ON GAULTING OR CLAYING THE SOIL.

burned in the open air, of the mean of twelve analyses, is thus given by Professor Johnston :

Potash, Soda,

Chloride of sodium,

Ash of Sea-weed. Mean.

17.50

12.70

16.56

Chloride of potassium,

0.93

Iodide of sodium,

0.95

Lime,

7.39

Phosphate of lime,

7.24

Magnesia,

Oxide of iron,

0.24

Sulphuric acid,

Silica,

24.76 1.84

9-89

100-00

This mean analysis of a number of sea-weeds agrees pretty nearly with that of kelp.*

2118. The sea-weed used in Scotland in manure is never cut from the rocks, but is thrown ashore by the sea. When used for converting into kelp, it is cut from the rocks; and the older the plant is, it is the better for being made into kelp, as also into manure, no doubt. But, in other parts of the world, sea-weed is regularly cut from the rocks for manure alone, as may be seen from the following description of the varec (the Scottish wrack) harvest in Jersey. "The vraic harvest is another peculiarity of Jersey," says Mr Burn Murdoch. "The time of the harvest is regulated by the States-that is, they issue permission to begin cutting upon a certain day, and fix a time at which it is to cease. Friday, the 1st March, was this year (1844) the day of its commencement, and early that forenoon I repaired to the point of Le Hocq to witness the operation. The rocks at this point extend a very great way from the shore at low water,

and are covered with the sea-weed. Upon this occasion the tide was very far out, and little appearance of bustle was observable from the shore, the dark nature of the rock preventing the people from being seen from such a distance. Of course, they commence when the tide is farthest out, and retreat as it rises. I walked out to the furthest extremity of the dry portion, and there the multitudes of men, women, and children, and horses and carts, which covered the rocks, quite

astonished me. The weed is cut from the rock by short hooks, and laid in small heaps, and then loaded upon the carts and driven off till it is carried beyond high-water mark, where it is generally emptied, and left to be carried inland at leisure. It is a very wet job; but still the country-people like it—-it brings them together;

and many courtships are said to be carried on at vraic harvest. They bake bread of a particular kind for the occasion, and their food is otherwise of a more generous description than what is in general use: it is, in fact, a kind of gathering or meeting of the whole people, and, as such, causes a variety and stir in the ordinary routine of the Jersey life. The sea-weed thus procured is of

2120. The drainage of the fen is effected by artificial rivers running to seaward from the different districts into which the fen land is divided. The extent of the districts vary from 200 to 4000 acres each, and they are inclosed by dikes communicating with a main drain, which runs to a windmill or steam-engine, by which the water is pumped out of it, and transferred into the river. The entire country, with the exception of about 6000 acres, is under a regular system of drainage and cultivation.

2121. The soil of the fen consists of decayed vegetable matter on a stratum of moor, which again rests in some places on a subsoil of gravel, in others, and much more generally, of clay. The situation of the clay varies in different districts: in some it is ploughed up at the surface, in others it is not reached until digging for twenty feet below the surface. The nearer the clay is the surface, the better is the land cultivated, the clay being dug up, and the surface top-dressed with it; and it is this process of top-dressing which I propose now to describe.

2122. The fen land adjoining the hard lands partaking of the characters of both, is called skirty land, and it possesses, generally, great fertility. For a similar extent

-Let a b c d be the four sides of the field to be clayed, and let ee be the sites of the pits out of which the clay is to be taken. The space between the pits depends on the depth the clay is from the surface: if the clay is deep, the distance between the pits is 12 yards, as between 9 and 7; if other wise, it is extended to 20 yards: and varying between these two extremes. When the distance has been determined on, it is marked by a plough making a furrow in each line of pits.

2125. The width of the pits depends also on the depth of the clay; if it is 2 feet deep to the clay, the width is 3 feet 3 inches, but if 6 feet and upwards, the width is made 4 feet.

2126. A pit is dug in the first line e, which should be made near the fence a b; and at m, halfway distant between the first line of pits e and the second line e, the

surface soil taken out of the first pit e is laid down. The pits are made 9 feet in length. Should the clay be far down, the sides of the pit e should be supported by planks, or frame-work of wood, to prevent the earth falling in, and to protect the lives of the men working in them; for many a life has been sacrificed for the want of this precaution. The clay as it is dug out is taken up with a fork or spade by a girl or boy, and thrown equally over the space indicated between the dotted line mh and the fence line a d, on both sides of the pit in which the men are working. Two good spits of the spade generally afford the requisite quantity of clay.

2127. After one pit has been sufficiently dug out, another is formed along the line, a space of the ground n being left untouched between the pits, of sufficient strength to support the sides from curving in. The upper soil of the second pit is put into the first pit, to fill it up as far as it will go, and the clay is taken out of the second pit and spread upon the surface, exactly in the same manner as described, and so on, from pit to pit, until all the pits in the line are dug. When the first pit in the second line at is begun, its surface soil is wheeled to fill up the last pit dug at g; and when all the pits have been dug out in the line le, the surface soil first taken out and put down at m is wheeled to fill up the last pit dug in el. In this manner with every two rows of pits is the entire field spread over with the clay.

OF THE WEATHER IN SPRING.

2130. As regards vegetation, we have seen that winter is the season of repose, of passive existence, of dormancy, though not of death. Spring, on the contrary, is the season of returning life, of passing into active exertion, of hope, and of joy of hope, as the world of life springs into view immediately after the industrious hand has scattered the seed upon the ground-and of joy, in contemplating, with confidence, the reproductions of the herds and flocks. I am unequal to the task of describing the emotions to which this delightful season gives birth; and I would rather that you should go into the country and enjoy the pleasure for yourself; for "the chosen draught, of which every lover of nature may drink, can be had, in its freshness and purity, only at the living fountain of nature; and if we attempt to fetch it away in the clay pitchers of human description, it loses all its spirit, becomes insipid, and acquires an earthy taste from the clay."

2131. To enjoy the beauties of spring in perfection, "it is necessary to take advantage of the morning, when the beams of the newly-risen sun are nearly level with the surface of the earth; and this is the time when the morning birds are in their finest song, when the earth and the air are in their greatest freshness, and when all nature mingles in one common morning hymn of gratitude. There is something peculiarly arousing and strengthening, both to the body and the mind, in the early time of the morning; and were we always wise enough to avail ourselves of it, it is almost incredible with what ease and pleasure the labours of the most diligent life might be performed. When we take the day by the beginning, we can regulate the length of it according to our necessities; and whatever may be our

perform them, to cultivate our minds, and to worship our Maker, without the one duty interfering with the other.

2132. "The day-spring of the morning leads us, by an easy and very natural transition, to the day-spring of human life, the morning of our sojourn upon earth; and the parallels between the commencement of the life itself, and of those successive days by which it is numbered, is a parallel the most striking. There is a freshness in young life which no experience can acquire for us at any future time, and there is a newness in every object, which is not felt after years have passed over our heads. Our bodies are light, flexible, easily moved, and not liable to be injured. Our minds, too, never become wearied or listless; and although the occupation and the thought are necessarily different from those of persons of mature age, they are far more energetic, and what is learned or done takes a more permanent hold of the memory. There are many circumstances which render the morning of life of far more importance than the morning of an individual day. It is a morning to which no to-morrow morning can follow; and, therefore, if it is neglected, all is inevitably and utterly lost. We cannot exactly make up the loss of even one morning, though we can repair it a little by our diligence in future mornings. We must bear in mind, however, that the means of doing this is a mercy to us, and not a privilege that we can command as our own. We never 'know what a day may bring forth;' and as there daily occur around us instances in which the young and the strong are at once levelled to the dust, we never can be certain that the demand shall not be made on ourselves-this night is thy soul required of thee.' But if it is thus perilous to neglect one morning out of many, how much more perilous to neglect

the one morning of a life-a life granted by a beneficent God, in a world full of the wonders of his power, capable of enjoyment, and deny him service while it lasts, and in the fulness of time entering, through the atonement of the eternal Son, a life of bliss which shall have no end."*

2133. Spring is a busy season on the farm. The cattle-man, besides continuing his attendance on the fattening cattle, has now the more delicate task of waiting on the cows at calving, and providing comfortable lairs for new-dropped calves. The dairymaid commences her labours, not in the peculiar avocations of the dairy, but in rearing calves-the support of a future herd-which, for a time, are indulged with every drop of milk the cows can yield. The farrows of pigs also claim a share of her solicitude. The shepherd, too, has his painful watchings, day and night, on the lambing ewes; and his care of the tender lambs, until they are able to gambol upon the new grass, is a task of peculiar interest, and insensibly leads to higher thoughts

66

we cannot refrain from thinking of the unspeakable condescension and kindness of Him who feeds his flock like a shepherd, gathers the lambs into his arms and carries them in his bosom, and gently leads those that are with young.'"

2134. The condition of the fields demands attention as well as the reproduction of the stock. The day now affords as many hours for labour as are usually bestowed at any season in the field. The ploughmen, therefore, know no rest for at least twelve hours every day, from the time the harrows are yoked for the spring wheat until the turnips are sown. The turnip land, bared as the turnips are consumed by sheep, is now ridged up at once for spring wheat, should the weather be mild and the soil dry enough, or else crossploughed, and the ridging delayed until the barley-seed. The first sowing is the spring wheat, then the beans, and then the oat-seed. The fields containing the fallow land now receive a cross-furrow, in the order of the fallow-crops-the potatoes first, then turnips, and lastly the bare fallow. Grass seeds are now sown amongst the young autumnal wheat, as well as

amongst the spring wheat and the barley. The field-workers devote their busy hours to carrying seed to the sower, turning dunghills in preparation of the manure for the potato and turnip crops, continuing the barn-work to supply litter for the stock yet confined in the steading, and to prepare the seed-corn for the fields. The hedger resumes his work of watertabling and scouring ditches, cutting down and breasting old hedges, and taking care to release the sprouting buds of the young quicks from the face of the hedge-bank, which he may have planted at the commencement and during fresh weather in winter. The steward is now on the alert, sees to the promotion of every operation, and intrusts the sowing of the crops to none but himself, except a tried hand, such as the skilful hedger, or to an experienced ploughman in managing an approved grainsowing machine. Thus every class of labourers have their work appropriated for them at this busy season; and as the work of every one is individually defined, it is scarcely possible for so great a mistake to be committed as that any piece of work should be neglected by all.

2135. The farmer himself now feels that he must be "up and doing;" his mind becomes stored with plans for future execution; and in order to see them executed at the proper time, and in the best manner, he must now forego all visits, and remain at home for the season; or at most undertake an occasional and hasty journey to the market-town to get quit of surplus grain, when the draughts have a leisure day to deliver it. The business of the fields now requiring constant attendance, his mind as well as body becomes fatigued, and, on taking the fireside after the labours of the day are over, seeks for rest and relaxation rather than mental toil. He should at this season pay particular attention to the state of the weather, by observing the barometric and thermometric changes, and make it a point to observe every external phenomenon that has a bearing upon the changes of the atmosphere, and be guided accordingly in giving his instructions to his people.

2136. On this account the state of the

weather requires constant, attention. The weather in spring, in the zone we inhabit, is exceedingly variable, alternating, at short intervals, from frost to thaw, from rain to snow, from sunshine to cloud-very different from the steady character of the arctic spring, in which the snow melts without rain, and the meads are covered with vernal flowers ere the last traces of winter have disappeared. Possessing this variability in its atmospherical phenomena, spring presents few of them having peculiarities of their own, unless we except the constant east wind which blows from March to May, and the very heavy falls of snow which occasionally occur.

2137. Wind. So invariable is the phenomenon of the E. wind in spring, that every person who dwells on the east coast of Great Britain is quite familiar with it, having felt its keenness and known its aptitude to produce catarrhal affections. An explanation of this remarkable phenomenon has been given by Mr Samuel Marshall. "In Sweden and Norway," he observes, "the face of the country is covered with snow to the middle of May or longer. This frozen covering, which has been formed during winter, grows gradually shallower to the 15th or 16th of May, or until the sun has acquired 17° or 18° N. declination; while, on the other hand, the valleys and mountains of England have received an accession of 24° or 25°. On this account, when the temperature of Sweden and Norway is cooled down by snow to 32°, that of Britain is 24° or 25° higher than that of the preceding countries. Because, while the ground is covered with snow, the rays of the sun are incapable of heating the air above 32°, the freezing point. For this reason the air of England is 24° or 25° more heated than that of the before-mentioned countries. The air of Sweden and Norway will then, of course, by the law of comparative specific gravity, displace that of England, and, from the relative situation of those countries with this country, will produce a N.E. wind. The current is in common stronger by day than by night, because the variation of temperature is at that time the greatest, being frequently from 50° to 60° about noon, and sinking to 32° in the night." *

"

2138. All the seasons have their peculiar influence on the winds. "In spring," says Schouw, "E. winds are common; at certain places in March, at others in April. They diminish the force of the W. current, which, in many countries, is at that time weaker than during the rest of the year. The relation of N. to S. winds is not constant, and varies according to the localities. In some the direction is more N., in others more S. than the mean direction of the year."

2139. "When winds come from distant countries, they possess a part of the properties by which those countries are characterised," is an observation of Kaemtz. "Thus the W. winds, that blow from the sea, are much more moist than the E., which traverse continents. The latter, particularly when they are N.E., are very cold, especially in spring; and they give rise to a great number of rheumatic affections. The very opposite sensations produced by violent S. or N. winds, are much more marked in countries whose inhabitants live in the open air. I should not have noticed these differences had not these winds been characterised by particular denominations. In the S. of Europe the N. winds are celebrated for their violence and for their severity. The opposition between the elevated temperature of the Mediterranean and the Alps, covered with snow, give rise to aërial currents of extreme rapidity. If their effect is added to that of a general N. wind, there is produced a N.E. wind, having a violence of which we can form no idea. In Istria and Dalmatia this wind is known under the name of bora, and its force is such that it sometimes overturns horses and ploughs. It is the same up the valley of the Rhone, where a very cold S. wind often prevails, which is named mistral, and which is not less formidable than the N. wind known in Spain under the name of gallego."