I remained a fortnight at Richmond and Petersburg, making excursions by the railroads, on horseback, or on foot, to plantations of different character, and that were recommended to me, as illustrating the different systems of culture prevailing in Eastern Virginia; and I now proceed to give you a general sketch of this district.

It extends from the base of the Blue Ridge to the sea at Chesapeake Bay, being about 175 miles in width, and the same in length. It has no distinct physical boundary on the north and south; and my observations may be considered applicable—allowing for some modification of climate, owing to difference of latitude—to the greater part of Maryland and the northern and eastern part of North Carolina.

It is so divided by streams, that but a small part of it is more than fifteen miles from water navigable by sea-going vessels or bateaus. Ships of the largest class ascend several of the rivers more than fifty miles, and sloops much further. These rivers and their tributaries also afford, at convenient intervals, excellent milling power.

About one hundred miles from, and parallel to, the shore, but with frequent irregular spurs, a granite steppe, or ledge. subdivides the district—the country below it being alluvial, generally level, and frequently low and marshy. In geological phrase, the upper region is primary. the low country of tertiary formation. The rivers are subject to the influence of tides up to this ledge. which occasions “rapids” in them, precluding further ascent of vessels from the sea. There is a general tendency of descent in a southeasterly direction from the Blue Ridge to the shore; but this is more rapid, and the surface is much more undulating and varied above than below the ledge.

In the tide-water region the summers are long and debilitating, though the extremes of heat are no greater than at New-York—the mercury seldom, if ever, rising to 100°F. As you ascend towards the mountains the summer is [128] shorter, and in their immediate vicinity, or in what is known as the piedmont country, the climate is peculiarly healthful and invigorating.

Most of the plants of the temperate zone flourish—a few fruits and agricultural productions slightly changing the character they have in New-York. It is more favorable to Indian corn than the climate of New-York, less so to oats, which grain has a peculiar adaptability to flourish and increase in weight in regions of short summers and bleak surfaces. Apples, of varieties that mature in February in New-York, here ripen on the tree. There were formerly apples that were probably seedlings of the district that ripened late in the winter; but with the characteristic habit of the people they have been allowed to become nearly or quite extinct. Winter apples, therefore, are extensively imported from the North.

The climate would permit the culture of many valuable plants which cannot exist at New-York, and the indigenous productions of the soil are much more varied. But little advantage has, however, been taken of this opportunity; the productions of agriculture being less-varied in general than in the free states. The difficulty of introducing anything new into the routine of labor where slaves are employed, is the first reason of this.

Near Norfolk, the culture of semi-tropical vegetables for the Northern markets has commenced. It is mainly a free-labor enterprise. In the southern part, for about fifty miles north from the south line of Virginia, cotton is cultivated on many plantations, not however to any great extent for other than the local demand. By some attention to varieties, and a gradual improvement under careful culture, it would be profitably extended much further, if the demand for it should continue as at present.

Rice is cultivated by the negroes in the swamps for their own use and for sale, but nowhere is any attention paid to it by the planters. Under a small proprietory, enough would be raised for the home demand and its consumption be increased.

The fig and the olive can be grown anywhere with cotton. The fig is cultivated in gardens in Norfolk, and single trees of considerable age may be found on exposed sites in all the southern half of the district. The olive is not cultivated or known here at all. There is no grape culture or wine making, except experimentally. There is a reasonable prospect that it might be a successful business.

An experimental plantation in the vicinity of Washington, in which the fitness of the climate to the culture of various foreign agricultural productions should be tested, would add greatly to the wealth and commercial independence of the country if there were sufficient enterprise in the people of this district to make use of the results.

The soil of both the upper and lower regions is greatly varied, and often every description will be found on a single small farm. The local names made use of to distinguish the different varieties (“mulatto,” “chinquapin,” &c.) have reference only to the color of the surface. In the lower region, there [129] is a large proportion of poor sandy land, but on the border of the rivers, the soil is in every respect of excellent quality and suitable to the culture of all the most valuable agricultural productions. In the upper region, a clayey soil of good natural quality, predominates, though it is often covered with sand. This sandy surface soil varies in texture and quality, but most generally is so thin where it is poor, that it can be broken through and clay mingled with it by a four-horse plow.

Beds of fossil sea-shells underlay many counties of the lower region, the application of which to the surface-soil is of very great advantage. Of this improvement I shall again speak.

The earlier settlers of Virginia naturally located themselves on the banks of the broad navigable streams, and first brought the rich meadows on their borders into cultivation. I think there is no evidence that these meadows have declined in productive capacity from that time to this. A gradual, slight deepening of the tillage, with the addition, in late years, of a little lime to the soil, to hasten and make more complete the process of disintegration and decomposition, has sufficed to supply abundant material for the crops removed from it during nearly two centuries.

The great profits of the Tobacco growing, on new soils, however, when this plant became the staple of the Colony, as it soon did, led to the rapid removal of the natural forests of oak, beech, and other deciduous trees, on the naturally poor. soils of the upland. As fast as the newly cleared land failed to make a profitable return under the careless culture of the exhausting tobacco, it was given up and new breadths of the forest cleared.

In the “old field,” in place of the former growth of deciduous trees, the wronged soil sent up a thick growth of pines, which were eventually, when all the aboriginal forest within convenient reach had been gone over, themselves felled and burned on the ground, and the land was again subjected to a course of tobacco. Thus the rotation was first, tobacco; second, pine, until after a few generations the tobacco crop became so light that it ceased to be profitably cultivated. Then the planter, if he had sufficient enterprise, would gather together his flocks and herds of African slaves and European “bondsmen or redemptioners;” and settle himself again upon some previously unoccupied tract, fell the oaks, and put it through the same process, pine succeeding tobacco, and tobacco, pine.

Thus gradually the plantations were advanced across all the light soils of the lower region, and into the stiffer and better soils above the rapids of the rivers, until at length these became almost exclusively dovoted to the tobacco culture, and so continue to the present day, little or no tobacco being cultivated in the tide-water district, while it continues the staple of most of the counties above.

It would be naturally supposed that after a time the light lands would sufficiently recover to tempt their owners again to resume tobacco planting, and you would certainly see no reason why it should not prevail on the river- [130] meadows, the soils of which are entirely unexhausted, and admirably adapted to support its heavy demands. The reason given is that they are more profitably employed in bearing corn and wheat. But knowing that soils of a similar description in the more Northern States, equally well adapted to wheat and corn, have lately increased in value from its having been discovered that tobacco could be matured upon them, it is evident that this is not a sufficient explanation.

A great depression of the price of tobacco occurred at the period of our second war with England, owing to the interruption of commerce, and was sustained by the continued political agitations in Europe and the subsequent financial distress in our own country up to a late period. At this time, tobacco, being an article of compact value and cheaply transported, could still be much more profitably raised and brought to market from the back country than corn and wheat, there being then no facilities of communication from these districts superior to horse draft over the rudest roads, while crops raised on the river bank could be readily and cheaply transported by shipping to any desired market. Thus tobacco was entirely lost as a crop below the rapids that obstructed a higher navigation, the possessors of the land only retaining a holy horror of it as the scourge that had rendered the greater part of the land within their reach utterly valueless for the general purposes of husbandry.

The reason the culture is not resumed at the present day, when tobacco is again high and wheat low (and when tobacco is taking the place of corn crops on land no better and in climate much less adapted to it than on the soils of the river intervals) is probably this. The cultivation and curing, sorting, packing, &c., of tobacco, are processes entirely different from any the laborers of the present day in the low country are familiar with, and slave labor is so exceedingly unintelligent and prejudiced that it is next to impossible to introduce any new process requiring skill or the use of unaccustomed instruments where it is employed.

The utter poverty of the soil, and the sorry, disgraceful, bankrupt condition of the proprietors of it in lower Virginia, at the period in which tobacco culture became no longer profitable, can only be compared to the misery of a sot who is deprived of the means of obtaining his accustomed stimulus. Up to this period the Virginia proprietors had been a race of lords. Of the mode of life and the character of the agriculture then prevailing, a Virginian writer of our day thus gives a picture:

No man of wealth, or with a moderate estate, thought of attending personally to his farming. Every detail of management was entrusted to the overseers, who rarely were stimulated by even the general superintendence and control of their employers. Overseers’ wages were generally paid in a certain share or proportion of the crops they made. Thus, they had a direct interest in drawing from the land and labor as much as possible during the current year of their engagement; and none whatever in preserving or increasing the productive power of the land for later times. It came to be recognised as a maxim of agricultural [131] morals, that “it was not just for a proprietor to interfere with and change his overseer’s designed direction of the labors of the farm, inasmuch as any abstraction from immediate product, for the sake of future improvement, operated to lessen the overseer’s profits for the present year.” This doctrine accorded so well with the disposition of every indolent, careless, and wasteful proprietor, then it is no wonder that it came to be generally received, and conformed to in practice.

The more wealthy proprietors, having no occupation of industry, spent their time mostly in seeking pleasure. Visits to each other were frequent and protracted. It was rare that anyone of this class was without some company, either at home or abroad. Besides such exercises of reciprocal hospitality, every idle or homeless “gentleman” of the whole country found in every mansion a comfortable sojourning place, and, at least the outward show, if not the reality, of welcome, so long as he might choose to stay. Of course, visits from such persons were ordinary occurrences—and were sometimes protracted for weeks or months. That this particular neighborhood was not “eaten out” by this class of genteel and honorable vagrants and spongers, was not because of their deficiency of numbers, or of active use of their facilities-but because they had like privileges in every part of the country. This race, fortunately, is now nearly extinct. But many such individuals are still remembered, who for man y years of their adult life, and some for their whole life, pursued no other business, and had no other means of support, except visiting their friends. Of course they counted their friends by hundreds.

The wealthier proprietors were not only hospitable and kind hosts, but also refined and pleasing companions. Their fathers’ wealth had served to give to them education and manners of good society. With many excellent social and moral qualities, their habits of idleness and pleasure-seeking naturally led to the attendant and consequent vices. Social drinking was often carried to excess; and card-playing was sure to be introduced whenever as many neighbors dined together as served to make up a game of 100. Horse-racing was a favorite amusement of all classes; some of the farmers owned and ran race-horses, and nearly all reared horses of the high blood, and at the high cost required for the turf.

How like the “true gentlemen” of Ireland!

But let us not forget in passing that when the time of retribution came, the slaves suffered not—the peasants starved! I have seen the one intimately,and from what] have at present seen of the other, I must declare that the Virginia slave is more happy, more comfortable, in some sense more free; and in better and more manly relation to his masters, than the Irish peasant or the English agricultural laborer is to the “higher classes” of those countries.

I wonder not that the London Times moves against “Uncle Tom.” It has a cut backward which its hundreds of thousands of English readers will not lose. Slavery will not die until the world has humbled itself to learn a lesson from it.

Oh, God! who are we that condemn our brother? No slave ever killed its own offspring in cool calculation of saving money by it, as do English free women. No slave is forced to eat of corruption, as are Irish tenants. No slave freezes to death for want of habitation and fuel, as have men in Boston. No [132] slave reels off into the abyss of God, from want of work that shall bring it food, as do men and women in New-York. Remember that, Mrs. Stowe. Remember that, indignant sympathizers.

Oh, Christian capitalists, free traders in labor, there is somewhat to be built up, as well as somewhat to be abolished before we repose in the millennium.

With the low prices for tobacco consequent upon the War of 1812, the distress and poverty resulting from the previous extravagance and pride, reached its climax. The Virginia aristocracy had come to the end of their rope. The writer from whom I have previously quoted thus describes the period of humility that followed:

After more or less time, every farm was greatly impoverished—almost every estate was seriously impaired—and some were involved in debt to nearly their value. Most of the proprietors had died, leaving families in reduced circumstances, and in some cases in great straits. No farm, whether of a rich or a poor proprietor, had escaped great exhaustion; and no property great dilapidation, unless because the proprietor had at first been too poor to join the former expensive habits of his wealthier neighbors.

* * * There was nothing left to waste, but time and labor; and these continued to be wasted in the now fruitless efforts to cultivate to profit, or to replace the fertility of soil which had been destroyed. Luxury and expense had been greatly lessened. But on that account the universal prostration was even the more apparent. Many mansions were falling into decay. Few received any but trivial and indispensable repairs. No new mansion was erected, and rarely any other farm building of value. There was still generally prevailing idleness among proprietors; and also an abandonment of hope, which made everyone desirous to sell his land and move to the fertile and far West, and a general emigration and dispersion only was prevented by the impossibility of finding purchasers for the lands, even at half the then low estimate of market prices.

All was not sufficient. The virus still remained in the system and was transmitted from father to son. Two generations have passed and still Virginians all draw the distinct line between gentleman and workman. Still it is their creed, “so far as the mere laborer has the pride, the knowledge or the aspirations of a freeman, he is unfitted for his situation.” Still they liken the man who worketh with his own hands to “the horse or the ox;” and ask sneeringly, “Would you do him a benefit to give him a cultivated understanding or fine feelings?”

The land has very generally passed out of the families of the ancient proprietors, whose descendants are now in a large part to be found among the low whites; low because poor—poverty and degradation being synonymous in a slave country. The tendency is still much more to the concentration of property than at the North, and the land is held generally in much larger parcels than can be efficiently superintended by the owner. There is a monstrous proportion of the people, even beside the negroes, that are living most miserably— [134] uneducated, unintelligent and unambitious—but comparatively few in the condition most favorable to the development of the resources and increase of the wealth of a State—that in which they are raised above the hopeless depression of poverty, and stimulated by both their needs and their opportunities to the constant exercise of observation and intelligent reflection, and to ever hopeful, active, well-rewarded industry.

I should judge that a large proportion of the plantations in Eastern Virginia had been, to this day, conducted with precisely the same purposes and with very similar consequences that they were one hundred years ago. The proprietors or landholders, as long as it is possible, occupy themselves with “hospitality” and “abstractions,” and are practically absentees; leaving the details of management to overseers; cultivating their estates with reference entirely to the greatest immediate return; putting away from their thoughts the evil days that must result from such a system.

But there are now many exceptions. Here and there a farm has been improved, its productions increased, and the proprietor is adding to his wealth. You find some few whole counties or districts that have caught the spirit of enterprise; and the means of improvement being simple, obvious and well established in their effects, everywhere that this is the case, there is a glow of prosperity strongly contrasting with the deadness and poverty which generally prevails. Of late, the statistics of the State begin to be influenced, and the arch-abstractionists lay back in their chairs and rub their hands, and proudly tell you Virginia is beginning to live again.

The best farms and the most profitable in Virginia are on the banks of the James River. Nearly all these are in the hands of comparatively new proprietors, and are managed with the skill, energy, forethought and enterprise acquired in other and less “aristocratic” occupations.

On the lighter lands of Eastern Virginia maize has been the staple crop and in many parts the only crop that has paid for cultivation. On many farms, to this day, the sole crop raised is corn, the only produce of the land, bacon and corn. Swine live mainly in the woods on herbage and nuts; the cleared land is all planted with corn, what little manure is made is all applied to it, and the force of the farm is almost wholly employed in its cultivation. Much more labor is given to it than at the North, and though very uneconomically, owing to rude implements and shallow ideas of plowing up the subsoil, generally the crop is better “tended,” the surface kept mellower and more free from weeds than at the North. This is partly because the season of cultivation is longer and because the hands are not obliged to be taken off for harvest. The crop on new land may be twenty-five bushels from an acre, but, of course, greatly varies with the soil, the manure and the season; generally there will be enough to provide the slaves with an abundant allowance of meal, something more for the swine, and a surplus that will, according to the season, provide the proprietor with the means of a greater or less degree of comfort or luxury in his family. Often, however, bacon and meal will be almost the sole food of the household from [135] year’s end to year’s end. And this where the capital stock would be considered a fortune, and the owner of it rank as one of “our first men,” and live like a prince in a New-England village; the property consisting of four or five hundred acres of land, worth from one to ten dollars an acre, and twenty or thirty slaves, worth $500 a-piece. Rarely, though, would it not be heavily encumbered. Certainly if it were not, there could have been during the present possession, but little of “old-fashioned Virginia hospitality.” I speak now only of the worst-managed “corn, corn, corn” plantations.

After corn, comes corn; and then, corn, again; and so on, until it will hardly pay for the labor, when the poor, worn out land is dropped—left at last to rest, and Nature, with almighty pity, immediately clothes it with a thick growth of pines. This invariable sequence is most singular, and has long been the subject of a discussion among naturalists. The original growth was almost as universally of deciduous trees—oak, gum, chinquapin, &c.

As the oldest tilled land of the farm is thus dropped behind, every year a piece of the pine wood (“old field,” of thirty years standing, perhaps) is cleared, the wood burned mainly on the ground, and that in heaps, and the ashes seldom spread; and after some little grubbing of the smaller roots, during the winter, planted again with corn. This first crop of the new land, seldom exceeds twenty-five bushels to the acre, on the oldest land, it is often not over five bushels. The greatest part of the land, perhaps the whole, has received no manure. The farmer, like the leech, cries constantly give! give! give! and bestows only as an inducement, a rude tillage some three or four inches deep.

I do not like to say that such is the general style of farming now in Virginia, but it certainly, even at this day, is not rare, and as far as my observation goes, is quite as common as any other.

The next step is to introduce wheat, and to leave the land to rest for a year or two after it, during which time there is a natural growth of coarse grass, weeds, and bushes, sometimes of clover (which is then called “volunteer clover”). This on being turned in with the plow affords a slight green manuring. In some soils plaster is sowed with wheat to encourage clover; better farmers buy clover seed and sow; better still, apply lime or marl. But supposing none of these aids are employed, the crop of wheat seldom exceeds five bushels, and of corn twenty-five bushels; oftener three will measure the wheat, and ten the corn, under this system.

I have seen oats put between corn and wheat, and in that case the land was regularly left three or four years to rest, as Heaven knows it had need to be, for a severer rotation could hardly be contrived. A three years’ rest made necessary a regular “grubbing” of the field, the bushes getting too strong for the plow to “rip” through them.

Thirty years ago there was very little farming better than this in Eastern Virginia, there is a great deal no better now.

About 1826 the value of marl, an inexhaustible deposit of which exists not far from the surface of a large part of this district, as an agent to restore the [136] fertility of the worn-out lands, began to be understood among the more intelligent and enterprising agriculturists. The publication of Mr. Edmund Ruffin’s “Treatise on Calcareous Manures,” probably the most valuable original agricultural work ever published in the United States, assisted greatly to diffuse a knowledge of its value, and of the principles and most economical methods of its application, among the reading men of the State as well as elsewhere.

It was ascertained that the value of marl (except in certain cases where it contained sulphate of lime) was very nearly proportionate to the per centage of carbonate of lime contained in it, and thus it was cheaper in many cases to obtain lime made from oyster-shells or from lime-stone than to open marl pits. Lime has been generally procured from New-York; it is just beginning to be brought by the new communications opening through the Blue Ridge from Western Virginia. Of course, it varies in quality according to the purity of the lime-stone or the proportion of magnesia or phosphate of lime entering into its composition. Lime has been sometimes brought here and sold to the farmers that contained so large a part of magnesia as to be an injury to the crops that it was applied to improve. Formerly, stone-lime was preferred; of late, farmers find shell-lime more rapidly beneficial. Theoretically, we should expect shell-lime to be of the most advantage on the most sandy soils, these being usually more particularly deficient in the phosphates.

The effect of the application of lime, whether in purity or in the form of marl, the latter being merely half decomposed shells, on nearly all the soils of Eastern Virginia is great anti immediate. The crops of the second following rotation have been sometimes increased by it two hundred per cent., and the texture of the land and its susceptibility to other agricultural improvement, is also greatly improved. In a few soils, containing but little vegetable matter, the effect is sometimes not seen for several years, and yet it will continue to increase and may be distinctly observed for twenty years. Marl generally costs $1. 25 per hundred bushels, spread on the field, and 300 bushels is the usual dressing for an acre. Lime from New-York costs seven to eight cents a bushel, and fifty bushels is a usual application for an acre.

By means of lime, wheat may be raised profitably; the straw is converted into manure, and as large stocks of cattle are scarcely kept here, straw is often applied directly to the land; heavy stands of clover are soon made to follow; this is but lightly pastured, and sometimes not at all; usually remains two years and is turned in, supplying large additional food for future crops. By these means and deeper plowing, and sometimes longer and more ameliorating courses of cropping, the soil very greatly improves in its productive capacity. The land is generally light, of easy tillage, and very frequently on the better class of farms a four-horse-plow (of heavier draught than it should be) is used, which overturns the surface to a depth of from six to twelve inches.

There are large districts (and out of them, many single plantations) where the above described practices, together with some one of the rotations, [137] which will be given below, have for many years been systematically followed, and which might boast, if it were not for their wretched and uneconomical labor system, of being the best cultivated districts in the United States. By best, I mean the most scientific and profitable, cultivation under all existing circumstances.

Within four years another wonderfully effective agent of production has come into use and under the increased demand for it of this season, it is impossible to predict what its effect will be. I mean, of course, guano. The enormous profits frequently arising from the use which has been made of it during the last two years, have startled even the old “corn, corn, corn” planters. It would seem now as if a revolution in Virginia Agriculture had commenced.

The following systems of cropping, or Rotations, are commonly used on the better class of farms in the tide-water district:

The Four-field System—1. Corn—2. Wheat—3. Clover, plowed in and sowed after, for—4. Wheat.

The Five-field or “Pamunkey” System—1. Corn—2. Wheat—3. Clover—4. Wheat—5. Clover, or—4. or 5. Pasture.

The five-field system is also varied very judiciously sometimes, by introducing Peas, which are sowed in the intervals between the rows of maize the first year. They are sown at the last tillage and, without subtracting at all perceptibly from the crop of growing corn (forming their seed after that is nearly ripe, or has been removed), often make a valuable crop of seeds and of haulm for fodder.

The “peas” are of a variety unknown at the North, and should rather be called beans.

The veteran Ruffin, who has done so much for the agriculture of Virginia, and who is still almost as actively and as usefully as ever engaged both in the field and at the desk in his more honorable labors, has lately adopted on his farm, and recommended to the public the following:

Six-Field System.— 1. Corn; 2. Peas—Sowed broadcast, and plowed under in Autumn for; 3. Wheat—Clover sown, grazed after harvest; 4. Clover—1st crop mown or grazed; 2d, plowed under for; 5. Wheat; 6. Clover, grazed.

Just at present, good farming is a very profitable business in Eastern Virginia; and there is an unusual life and animation pervading the Agricultural community. It is probable that in a few years the aspect of the country will be much changed from that I have described. The general use of guano must effect great results, used discreetly. As an agent of improvement as well as of immediate money-getting, it will add vastly to the permanent value of land; otherwise, it is not improbable that its effects will be like that of hearty stimulating viands rashly devoured by a famished man—a wild flush of life and quick following death. Thus, judicious farmers will be enriched; poor farmers soon utterly impoverished. But this is conjecture, and guano thus far laughs at all the prophets.

I do not feel able, at present, to speak confidently of Eastern Virginia [138] as a field for emigration. Slavery, and bilious and intermittent fevers, are the main objections. If it were not for these, there are two classes whom I should have no hesitation in recommending to come here; and as it is, I must call their attention more particularly to the inducements offered.

The first class I refer to are the hundreds of thousands of New-England families, who may know, by the simplest calculation of chances, that if they remain where they are they are bound to be divided, broken up and brought to an end by that terrible New-England pestilence, Consumption. In southern Virginia my inquiries lead me to hope they will be comparatively safe from this most fearful danger. I have heard of many cases of New-Englanders predisposed to it, and exhibiting its warning marks, who have lived long and become permanently well after removing here; one or two such, on returning to New-England to reside after many years’ absence, have speedily fallen. New-Englanders, with steady, persevering, working habits, if they can retain them, and will buy small farms and till them well after the best New-England fashion, will prosper much more in a worldly way than at home. They can rear healthful families; and if they will but come, several together, and settle in communities, they can so secure good moral and intellectual training for them. They can only do this by controlling the school in which they are educated. I mean, of course, in general.

The great error made by Northern farmers moving here has been that they have allowed themselves, tempted by the almost frivolous prices of land to undertake too much. Calculate closely how much you can manage with your own family force, or the labor of those only to whom you can give pecuniary interest in the result. Do not plant a rood more than you can be sure of taking good care of all the way to harvest; better care than it is customary to give in New-England; more tillage is necessary here and is well repaid because the plants of all kinds suited to the climate are longer growing and grow larger and bear more heavily. Sell your farms for a little below what they would be appraised at, and come half a dozen together, and buy one Virginia plantation. If you have means enough to live in New-England, you have more than enough to buy it, build on it, fence and stock it in good style. Come together, stick together, and work together, and hold fast to the honorable calling of free men, working with their own hands, and you can find no better country for you this side heaven.

The other class whose attention should be called to Virginia is that of young English farmers. Since the repeal of the corn laws, no young man can live by renting land at anything like the present rates without either plenty of capital or plenty of credit and good luck. There are thousands of farmers’ sons in England, who, trained for a farmer’s life and fitted for no other, and having no inclination for any other, crowd the market and take farms at exorbitant rents, because they must do that or become mere pauper laborers. The style of farming in which they were educated, which did very well under the corn laws, is [139] altogether too slow under the reign of the houses of Manchester and Birmingham, and they are constantly breaking down and throwing up their rents.

They had better, it strikes me, come to Virginia. The climate and the slave system they must consider, but for the present leave these objections, and remark the advantages offered there.

They can own a farm in fee simple, for what they pay for a year’s use of one in England. To be sure, there will be no comparison in their quality. The soil of these farms is extremely poor—but little better than the midland heaths—but under the ordinary old-fashioned English farming, they would become rapidly of very fair quality; good for fifteen or twenty bushels of wheat. They are naturally very good light turnip soils. I have seen two crops of Swedes this year on them as good as any in Norfolk. Sheep enjoy the climate quite as well as that of England; they need less care than they do there, and less provision of food. Ranges for them could be erected for the merest trifle, in which, with a shepherd and dogs to protect them from other dogs and the negroes, they would find food through the Summer under the pines of the “old fields” I have described. Late in the Autumn there springs up in these also a mushroom, that sheep eat greedily, and on which they will get almost fat. With such a range for their general keeping, you could have a large stock to feed off clover and [to feed] turnips to, and rapidly and cheaply make your soil rich and firm enough for wheat. Indeed, the turnip and sheep husbandry of England (with some modification to admit Indian corn and sweet potatoes as an auxiliary to turnips), as it was carried on ten years ago, or before thorough drainage became general, seems to me just suited in every way to the soils and climate of Virginia. The crops suffer excessively from surface water, but it would not at all pay to thorough-drain in the present English fashion; narrow butts and deep water furrows as still used by the poor old-style farmers, would answer admirably well. Wheat may be presumed to be worth, on the farm, 90 cents, or 3s. 6d. to 3s. 9d. sterling, per bushel. It has commonly been better than this. Mutton and wool are worth within 10 per cent. here what they are in England. For the rest, the same advice that I gave to New-Englanders applies to all the world.

Wool-growing as a distinct business is likely to be very profitable in some parts of Virginia, especially in the counties near the Blue Ridge. But of this I am not at present prepared to speak particularly.