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 13l. an acre, which, at 5 per cent, means an annual rent-charge of 13s., to which is to be added a sum of from 1s. to 3s., the full annual value of the unreclaimed land. It is obvious that if we start with an outlay of 30l. plus the 1s. to 3s. 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 15s. to 18s. 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 5l. 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 15l. 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 10s. 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 20s. 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.