THE FARMER'S MAGAZINE. 



155 



THE HERDS OF GREAT BRITAIN. 



Chapter XXIV. 



MR. JONATHAN PEEL'S HERD. 



Burnley was at its old water-spout gambols, and had 

 just succeeded in turning the whole of its cattle show- 

 yard into a morass, when we fled from it Clitheroe- 

 wards, into the hill country, and found ourselves ere 

 night-fall at Knowlraere Manor, full eighteen miles away. 

 Nature and civilizatioD in the shape of fell and meadow 

 have long waged a fierce strife for the sovereignty of 

 this spot, but twelve years ago Mr. Peel threw a hand- 

 some Tudor house into the scale of the latter, and forced 

 Nature to fall back upon her foxes, her grouse, and, we 

 may almost add, her Lonks. The valley of the Ilodder 

 is one of the last places in which we should have 

 expected to find such a substantial tabernacle, and we 

 could almost fancy that some wandering band of free- 

 masons had reared it in the days when Tudor or Plan- 

 tagenet were living names, carved their quaint symbol 

 as a memorial on the stone, and departed as silently as 

 they came. To a lover of wild scenery, however, the 

 choice is fully justified. Knowl Hill is on the right, 

 with its cap of fir-trees, and in the distance the dark 

 Staple Oak ridge crosses the valley of the Hodder, so 

 dear to the Northern tourist, and looks down on the 

 home of "Eastwood's Rosette," and the Towneleylot 

 of yearlings and brood-mares at the Root Stud Farm. 

 About 125 acres on millstone grit and heather make up 

 Mr. Peel's sheep walk, and of the remaining 255 acres 

 at the Home Farm, Harrowfield and Gibbs, about 50 

 acres are arable. The estate lies on the western edge of 

 the Great Craven Fault, and the union of this limestone 

 formation with the millstone grit on the hill side caused 

 endless calculations and searchings of heart both to Mr. 

 Peel and his stalwart bailiff, Henry Clapham, who 

 originally acted as foreman of the drainers. Clapham 

 came to the task with an hereditary knowledge of the 

 subsoil difficulties, as his father held the farm for many 

 years before under Mr. Peel's gi-andfather, Like the 

 blast of Mr. Augustus Snodgrass's flute, you never 

 knew exactly where you had it. Not only were no two 

 fields alike, but there was no telling, from 30 inches to 

 10 feet, what depth you might have to go in each field. 

 The layers of watery clay and gravel went up and down by 

 an eccentric sliding-scale of Mother Earth's invention, 

 which it would have puzzled even Mr. Peel's great 

 Tamworth kinsman to define to the country gentlemen 

 on the back benches ; and when you got to drift clay, 

 there was nothing for it but to stop entirely, and place 

 the tiles thereon. Only one thing was certain — that the 

 grit would be always above the limestone, and not 

 directly in it ; but there was no great comfort in that. 

 A.D. 1844 saw the commencement of these fierce 

 labours of spade and pick- axe, and although the land 

 does not aspire to the glories of the Hodder side mea- 



dows, which have been known to let as high as 7 gs. an 

 acre, and feed off two sets of beasts and sheep in sum- 

 mer, it has already brought back its increase with com- 

 pound interest, in the shape of swedes, orange ovals, 

 cabbages, and kohl-rabi. 



The " black mutton," as the Robin Hoods of the 

 district delicately termed it, in the days of the " bold 

 Buccleuch," has quite disappeared from the Forest of 

 Bowland since the fiat of disparking went forth. 

 Those who just remember the killing of the last buck, 

 have long since grown into greybeards ; and when 

 antlers were extinct, the curved horn of the Lonk King 

 reigned paramount on the fells. His prescriptive title 

 among sheep may be traced back for more than a cen- 

 tury, all round thp. Keighley Moors, Pendle Hill, and 

 along the Forest of Bowland, to Lancaster. Nearer 

 Rochdale, the farmers are wont to crosD with the 

 Saddleworths for the sake of greater size, and the 

 blackfaced and sometimes a Leicester cross comes in 

 on the lower lands near Lancaster, but the Lonk 

 never nicks well with a Cheviot mate. Fastidious 

 breeders consider that there is a separate breed of Lonk 

 on every sheep walk, and discern the difference not in the 

 shape, but in the darker or lighter shade of mottle on 

 the face and legs. Quality of wool is of great Lonk 

 attribute, and hence Mr. Peel has never crossed his 

 flock with the Saddleworths, in spite of the temptation 

 of the extra size both in fleece and mutton. Width of 

 loin is the failing point, and by way of mending it and 

 getting quality of flesh as well, Mr. Peel resorted to 

 the Shropshire Down. The result, as compared with 

 the cross of a Leicester and a pure Exmoor ewe, is 

 rather remarkable. In the former case, the horn is 

 knocked completely out of the gimmer Iambs at the 

 first cross, while it remains on the tups ; and in the latter, 

 as proved by the Devonshire men's experience, the horn 

 is nearly always knocked out of both sexes. Mr. Peel's 

 plan has been to cross out once, and then in again, but 

 while he has thus succeeded in his original object, and 

 obtained a finer general outline, he finds that it requires 

 a second Lonk cross to get the wool (which has fetched 

 24s. per stone of 161bs.), back to its original length of 

 staple. The experiment, however, is not entirely satis- 

 factory, and Mr. Peel is returning with all speed to "the 

 old, pure, unmitigated Lonk." 



The Knowlmere flock consists of about 120 ewes, 

 and of these about forty or fifty are drafted every year, 

 and brought down from the fell, to the valley, where 

 they are put to a Leicester tup. The effect of their 

 better fare is to bring many more doublets, and except 

 the foot rot, for which the fell is an infallible specific, 

 attacks them very badly, they are never moved back 



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