Draining for Profit, and Draining for Health | Page 6

consists of clay or other compact material, which is not impervious, in the sense in which india-rubber is impervious, (else it could not have become wet,) but which is sufficiently so to prevent the free escape of water. The surface soil is of a lighter or more open character, in consequence of the cultivation which it has received, or of the decayed vegetable matter and the roots which it contains.
In such land the subsoil is wet,--almost constantly wet,--and the falling rain, finding only the surface soil in a condition to receive it, soon fills this, and often more than fills it, and stands on the surface. After the rain, come wind and sun, to dry off the standing water,--to dry out the free water in the surface soil, and to drink up the water of the subsoil, which is slowly drawn from below. If no spring, or ooze, keep up the supply, and if no more rain fall, the subsoil may be dried to a considerable depth, cracking and gaping open, in wide fissures, as the clay loses its water of absorption, and shrinks. After the surface soil has become sufficiently dry, the land may be plowed, seeds will germinate, and plants will grow. If there be not too much rain during the season, nor too little, the crop may be a fair one,--if the land be rich, a very good one. It is not impossible, nor even very uncommon, for such soils to produce largely, but they are always precarious. To the labor and expense of cultivation, which fairly earn a secure return, there is added the anxiety of chance; success is greatly dependent on the weather, and the weather may be bad: Heavy rains, after planting, may cause the seed to rot in the ground, or to germinate imperfectly; heavy rains during early growth may give an unnatural development, or a feeble character to the plants; later in the season, the want of sufficient rain may cause the crop to be parched by drought, for its roots, disliking the clammy subsoil below, will have extended within only a few inches of the surface, and are subject, almost, to the direct action of the sun's heat; in harvest time, bad weather may delay the gathering until the crop is greatly injured, and fall and spring work must often be put off because of wet.
The above is no fancy sketch. Every farmer who cultivates a retentive soil will confess, that all of these inconveniences conspire, in the same season, to lessen his returns, with very damaging frequency; and nothing is more common than for him to qualify his calculations with the proviso, "if I have a good season." He prepares his ground, plants his seed, cultivates the crop, "does his best,"--thinks he does his best, that is,--and trusts to Providence to send him good weather. Such farming is attended with too much uncertainty,--with too much luck,--to be satisfactory; yet, so long as the soil remains in its undrained condition, the element of luck will continue to play a very important part in its cultivation, and bad luck will often play sad havoc with the year's accounts.
Land of this character is usually kept in grass, as long as it will bring paying crops, and is, not unfrequently, only available for pasture; but, both for hay and for pasture, it is still subject to the drawback of the uncertainty of the seasons, and in the best seasons it produces far less than it might if well drained.
The effect of this condition of the soil on the health of animals living on it, and on the health of persons living near it, is extremely unfavorable; the discussion of this branch of the question, however, is postponed to a later chapter.
Thus far, there have been considered only the effects of the undue moisture in the soil. The manner in which these effects are produced will be examined, in connection with the manner in which draining overcomes them,--reducing to the lowest possible proportion, that uncertainty which always attaches to human enterprises, and which is falsely supposed to belong especially to the cultivation of the soil.
Why is it that the farmer believes, why should any one believe, in these modern days, when the advancement of science has so simplified the industrial processes of the world, and thrown its light into so many corners, that the word "mystery" is hardly to be applied to any operation of nature, save to that which depends on the always mysterious Principle of Life,--when the effect of any combination of physical circumstances may be foretold, with almost unerring certainty,--why should we believe that the success of farming must, after all, depend mainly on chance? That an intelligent man should submit the success of his own patient efforts to the operation of