The Government of India are spending large sums on agricultural research. They have a College of Agriculture on an extensive scale at Pusa, in Bengal, and another big college near Poona has just been completed. These handsome buildings, with their chemical laboratories, lecture rooms, and English professors, seem at the first glance strangely remote from the homely farmer in his native village, and the first inclination is to suggest that these colleges will only produce a crop of ornamental figure-heads, who will graduate in agriculture, but who will make no practical use of the knowledge which they have acquired.

But the aim of these colleges is not quite so visionary as one might think. The Government realises that it will be long before the influence of the college reaches the small farmer in his village. The real point is that the soil of India is worn out through continued cropping without manuring, and it now only yields a small percentage of what it might produce, if properly treated. Farmyard manure, such as the English farmer so largely depends upon for the enrichment of his land, does not exist in India. This is partly because the cattle are roaming about all day, and as a rule are only gathered into sheds at night; partly because the coarse stalks of the native kinds of grain are not suitable for stable litter like English straw; but chiefly because the droppings from the cattle are made up into flat cakes and dried in the sun, which are then used as fuel in conjunction with a certain amount of wood. This custom is so rooted that it would be hopeless to try and modify it. Nor indeed is there any other fuel available. It is long before coal will find its way into common use for cooking purposes.

The moral of this is, that the only solution of the problem is to be found in the introduction of chemical manure. But this can only be done effectually after prolonged experiments. In a country so vast and so varied as India the varieties of soil are great, and the climatic conditions manifold. All sorts of different crops are grown. Hence the experiments necessary to find out how this variety is to be successfully treated must be spread over a long period of time, and results can only be arrived at gradually. Even in the process of irrigation, which at one time appeared to be such a simple matter, because where an ample supply of water could be secured the genial sun seemed to do all the rest, the lapse of years is revealing the fact that repeated irrigation produces certain deleterious chemical changes in the soil, which might ultimately become disastrous to the production of the crop. Hence experiments have to be made to determine to what extent irrigation must be restricted, and how the adverse chemical conditions can be counteracted.

When facts have been ascertained, their dissemination and acceptance is another problem. To accomplish this a good deal of the pioneer work, as with most progressive steps in India, must be done by Englishmen. Indians, however well instructed, would not be listened to in the first instance with confidence by their fellow-countrymen. They would suspect that self-interest was at the back of their advice, and the chemical manure which they recommended would, on that account, be distrusted. Hence, at present, a good many of the lecturers, and even some of the inspectors who are to travel in the districts to advise and assist the farmers in agricultural matters, have to be Englishmen. But it is hoped that their places will gradually be taken by those Indians whom they are now instructing.

Although farmers all the world over are conservative and opposed to novelties, they generally end by adopting improvements when they have realised that they are remunerative. Yerandawana village being close to Poona City, the farmers can procure for their land the street sweepings, which are sold by the municipality at so much a load. The farmers see the difference between land which has been manured and that which has not. They spend, what is to them, large sums of money on this litter, and they do so readily because they find that they are abundantly repaid by the increase in their crops. Street sweepings and city litter can, of course, only be procured in the immediate vicinity of large towns, and it is limited in quantity, so that this kind of manure does not go far in enriching the impoverished Indian soil. If farmers are able to see that chemical manure produces the same result as the litter, it is reasonable to suppose that in process of time they would be equally ready to buy the new agent.

Sugar cane is undoubtedly the most beautiful in appearance of all Indian crops; and when the cane is being converted into raw sugar, this is one of the most animated rural sights. The process takes place in the open air in a corner of the field itself, or else close by. Although it involves plenty of work and all is stir and bustle, it is a time which the workers enjoy. They encamp on the spot, and it is a sort of prolonged picnic.[3]

It is a pleasant custom amongst the sugar-cane growers to invite little parties of friends to come to the plantation to drink the fresh juice, and other uninvited guests are apt to stroll round in the hope of getting something. The code of hospitality amongst Indians being such a liberal one, even the palpable cadgers are not sent away empty. Apparently every visitor to any garden must be made to take away some tangible memento of his visit, if it be only a single flower.

One of the leading farmers in Yerandawana was, from the first, very adverse to the intrusion of the Mission into the village. He did not openly oppose, but when at intervals the villagers got suspicious and cooled off in their friendly advances, it was known that it was largely due to the influence of this Hindu. But time gradually does its beneficent work of pacification, and there came indications of friendly advances on the part of Bulwantrao himself. Finally his eldest son called one afternoon and asked two of us to go that evening to his sugar-cane plantation, so that he might entertain us, and he said that eight of the Mission boys might come with us.

We gladly accepted the invitation, and went to the appointed place at sunset. The pleasant scent as we drew near was reminiscent of jam-making in old days at home, and the process was somewhat similar. Bulwantrao's son, Rama, a coarse-featured lad with a raucous voice, welcomed us heartily. The Indian father usually drops into the background if his all-important eldest son is present, and lets him do the honours even when he is quite a boy. This is a pleasing feature of Indian family life, and the father evidently feels great pleasure in seeing his son and heir exercising the privileges of his position.

A brown country blanket was spread for us to sit upon, and Rama gave orders concerning us. One of his men brought some of the raw sugar in a brass bowl, just after it had cooled and consolidated. Presumably this bowl was dedicated to the use of unclean persons like ourselves, otherwise our touching it would have made it useless for their own purposes; except that there are now so many exceptions to the old rules of greater strictness, that perhaps the usual polish with earth might be considered a sufficient purification. It was a pleasure to eat sugar which one knew for certain was free from all taint of adulteration. Meanwhile several lads and boys had harnessed themselves to the mill which presses out the juice of the sugar cane, in place of the bullocks who had gone off duty, and with great energy and much fun and laughter, made it revolve until enough juice had been pressed out for our refreshment. The sugar cane, looking and feeling like a thick bamboo walking-stick, does not suggest itself as an object from which juice could be extracted, but it pours out in streams as soon as the stalk comes between the rollers of the mill.

A lemon was squeezed into the bowl of juice, which we were told greatly improves its flavour, and then we had a most refreshing drink. It was sweet and cool, but not sickly. There are places in Poona City where this drink can be obtained in its season for a farthing a glass, special crushing-mills being erected for the purpose. It is essential that the juice should be freshly procured, because if left to stand it quickly ferments, and it is then very intoxicating. We were next given some of the syrup out of the big pan which had just been taken off the fire. When poured into the moulds prepared for the purpose it consolidates as it cools. But it was rather like toffee at the stage when they put a lump of it into the palms of our hands, and as it was extremely sticky, it was a difficult matter getting rid of the after-effects; those who habitually use their fingers for all purposes appear to acquire the knack of doing so without getting their fingers into a mess.

Finally we were all provided with long sticks of the cane to take home with us, and this was the part of the entertainment which the boys valued most. But as teeth have to do the work of the crushing-mill, it was only the younger members of the party who were able to make personal use of the parting gift. We were also invited to look at Bulwantrao's gardens, and though the tidiness which distinguishes a cared-for English garden was missing, they were highly cultivated and contained a varied assortment. People of one country do not take readily to the natural productions of another country, especially their vegetables, but potatoes have become popular in India, in spite of their being small and tasteless. They are sold in all the native bazaars, and the poorer people buy them largely. Bulwantrao's garden was an illustration of what may be accomplished by intelligent cultivation under the influence of the heat of the tropics, combined with irrigation and manure. We were of course given specimens of such fruit and vegetables as were in season.

Darkness was rapidly taking the place of sunshine as we returned from this pleasant visit. There is a special charm about evening-tide in all parts of the world, and India is no exception; although evening in that country is peculiar and distinctive, and has the drawback that the twilight of the tropics is so brief. You are reading a book with ease, and ten minutes afterwards you can scarcely distinguish a letter. The sudden fall of night resembles the gloom produced by the rapid gathering of clouds before a thunderstorm in England, and gives for the moment a certain sense of sadness. In the last half-hour before sunset you see people hurrying along the roads and the many footpaths which intersect each other all over India, in order to get home before dark. The cattle which have been feeding all day on the hills and jungle lands come straggling home, and they respond slowly to the call for hurry, urged upon them forcibly by their young attendants. If you happen to be in one of the narrow gullies of a village just at the time when the cattle are coming home, the position is an embarrassing one. There is scarcely room for them to pass, and they eye a stranger with suspicion. They turn in at their respective doorways as if they were the owners, and there is not much distinction between the quarters allotted to them and the dwelling-place of the family.