I tried, in vain, the experiment of digging a deep, wide ditch across
the entire tract, in hopes of finding a porous subsoil. Then I
excavated great, deep holes, but came to a blue clay that held water
like rubber. The porous subsoil, in which I knew the region abounded,
and which makes Cornwall exceptionally free from all miasmatic
troubles, eluded our spades like hidden treasures. I eventually found
that I must obtain permission of a neighbor to carry a drain across
another farm to the mountain stream that empties into the Hudson at
Cornwall Landing. The covered drain through the adjoining place was
deep and expensive, but the ditch across my land (marked A on the map)
is a small one, walled with stone on either side. It answers my
purpose, however, giving me as good strawberry land as I could wish.
On both sides of this open ditch, and at right angles with it, I had
the ground plowed into beds 130 feet long by 21 wide. The shallow
depressions between these beds slope gently toward the ditch, and
thus, after every storm, the surface water, which formerly often,
covered the entire area, is at once carried away. I think my simple,
shallow, open drain is better than tile in this instance.

[Illustration: Map showing experiments in the drainage of a strawberry
farm]

As may be seen from the map, my farm is peculiar in outline, and
resembles an extended city lot, being 2,550 feet long, and only 410
wide.

The house, as shown by the engraving, stands on quite an elevation, in
the rear of which the land descends into another swale or basin. The
drainage of this presented a still more difficult problem. Not only
did the surface water run into it, but in moist seasons the ground was