MOUMAKAHI.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LVII, Issue 260, 13 April 1915, Page 7

MOUMAKAHI.

(By Frank Norton, in Auckland Herald) In this fat Taranaki country nobody is complaining of dull times. So far as business and industry go the war does not seem to count in Taranaki. Back from the one or two passable towns it is no longer even a frequent topic of conversation. There are next to no v" books in the rural districts of this province.

It will be understood, then, that in Taranaki, the war does not count for much as an insistent actuality. It is known vaguely as a something in which the interests of the Empire are involved, a something that has ' ken a lot of tile yioung fellows away iur an indefinite period. But of the real stress and significance of the war ideas are vague. The linest thing 1 have seen in Taranaki is—Taranaki. A bountiful, homely country, richly grassed, often-inten-i sively cultivated, trees everywhere. And] the second finest is the State Experi-|i mental Farm at Moumahaki. The mea-j sure of my knowledge of agriculture and the kindred sicences may be adequately; 'expressed by the statement that I can ■distinguish between asparagus and a tur-i nip. Also, I can generally tell a Jersey! cow from a Hereford, though this may! seem rather like boasting. In any case, j Mr. Lonsdale and his staff at the Mou-l mahaiki State Farm know far more than! that. They go in for what is called, I' believe, intensive farming on a very thorough scale. The only ungrassed spots in the grazing paddocks are the spots filled by the stalks of the mushrooms. The total urea of the farm is only 3!Hi acres, ami of this about half is broken country, useless for experimental purposes. Experiments with grasses and plant-breeding go on all the year round, and I learned all sorts of: new and fascinating things about lucerne! and cocksfoot. Also, 1 unlearned the ancient theory I hail long harbored—the j theory that when any ground has raised a crop or two it must be fallowed. At' Moumahaki this crop follows that, and J that is succeeded by the next, in un- ' ceasing rotation. I saw paddocks from j which four distinct crops had been gar-; nercd in one season; and this season's' rainfall has been eighteen inches short of last. I cannot go into technical details but, I brought away from Moumahaki a sensibly deepened conviction that, in farming as in other things, the choicest fruits of industry go to the man who works scrupulously on scientific lines. Everything at Moumahaki is complete in its order and beautifully apt. Everything is far more productive than it is on average farms. In other words, labor ami expenditure at .Moumahaki yield quite exceptional returns. In the orchard 1. saw luscious pears ripening on Jow trolisscs —J have some of them in' my bag now. I saw families of Berkshire- pigs, all happy; and Nourishing in clean enclosures. 1 saw stable* and cow-houses tidy and sweet as houses in our mean streets seldom or never are. No confusion, no slovenliness, no waste. And yet Moumahaki itself is a great waste in one sense. I'm going to tell you why. On this farm in that rich country there are six students. Employment and valuable instruction could!

easily he given to fifty, and there are ] many young fellows waiting eagerly fjr a chance to get in. Now, the more students there are at Moumahaki the bet-' ter it is for the Dominion, and the rosier! are the agricultural prospects of the. Do-1 minion for the future. Scientific farming is not only more profitable than un-1 scientific fanning; it is also vastly more interesting. If wo could have a. thousand students constantly in training at Moumahaki and similar places the ulti-' mate benefit to the agricultural industry could not fail to be enormous. There is room, as I say, for fifty students at Moumahaki alone; but there is onlv housing accommodation for six—there lies the difficulty. Once again we are spoiling the ship for a ha'|)orth of tar. The cost of providing quarters for students would be merely trilling in comparison with the resulting IbcneJits. Farming does not pay when it is bad

farming; but profits increase in proper-1 tion as it is better. If farming all through Taranaki were scientific as farming is at Moumahaki the wealth of this province alone would be prodigious. But the farmer is a conservative by instinct; he learns slowly; he hates and distrusts the impact of new ideas. The farmer's sons on the other hand, are keen to learn; and they are to be the farmers of the next generation. Mr. Massey is himself a farmer. .So that there is hope that lie may even yet see to it that better provision is made, for farmers' at Moumahaki. I commenced to write this note at Inglewood, and I am finishing it at New Plymouth. My admiration deepens. Drowsy as this province is, I love it. The delicious green of all thingstrees, pastures, people—is appealing and truly very fine. The temperature, af' ter the rawness of Wellington, makes a

man comfy and glad. If I were the. sort of man that can settle and farm, this is I just the sort of province I should love to settle and farm in. It is attractive as tin! Waikato, but somehow cosier. H-; is not neglected and unk'inpt, as so much of the country north of Auckland is. It, reminds me remarkably at times, bvi dear glimpses here and there of the l-ji-di.-'h liiri.-ii-s; coimlrv. H- L- I'uL-d. above all things homelv. And the people are hospitable to a fault— reckoning I all things in their due proportions and de"reo«. The;- do not rush at one with 1 compelling brotherlv eves, as many of the Australians do. They an- cordial nij a ouiet w.iv: they really enjoy showing ' one whatever there, is to see-friendlier by far (if I mav sav so) than the averse or tvpical New Zealaimer is apt to be The fat earth nourishes them genm'mslv. and (bey are veil coni-nl. 'I h">' ; have every reason to be well content.