There Are Still About Two Hundred And Eighty Acres To Break, Or, More
Properly Speaking, Two Hundred And Forty, As
Forty acres are in marsh,
in which water stands so deep no cultivation would be possible,
though, later on, the
Marshes yield beautiful crops of hay; rather
coarse-looking stuff, but undeniably nutritious, and not distasteful
to either horses or beast. It has often been speculated as to whether
there was any means of draining the marshes, but, owing to the extreme
level character of the country, you could get no fall, and tiles would
not do on account of the severity of the frosts, which penetrate
deeper into the ground than the drains could be carried. The
Government have cut good-sized ditches at right angles to the river,
and they are found to be the only practical drainage which is
feasible, and, when once cut and the water set running, have no
tendency to fill up, but gradually wear deeper and broader, so that in
time they almost become small rivers. We have one running through our
west marsh, and on a bye-day we sometimes fish in it for pike; not
that any of our party have been successful, but some of our neighbours
catch fish, and very fair-sized ones.
The land is wonderfully rich and good. A black loam (which colour is
no doubt due, partly, to the gradual accumulation of the charred
grasses left by prairie fires), of about two feet in depth, with a
clay and sandy sub-soil, and in which, they say, they will be able to
grow cereals for the next twenty years, without manure or its
deteriorating; though if there was only time to do it before the snow
falls, it seems a pity not to put the manure on to the land instead of
burning it, as they do at the present moment.
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