The mode of proceeding for the reclamation of bog-land at Kylemore is
first to remove the excess of water by “the big drain and the secondary
drains,” which must be cut deep enough to go right down to the gravel
below. These are supplemented by the “sheep drains,” or surface-drains,
which are about twenty inches wide at top, and narrow downwards to six
inches at bottom. They run parallel to each other, with a space of
about ten yards between, and cost one penny per six yards.
This first step having been made, the bog is left for two years, during
which it drains, consolidates, and sinks somewhat. If the bog is deep,
the turf, which has now become valuable by consolidation, should be cut.
After this it is left about two years longer, with the drains still
open. Then the drains are cleared and deepened, and a wedge-shaped sod,
too wide to reach the bottom, is rammed in so as to leave below it a
permanent tubular covered drain, which is thus made without the aid of
any tiles or other outside material. The drainage is now completed, and
the surface prepared for the important operation of dressing with lime,
which, as the people expressively say, “boils the bog,” and converts it
into a soil suitable for direct agricultural operations.
Potatoes and turnips may now be set in “lazy bed” ridges. Mr. Mitchell
Henry says, “Good herbage will grow on the bog thus treated; but as
much as possible should at once be put into root-crops, with farm-yard
manure for potatoes and turnips. The more lime you give the better
will be your crop; and treated thus there is no doubt that even during
the first year land so reclaimed will yield remunerative crops.” And
further, that “after being broken up a second time the land materially
improves, and becomes doubly valuable.” Also that he has no doubt that
“all bog-lands may be thus reclaimed, but it is uphill work, and not
remunerative to attempt the reclamation of bogs that are more than four
feet in depth.”
There is another and a simpler method of dealing with bogs—viz.,
setting them into narrow ridges; cutting broad trenches between the
ridges; piling the turf cut out from these trenches into little heaps
a few feet apart, burning them, and spreading the ashes over the
ridges. This is rather largely practiced on the coast of Donegal, in
conjunction with sea-weed manuring, and is prohibited in other parts
of Ireland as prejudicial to the interests of the landlord.
We shall now proceed to the philosophy of these processes.
First, the drainage. Everybody in Ireland knows that the bog holds
water like a sponge, and in such quantities that ordinary vegetation
is rotted by the excess of moisture. There is good reason to believe
that the ancient forests, which once occupied the sites of most of the
Irish bogs, were in some cases destroyed by the rotting of their stems
and roots in the excess of vegetable soil formed by generations upon
generations of fallen leaves, which, in a humid climate like that of
Ireland, could never become drained or air-dried.
But this is not all. There is rotting and rotting. When the rotting
of vegetable matter goes on under certain conditions it is highly
favorable to the growth of other vegetation, even of the vegetation of
the same kind of plants as those supplying the rotting material. Thus,
rotten and rotting straw is a good manure for wheat; and the modern
scientific vine-grower carefully places the dressing of his vines about
their roots, in order that they may rot, and supply the necessary salts
for future growth. The same applies generally; rotting cabbage-leaves
supply the best of manure for cabbages; rotting rhubarb-leaves for
rhubarb; rose-leaves for rose-trees; and so on throughout the vegetable
kingdom.
Why, then, should the bog-rotting be so exceptionally malignant? As I
am not aware that any answer has been given to this question, I will
venture upon one of my own. It appears to be mainly due to the excess
of moisture preventing that slow combustion of vegetable carbon which
occurs wherever vegetable matter is heaped together and _slightly_
moistened. We see this going on in steaming dung-hills; in hayricks
that have been stacked when imperfectly dried; in the spontaneous
combustion of damp cotton in the holds of ships, and in factories where
cotton-waste has been carelessly heaped; and in cucumber-frames and the
other “hot-beds” of the gardener.
In ordinary soils this combustion goes on more slowly, but no less
effectively, than in these cases. In doing so it maintains a certain
degree of warmth about the roots of the plants that grow there, and
_gradually_ sets free the soluble salts which the rotting vegetables
contain, and supplies them to the growing plants as manure, at the same
time forming the humus so essential to vegetation.
A great excess of water, such as soddens the bog, prevents this, and
also carries away any small quantity of soluble nutritious salts the
soil may contain. Thus, instead of being warmed and nourished by slight
humidity, and consequent oxidation, the bog soil is chilled and starved
by excess of water.
The absolute necessity of the first operation—that of drainage—is
thus rendered obvious; and I suspect that the need of four years’ rest,
upon which Mr. MacAlister insists, is somehow connected with a certain
degree of slow combustion that accompanies and partially causes the
consolidation of the bog. I have not yet had an opportunity of testing
this by inserting thermometers in bogs under different conditions, but
hope to do so.
The liming next demands explanation. Mr. Henry says that “it leaves the
soil sweetened by the neutralization of its acids.”
In order to test this theory I have digested (_i.e._, soaked) various
samples of turf cut from Irish bogs in distilled water, filtered off
the water, and examined it. I find that when this soaking has gone far
enough to give the water a coloring similar to that which stands in
ordinary bogs, the acidity is very decided—quite sufficiently so to
justify this neutralization theory as a partial explanation. There is
little reason to doubt that the lime is further effective in enriching
the soil; or, in the case of pure bogs, that it forms the soil by
disintegrating and decomposing the fibrous vegetable matter, and thus
rendering it capable of assimilation by the crops.
Another effect which the lime must produce is the liberation of free
ammonia from any fixed salts that may exist in the bog.
The bog-burning method of reclamation is easily explained. In the first
place, the excessive vegetable encumbrance is reduced in quantity,
and the remaining ashes supply the surface of the bog on which they
rest with the non-volatile salts that originally existed in the burnt
portions of the bog. In other words, they concentrate in a small space
the salts that were formerly distributed too sparsely through the whole
of the turf which was burnt.
As there are great differences in the composition of different bogs,
especially in this matter of mineral ash, it is evident that the
success of this method must be very variable, according to the locality.
On discussing this method with Mr. MacAlister (Mr. Henry’s steward,
under whose superintendence these reclamation works are carried out),
he informed me that the bogs on the Kylemore estate yield a very small
amount of ash—a mere impalpable powder that a light breath might blow
away; that it was practically valueless, excepting from the turf taken
at nearly the base of the bog. The ash I examined where the bog-burning
is extensively practiced in Donegal, was quite different from this.
The quantity was far greater, and its substance more granular and
gritty. It, in fact, formed an important stratum, when spread over the
surface of the ridges. These differences of composition may account
for the differences of opinion and practice which prevail in different
districts. It affords a far more rational explanation than the
assumption that all such contradictions arise from local stupidities.
There is one evil, however, which is common to all bog-burning as
compared with liming—it must waste the ammoniacal salts, as they are
volatile, and are driven away into the air by the heat of combustion.
Somebody may get them when the rain washes them down to the earth’s
surface again; but the burner himself obtains a very small share in
this way.
We may therefore conclude that where lime is near at hand, bog-burning
is a rude and wasteful, a viciously indolent mode of reclamation. It
is only desirable where limestone is so distant that the expense of
carriage renders lime practically unattainable, and where the bog
itself is rich in mineral matter, and so deep and distant from a
fuel demand, that it may be burned to waste without any practical
sacrifice. Under such conditions it may be better to burn the bog than
leave it in hopeless and worthless desolation.
I cannot conclude without again adverting to the importance of this
subject, and affirming with the utmost emphasis, that the true Irish
patriot is not the political orator, but he who by practical efforts,
either as capitalist, laborer, or teacher, promotes the reclamation of
the soil of Ireland, or otherwise develops the sadly neglected natural
resources of the country.
With Mr. Mitchell Henry’s permission I append to the above his own
description of the results of his experiment, originally communicated
in a letter to the _Times_; at the same time thanking him for his kind
reception of a stranger at Kylemore Castle, and the facilities he
afforded me for studying the subject on the spot.
“The interesting account you lately published of the extensive
reclamations of His Grace the Duke of Sutherland, under the title
of ‘An Agricultural Experiment,’ has been copied into very many
newspapers, and must have afforded a welcome relief to thousands of
readers glad to turn for a time from the terrible narratives that come
to us from the east. If you will allow me, I should like to supplement
your narrative by a rapid sketch of what has been done here during the
last few years, on a much humbler scale, in the case of land similar,
and some of it almost identical, with that in Sutherlandshire.
“The twelve _corps d’armée_ under the Duke’s command, in the shape
of the twelve steam-engines and their ploughs, engaged in subduing
the stubborn resistance of the unreclaimed wilds of Sutherlandshire,
suggest to the mind the triumphs of great warriors, and fill us with
admiration—not always excited by the details of great battle; but, as
great battles can be fought seldom, and only by gigantic armies and at
prodigious expense, so reclamation on such a scale is far beyond the
opportunities or the means of most of us; while many may, perhaps, be
encouraged to attempt work similar to that which has been successfully
carried out here.
“And, first of all, a word as to the all-important matter of cost. Does
it pay?
“Including farm-buildings and roads, the reclamations here have cost
on an average 13_l._ an acre, which, at 5 per cent, means an annual
rent-charge of 13_s._, to which is to be added a sum of from 1_s._ to
3_s._, the full annual value of the unreclaimed land. It is obvious
that if we start with an outlay of 30_l._ _plus_ the 1_s._ to 3_s._ of
original rent, such an amount would usually be found prohibitory; but,
on the other hand, excellent profits may be made if the expenditure
is so kept down that the annual rent is not more than from 15_s._ to
18_s._ per acre. Before entering into further details, let me say that
I claim no credit for originality in what has been done. The like has
been effected on numerous properties in Ireland in bygone days, and is
daily being carried out by the patient husbandman who year by year with
his spade reclaims a little bit from the mountain side. And you must
allow me emphatically to say that what has been done here economically
and well would not have been done except for the prudence, patience,
and thoughtful mind of my steward, Archibald MacAlister, a County
Antrim man, descended from one of the race of Highland Catholic Scotch
settlers, who have peopled the north of Ireland and added so much to
its prosperity.
“The Pass of Kylemore, in which I live, is undoubtedly favorably
situated for reclamation, for there is but little very deep bog, and
there is abundance of limestone. In former ages it must have been an
estuary of the sea, with a river flowing through it, now represented
by a chain of lakes and the small rapid river Dowris. The subsoil is
sand, gravel, and schist rock, with peat of various depths grown upon
it. As by the elevation of the land the sea long ages ago was driven
back, the mossy growth of peat commenced, followed by pine and yew
trees, of which the trunks and roots are abundantly found; but, except
over a space of about 400 acres, every tree that formerly clothed the
hillsides has been cut down or has totally disappeared. The general
result is that we have a pass several miles long, bounded on the north
and south by a chain of rugged mountains of some 1500 or 1800 feet in
height, while the east is blocked up by a picturesque chain running
north and south, and separating the Joyce country from Connemara
proper, the west being open to the Atlantic. The well-known Killery
Bay, or Fiord, would, I doubt not, present an exact resemblance to
Kylemore if the sea, which now flows up to its head, were driven out.
There are miles of similar country in Ireland, waiting only for the
industry of man, where, as here, there exist extensive stretches of
undulating eskers, covered with heather growing on the light clay, with
a basis of gravel or sand.
“A considerable difference exists between the reclamation of the flat
parts, where the bog is pretty deep, and the hillsides, where there is
little or no bog. Yet it is to be remembered that bog is nothing more
than vegetable matter in a state of partial decomposition, and holding
water like a sponge. The first thing is to remove the water by drains,
some of which—that is, the big drain and the secondary drains—must
go right down to the gravel below; but the other drains—called
sheep-drains—need not, and, indeed, must not be cut so deep. The
drains are cut wedge-shape by what are called Scotch tools, which
employ three men—two to cut and one to hook out the sods; and all that
is requisite to form a permanent drain is to replace the wedge-shaped
sod, and ram it down between the walls of the drain, where it
consolidates and forms a tube which will remain open for an indefinite
number of years. We have them here as good as new, made twenty-five
years ago; and at Chat Moss, in Lancashire, they are much older. After
land has been thus drained—but not too much drained, or it will become
dry turf—the surface begins to sink; what was tumid settles down, and
in the course of a few months the land itself becomes depressed on the
surface and much consolidated. Next it is to be dug by spade-labor or
ploughed. We use oxen largely for this purpose, and, strange to say,
the best workers we find to be a cross with the Alderney, the result
being a light, wiry little animal, which goes gayly over the ground,
is easy to feed, and is very tractable. The oxen are trained by the
old wooden neck-yoke; but, when well broken, work in collars, which
seem more easy to them. Horses on very soft land work well in wooden
pattens. After the land has been broken up, a good dressing of lime is
to be applied to it, and this, in the expressive language of the people
here, ‘boils the bog’—that is, the lime causes the vegetable matter,
formerly half decomposed, to become converted into excellent manure.
This leaves the soil sweetened by the neutralization of its acids, and
in a condition pretty easily broken up by the chain-harrow; or, what is
better still, by Randall’s American revolving harrow.
“Good herbage will grow on bog thus treated, but as much as possible
should at once be put into root-crops, with farmyard manure for
potatoes and turnips. The more lime you give the better will be your
crop, and, treated thus, there is no doubt that even during the first
year, land so reclaimed will yield remunerative crops. People ask, ‘But
will not the whole thing go back to bog?’ Of course it will if not kept
under proper rotation, which we find to be one of five years—namely,
roots followed by oats, laid down with clover and grass seed, which
remains for two years. After being broken up a second time, the land
materially improves and becomes doubly valuable. I have no doubt that
all bog-lands may be thus reclaimed, but it is up-hill work and not
remunerative to attempt the reclamation of bogs that are more than four
feet in depth.
“And here I will make a remark as to the effects of drainage in a wet
country. By no means does the whole effect result from raising the
temperature of the soil; there is something else as important, and
that is the supply of ammonia, brought down from the skies in the
rain, which, with other fertilizing matter, is caught, detained, and
absorbed in the soil. A well-drained field becomes, in fact, just like
a water-meadow over which a river flows for a part of a year; and thus
the very wetness of the climate may be made to reduce the supply of
ammoniacal manures, so expensive to buy.
“The porous, well-drained soil carries quickly off the superfluous
moisture, while the ammonia is absorbed by the roots and leaves of the
plants. An excessive bill for ammoniacal manures has been the ruin of
many a farmer; and our aim in Ireland should be to secure good crops
by thorough drainage and constant stirring of the soil, without much
outlay for concentrated manures. At the same time I ought to remark
that we have grown excellent potatoes by using 5_l._ worth per acre
of superphosphate and nitrate of soda in cases in which our farmyard
manure has fallen short.
“The reclamation of mountain-land as distinguished from bog-land can
best be illustrated by a record of what has been accomplished on two
farms here. Three years ago the leases of two upland farms fell in,
and I took them into my own hands. The first consists of 600 acres,
one-half a nearly level flat of deepish bog running alongside the
river, the other half moor heath, which with difficulty supported a few
sheep and cattle.
“There had never been any buildings on this land, nor had a spade ever
been put into it; and the tenant, being unable to pay his rent of
15_l._ a year for the 600 acres, was glad to give it up for a moderate
consideration. The first thing accomplished was to fence and drain
thoroughly as before described, and the best half of the land was then
divided into forty-acre fields. Exactly now two years ago—on September
15th—a little cottage and a stable for a pair of horses and a pair
of bullocks was completed and tenanted by two men and a boy. They
ploughed all the week and came home on Saturdays to draw their supply
of food and fodder for the ensuing seven days, thus approximating very
nearly to the position of settlers in a new country. We limed all the
land we could, manured part of it with seaweed and part with the farm
manure made by the horses and oxen which were at work, and cropped with
roots such as turnips and potatoes. A good portion we sowed with oats
out of the lea, but the most satisfactory crop we found to be rape
and grasses mixed, for on the best of the land they form at once an
excellent permanent pasture. We have now had two crops from this land;
and I venture to say that the thirteen stacks of oats and hay gathered
in in good condition, and the turnips and roots now growing, which
are not excelled in the county Galway—except those of Lord Clancarty
at Ballinasloe, who has grown 110 tons of turnips to the Irish acre,
equal to upwards of 68 tons to the acre here—present a picture most
gratifying and cheering in every way.
“The second farm, of 240 acres, which adjoins this, had a good building
on it; but, having been let on lease at about 10_s._ an acre to a large
grazier whose stock-in-trade was a horse, a saddle, and a pair of
shears, had not been cultivated or improved.
“Similar proceedings on this farm have produced similar results; and,
if now let in the market, I have no doubt that after two years of good
treatment these farms would be let at 20_s._ an acre, and I do not
despair of doubling this figure in the course of time.
“The exact weight of the turnip crop this season is, on raw bog,
drained, limed, and cropped this year for the first time, 24 tons per
acre; manure, seaweed. On land ploughed but not cropped, last year
23½ tons; mixed mineral manure. On land from which a crop of oats had
previously been taken, 29 tons; manure, farmyard, with 3 cwt. per acre
mineral manure.
“Last year my excellent steward, Mr. MacAlister, visited the Duke of
Sutherland’s reclamations in Scotland, and was kindly and hospitably
received. He found the land and the procedure adopted almost identical,
with the conviction that oxen and horses will suit us better at the
present time than steam culture, chiefly on the score of economy. He
also visited the Bridgewater Estate at Chat Moss, near Manchester,
where so much has been done to bring the deep peat into cultivation,
and he found the system that has been followed there for so many years
to be like that described above, marl, however, being used in the place
of lime.”
At the time of my visit to Kylemore the hay crops were down and partly
carried on the reclaimed bog-land above described. The contrast of its
luxuriance with the dark and dreary desolation of the many estates I
had seen during three summers’ wanderings through Ireland added further
proof of the infamy of the majority of Irish landlords, by showing what
Ireland would have been had they done their duty.