Chapter III: Part 3

In the hareems of the middle and lower classes, the same system of strict seclusion cannot, of course, be maintained as in the case of the "hidden jewels" (as they are called) of the grandees:--the women frequent the public baths, and are allowed to visit their neighbours without restraint; but shopping is generally prohibited, for reasons which may be gathered from the Thousand and One Nights:--and goods for sale are brought to the hareems by female brokers. The system of blindfold marriages is universal; and except among the lowest class, it is scarcely possible that the bridegroom and bride should get a glimpse of each other before their espousals--and the betrothals are generally made at a ridiculously early age. A lady gravely asked Mrs Poole whether one of her boys, thirteen years of age, was married--and she witnessed a marriage procession in which the almost infant bride, taking the whole affair as a good joke, thought proper to walk backwards before the canopy fanning her friends, instead of submitting to be fanned. The natural consequence of these early marriages is, that "among the lower orders some husbands are sad tyrants; they marry such little young creatures, that they are more like children than wives, and their inexperience unjustly provokes their husbands." An original sort of revenge was threatened in her hearing by a man irritated by the abusive language of a little girl, whose tongue was the plague of the neighbourhood--"When I have a little more money, I will marry you, and punish you every day." Mrs Poole indeed expresses her conviction, reluctantly forced upon her, that in the middle and lower classes,[25] both wives and female slaves are often treated with the utmost brutality; and she mentions two instances in her own neighbourhood, in which the death of women of the latter class was caused by the cruelty of their masters. In both these cases, however, the men were Copts--a people of whom (in spite of the efforts of the English Missionary Society to make them something more than nominal Christians) she was assured, by one who knew them well, "that their moral state is far worse than that of the Muslims, and that in the _conduct_ of the latter there is much more Christianity than is exhibited in that of the former."[26] An anecdote, casually introduced, enables us to judge of the education which children receive on this point. On a visit to the wife of the keeper of the tombs of Mohammed Ali's family, a boy just able to walk was brought in, when "the chief lady called for a stick, that puss, who was quietly crossing the carpet, might be beaten for his amusement. I interceded for the cat, when she replied mysteriously, 'I like her very much--I will not hurt her.' Accordingly she raised her arm with considerable effort, and let it fall gently. She next desired one of her slaves to kneel, which the girl did most gracefully, and bent her head with an air of mock submission to receive the _kurbaj_, and the same farce was repeated. Though neither slave nor cat was a sufferer, the effect must have been equally bad on the mind of the child. Alas! for the slaves and cats when he is big enough to make them feel!"

The children, however, occasionally fare no better than the slaves; and Mr Lane was not seldom obliged, by the screams of the sufferers, to interfere to stop the cruelty practised in his neighbourhood, when "the answer usually returned was of the most civil kind, assuring us, with many salutations, that _for our sakes_ the offender shall be forgiven." On one occasion an old woman, to punish her little grandson for a trifling theft, had employed the services of a professional _beater_, who had tied the child's legs and arms, and was beating him with a ponderous stick, while his grandmother cried, "again!" and only desisted on a peremptory remonstrance from Mr Lane; yet the same woman disturbed the neighbourhood with her lamentations every alternate Monday for the loss of her son, the little boy's father! It is perhaps hardly fair to cite instances of brutality like this, to which our own police-offices afford abundance of parallels, as examples of the national manners of Egypt; and Mrs Poole does full justice to the spirit of mutual aid which prevails among the poor in all Moslem countries, and teaches them "to bear each other's burdens." The women, especially those of the higher class, are admitted to be the "most affectionate of mothers." They are so possessed, however, by terror of the "evil eye," which they firmly believe may be cast on their children by an admiring word or glance, that the smallest allusion to them is hazardous. Mrs Poole was much amused by the agitation of an Arab lady, in conversation with whom she had congratulated herself that the strength of her eldest boy's constitution had preserved him from the ill effects of the heat. "In an instant she vociferated, 'Bless the Prophet! bless the Prophet!' and coloured deeply." And it was with difficulty that Mrs Poole could calm her, or convince her that the English apprehended no danger from the expression of their satisfaction in the welfare of those they love.

It is not easy for even the most experienced to avoid _contretemps_ of this kind in the East, where even the ordinary observances of life seem to have been arranged on a system diametrically opposite to our own; and some amusing anecdotes are given of the _gaucheries_ unconsciously committed by raw tourists from Europe. At the house of an Egyptian grandee, an European gentleman, on receiving the sherbet after pipes and coffee, which was handed to him first as a stranger, "looked at it for a moment, and then at the gaily-embroidered napkin hung over the arm of the slave who presented it; and following the impulse given, I conclude, by his preconceptions of Eastern habits of cleanliness, dipped his fingers in the sweet beverage, and wiped them on the napkin!" A less pardonable breach of etiquette, as it proceeded not from ignorance but want of good-breeding, was committed by two Franks, who, arranged in a motley mixture of European and Oriental costume, made their way into the Pasha's palace at Shubra, and, after rambling from room to room without meeting any one, at length entered the bedroom of the Pasha, who was nearly undressed! "Though taken by surprise, his Turkish coolness did not forsake him; calling for his dragoman, he said, 'Ask those gentlemen where they bought their tarbooshes?' 'At Constantinople.' 'And _there_,' rejoined the Pasha, 'I suppose they learned their manners. Tell them so.' Judging from this retort that their presence was not agreeable, the Franks saluted the viceroy, and withdrew."

As we profess to deal with Mrs Poole solely in her own peculiar province, as a delineator of female manners and female society in Egypt, we shall pass with brief notice her visit to the Pyramids, the account of which contains much valuable information, supplied (as she avows,) from the notes of her brother. The excursion, though at a short distance from Cairo, is not altogether unattended with danger, especially to ladies, from the attacks of the Bedawees; as appears from the remarks of some young men, the sons of a Bedawee sheykh at some distance, who had ridden over, as they admitted, in the hope of seeing the faces of the ladies of the party, and were much disappointed at finding them veiled. They had been much struck by the charms of a beautiful American whom they had seen a few weeks before; and one of then exclaimed, in speaking of her--"But the sword! the sword! if we dared to use it, we would kill that man," alluding to the lady's companion, whether her husband or brother, "and take her for ourselves."--"'Tis well for pretty women travelling in the East, that these lawless Arabs are kept under a degree of subjection by the present government," says Mrs Poole; and the anecdote affords an indication that, when the reins of administration are released by the death of the present Pasha, the overland route to India may not be quite so secure as it is at present.

But there is another, a modern wonder of Cairo, which, of late years, has almost equally divided with the Pyramids the attention of Frank travellers. We allude to the sheykh Abdel-Kadir el-Maughrabi, in whose enchanted mirror of ink, poured into the palm of an unsophisticated Arab boy, men from all parts of the earth were compelled to appear before the tent of the Sultan, with its seven mystic flags, and submit to a description of their persons and dress, which would have satisfied the vigilance of the Russian police. The oracular sagacity of the _Quarterly Review_ was unable to solve the mystery; and even Mr Lane, in his _Modern Egyptians_, hesitates whether to doubt or to believe; but the bubble (as we learn from Mrs Poole) has at last burst; and the two familiar spirits, Turshoon and Turyooshoon, stand revealed in the late Osman Effendi, interpreter to the British consulate. Since the death of this respectable personage, who usually acted as master of the ceremonies at his performances, the good fortune of the sheykh has totally deserted him, as he himself inadvertently admitted to Mr Lane, when he not long since accompanied two English travellers to witness the exhibition, which proved an entire failure; and since that time his attempts have been even more signally unsuccessful. Whatever may have been the means employed, there is no longer any doubt that Osman Effendi, who sat quiet and demure in a corner, without word or sign, was the prime agent in the deception; and with him the reputation of the last representative of Pharaoh's magicians has vanished for ever, like the visions in his own magic mirror.

* * * * *

The series of Mrs Poole's letters closes abruptly in April 1844, with the relation of one of her visits to the friendly harem of Habeeb Effendi; and no intimation is given either of the cause of the second cessation, or whether a second series may be hereafter expected. We hope that this may be the case; for, independent of the interest attaching to the subject, and the difficulty of finding another equally qualified by opportunity and powers of observation to do it justice, the time must inevitably soon be past when it will be possible to depict the habitudes and manners of the Arab population in their integrity. Cairo is at present, with the single exception perhaps of Damascus, the most purely Arab city in the East; but the ruthless reforms of the Pasha, and the constant passage of the Franks on this new high-road to India, will erelong divest it of its distinguishing characteristics, and give it as hybrid an aspect as that of the Frank intruders into the Pasha's chamber. An English hotel has already started up; and Mrs Poole informs us, that "by a proclamation of the Pasha, the houses are to be whitewashed within and without; those who inhabit ruined houses are to repair or sell them; and uninhabited dwellings are to be pulled down, for the purpose of forming squares and gardens; _meshreebeyehs_ (projecting first-floor windows) are forbidden; and _mastabahs_ (the seats in front of shops) are to be removed. Cairo, therefore, will no longer be an Arab city, and will no longer possess those peculiarities which render it so picturesque and attractive. The deep shade in the narrow streets, increased by the projecting windows; the picturesque tradesmen, sitting with one friend or more before his shop, enjoying the space afforded by his mastabah--these will be no more; and while I cannot but acknowledge the great necessity for repairing the city, and removing the ruins which threaten the destruction of passengers, I should have liked these features retained which are essentially characteristic--which help, as it were, to group the people, and which form such admirable accessories to pictures."

PRACTICAL AGRICULTURE--STEPHENS' BOOK OF THE FARM, &c.

The growing demand for information among the agricultural classes, makes the appearance of new books of a really trustworthy kind of greater national value at the present time than at any former period. Besides, as our knowledge is rapidly advancing, good books upon practical agriculture are becoming more difficult to write. They require from their authors a larger acquaintance with the newer branches of elementary science than many practical men can be expected as yet to possess. These considerations induce us to advert for the second time to the work now before us. We drew the attention of our readers to the first volume when it made its appearance; two other volumes completing the work having since been published, we feel ourselves under a kind of obligation to follow the author cursorily through the remainder of his book.

_The Book of the Farm_ might be called _The Practical Farmer's Library_, since it contains full information upon almost every practical subject upon which the intelligent young farmer is likely to require assistance or advice. The scientific branch alone is not systematically discussed, though here and there useful scientific points are treated of and explained. But this was not to be expected in a really practical work; and the author, upon this branch, very properly refers his readers to the published works of Professor Johnston.[27]

The feature that struck us most in the perusal of the first volume, was the remarkably wide range of minutely practical information which the author possesses and embodies in his book. He describes every practical operation as if he had not only assisted at it on some former occasion, but as if he were actually performing it while he is describing it with his pen. This gives a truthfulness and self-evident accuracy to his descriptions, which are rarely to be met with in agricultural works, and which could not be expected from one who was not really familiar with the points of which he treats. He seems even to enjoy every labour he describes, to enter into the spirit of every operation to be performed--into the heart and fun of the thing as it were. He becomes an actual participator in the fact--a _particeps criminis_.

No matter whether it is the currying or the skinning of his horse--the shoeing or the riding--taking him to the field or to the tanner, Mr Stephens is equally ready and willing for all. He tells you with the same glee, how to shelter your sheep on the hill side, and how to cut their throats after the most approved fashion; how to lay on fat on your short-horns--what are the marks of their being ripe for the butcher--and how you can kill them in the _most Christian_ way. He pets his sheep-dog and praises him, tells you how kindly you should treat him, what constant encouragement you should give to so faithful a servant, at what age he should be hanged, and how you can make most of his skin. He instructs you to tend your young lambs, he helps you to select a pet from the flock; he goes with you afterwards to the barn, helps you to kill and skin it, teaches you to score and cross it in the most approved style, cuts it up for you like an anatomist, selects the best joint for your own cook; sits down with you afterwards at your own table and carves it, and after he has helped you all to your general satisfaction, he is still connoisseur enough to keep the best bit of all for his own plate.

Besides this living spirit, which pervades all the descriptions of methods and operations, another excellence we have remarked in these volumes is the _kind_ of opinions given upon practical points, in reference to which a difference of sentiment prevails among practical men. They are in general _safe_ opinions--leaning always to the prudent side in cases of doubtful practice. If they appear, therefore, in some cases, not to come up to the notions of those lovers of change, who would improve agriculture as engineers make railroads--without regard to their cost or to the interest of the capital expended--they will appear to all sound men to be so much the better fitted to guide the rising farmers of the present day. These young men _must_ possess more knowledge than their fathers, if they are to continue upon the land; but they will also soon disappear from the land, notwithstanding their knowledge, if a balance of profit at the end of the year be not considered an indispensable element in their system of husbandry.

The book, as we formerly stated, is divided into four parts, embracing in succession the proper operations to be performed in the four seasons, commencing with those of the winter.

To the greater part of the winter operations, as described and explained by Mr Stephens, we adverted in our former notice: there remains one topic, however, to which, from its great national importance, we must still turn for a little.

Among the various improvements which, in the dead season of the year, the farmer may undertake with profit to himself and advantage to his farm, is that of draining. Of this kind of improvement almost every farm in the country is more or less susceptible. But how should it be done, at what depth, and with what material? As to the depth, the young farmer who wishes to do his work well, will neither imitate nor rely too much on the practice of the district he comes from, or in which his own farm may happen to be situated. If so, he will, in Ayrshire--by the advice of the wise-acres in that county--put in his drains only twenty inches, or two feet, in depth; in Berwickshire he will sink them to three feet; and in Sussex he may be carried along with the rising tide to put none in shallower than four feet. He will not trust, we say, wholly to example. He will say to himself rather, what is the object I have in view, and what implements have I to effect it?

In draining he has one leading, one master object, we may call it, to attend to. He has to deepen his soil, that the roots of his crops may descend further--may draw their food from greater depths, and from a larger body of earth. The more completely he can effect this, the better will his work be done.

How deep will his crops send down their roots? In favourable circumstances his wheat and clover, and even his turnips, will descend to a depth of three feet. His operations, then, would be in some degree perfect, if he could so open, and drain, and doctor his land as to enable and induce the roots of his crops to go down so far as this.

But they will never, or rarely at least, descend lower than the level of the water in the bottom of his drains. He cannot, therefore, hope to make his soil available for the growth of his crops to a greater depth than that to which his drains descend. Three feet then, he will say, appears to be a reasonable depth for a _perfect_ drain.

Again, drained land must be opened beneath by the subsoil plough, or by the fork, if the rains, and roots, and air, are to descend, and the full benefits are to be derived from the drains. With our existing implements--especially with the fork--the soil may be stirred to a depth of twenty-six inches. The top of the drain, therefore, should be at least this depth under the surface; and this, again, brings the whole depth of a perfect drain to within a few inches of three feet as before.

Then as to the material, it seems advisable to use either stones or tiles, according as the one or the other is the cheaper, provided always that the stones are properly broken, and carefully put in. The tide seems now to be running in favour of smaller tiles than have hitherto been generally used in Scotland, and even of pipe-tiles of a very small diameter. Our friend Mr Smith of Deanston has taken out a patent for a pipe-tile, with projecting fingers at the ends, which dovetail into each other, so as to unite the tiles together, and at the same time to keep them in their places. Should these pipes be found generally efficient, the cost of draining will be considerably diminished, while the small space they occupy will afford greater facilities for deepening the soil.

But the economical considerations connected with draining, are as important as the practical methods to be adopted, both to the cultivator of the soil and to the country at large. We shall advert only to one of these.

In what light ought the expenditure of money in draining to be regarded by the practical man?

He ought to consider it only as a mercantile speculation, by which he may or may not make a profit, according to the degree of prudence with which it is undertaken. He has the usufruct of his farm for a certain number of years, with liberty to crop it in a certain way. By this he hopes to make a certain sum of money. But it is capable of improvement by draining, and he has liberty to drain if he likes. "Well," he says to himself, "I make a certain sum by farming my land as it is; I have here fifty pounds of ready money, could I make more profit if I were to lay this money out in draining it?--would it be a good speculation?" He calculates the cost of draining and the probable return of profit, and the result is apparently that he _can_ make more profit by this use of his money than by any other way in which he could employ it. This being the result, the prudent man embarks in this safe speculation. He does not bury his money in his land; he does not give it away to the land to the loss of his family; he only lends it for a season, and for the benefit of his family. He has made his calculations badly, and has only his own arithmetic to blame, if he does not get all his capital back from the land, with a handsome profit in addition, some years before his lease has expired.

Many tenants think the interest of the landlord should enter into their calculations, and some cherish or excite in their own minds ill feelings towards their landlords at the idea of leaving their drains in the land when they quit, and the land itself in better condition than when they entered upon their farms. But this feeling arises altogether from a want of familiarity on their part with the ordinary feelings of mercantile men and the transactions of mercantile business. The farmer's sole aim is to promote his own interest. If that interest is to be promoted by draining, let him do it immediately, and with all his heart; his own profit will not be a whit the less that the landlord comes in for a little profit too when the lease has expired. The builder who takes thirty or forty years' lease of a bit of land in the neighbourhood of London, is not deterred from planting houses upon it, by the reflection that at the end of his lease the houses will become the property of his landlord. Long before that time has expired, he hopes to have his principal and his profit both safe in his pocket. If he does not cherish these hopes, he is either a fool or a rogue.

On one other point connected with draining, we are anxious to quote Mr Stephens' own words. In reply to the question, is your land drained? we have so often received the answer--"Oh, sir, my land is dry, it does not require draining"--that we request the serious attention of such of our readers as are interested in the improvement of land, to the following passage:--

"Land, however, though it does not contain such a superabundance of
water as to obstruct arable culture, may nevertheless, by its
inherent wetness, prevent or retard the luxuriant growth of useful
plants, as much as decidedly wet land. The truth is, that deficiency
of crops on apparently dry land is frequently attributed to unskilful
husbandry, when it really arises from the baleful influence of
_concealed_ stagnant water; and the want of skill is shown, not so
much in the management of the arable culture of the land, as in
neglecting to remove the true cause of the deficiency of the crop,
namely, the concealed stagnant water. Indeed, my opinion is--and its
conviction has been forced upon me by dint of long and extensive
observation of the state of the agricultural soil over a large
portion of the country--that this is the _true cause of most of the
bad farming to be seen_, and that _not one farm_ is to be found
throughout the kingdom that would _not be much the better for
draining_. Entertaining this opinion, you will not be surprised at my
urging upon you to practise draining, or at my lingering at some
length on the subject, that I may exhibit to you the various modes of
doing it, according to the peculiar circumstances in which your farm
may be placed."--(Vol. i. p. 483.)

With the substance of these remarks we entirely agree. We would only not put the point so broadly as to imply, that the want of draining was the only cause of the bad farming we see. We have, however, been over large tracts of Scotland, and we are quite sure that whole counties might be made to yield the double of their present produce by an efficient drainage, and proper subsequent management.

We pass over the very succinct and methodical description of the processes of threshing, winnowing, &c., and can note only one point out of the great mass of very interesting matter Mr Stephens has brought together, in regard to the composition, qualities, and uses of the different kinds of grain. The point to which we shall advert is the composition of oatmeal. Every country is naturally prejudiced in favour of its national food. We Britons look with real or affected disgust on the black rye-bread of the northern nations; and yet on this food the people thrive, are strong, healthy, and vigorous. The bread, too, is sweet to the taste. It is only disagreeable associations, therefore--connected in our minds with the darkness of the colour--that make us consider it disagreeable or unwholesome. In like manner, our Irish brethren are strong, vigorous, and merry, on their potato diet. Why should we condemn it as the lowest kind of diet, or pity those who are content to live almost wholly upon it? It is true that, from its being the main staff of Irish life, great distress ensues when a failure takes place in the potato crop. But such would be the consequence of a general failure in any kind of crop on which they might happen chiefly to rely. The cure for such seasons of suffering, therefore, is not to be sought so much in bringing about change of diet, as in introducing a better system of husbandry--an improved system of drainage especially--by which a general failure of any crop will be rendered a more rare occurrence. The spread of railroads will soon render it comparatively easy to transport even the bulky potato from one county to another, and thus to prevent the recurrence of famine prices.

But in South Britain the oatmeal of the Scottish peasantry--the national food--is looked upon with as much prejudice, and those who live upon it with as much pity, as the black bread-eaters of Germany and Sweden, or the potato-diggers of Ireland. But the health and strength of the Scottish peasantry, who live entirely upon oatmeal, is proverbial. On this subject, in speaking of the Scottish ploughmen, where the bothy system is practised--that is, where the single men all live together in a room or bothy provided for them, which serves them both for sleeping and cooking---Mr Stephens has the following characteristic passage:--

"The oatmeal is usually cooked in one way, as _brose_, as it is
called, which is a different sort of pottage to porridge. A pot of
water is put on the fire to boil, a task which the men take in turns;
a handful or two of oatmeal is taken out of the small chest with
which each man provides himself, and put into a wooden bowl, which
also is the ploughman's property; and on a hollow being made in the
meal, and sprinkled with salt, the boiling water is poured over the
meal, and the mixture receiving a little stirring with a horn spoon,
and the allowance of milk poured over it, the brose is ready to be
eaten; and as every man makes his own brose, and knows his own
appetite, he makes just as much brose as he can consume. The bowl is
scraped clean with the spoon, and the spoon licked clean with the
tongue, and the dish is then placed in the meal-chest for a similar
purpose on the succeeding occasion. The fare is simple, and is as
simply made; but it must be wholesome, and capable of supplying the
loss of substance occasioned by hard labour; for _I believe that no
class of men can endure more bodily fatigue, for ten hours every day,
than those ploughmen of Scotland who subsist on this brose thrice
a-day_."--(Vol. ii. p. 384.)

The quantity of oatmeal allowed to the ploughman--_as his sole food_--is two pecks, or 17-1/2 lbs. in a week, exactly 2-1/2 lbs. a-day--or 3/4 lb. for each meal--and yet it often happens that a hard-worked ploughman cannot consume the whole of this allowance. Speaking again of oatmeal _porridge_, Mr Stephens says, "there are few more wholesome meals than oatmeal porridge, or upon which a harder day's work can be wrought. Children of all ranks in Scotland are brought up on this diet, verifying the line of Burns,

"'The halesome parritch, chief of Scotia's food.'"

As southern prejudices have a tendency to make their way northward, and, in the face of old experience at home, are leading many to undervalue the oatmeal, on which we trust our peasantry will long rely as their staple food, it is interesting to find that, on this point, science has at length come to the aid of reason and experience. Chemistry has already told us many remarkable things in regard to the vegetable food we eat--that it contains, for example, a certain per centage of the actual fat and lean we consume in our beef, or mutton, or pork--and, therefore, that he who lives upon vegetable food may be as strong as the man who lives upon animal food, because both in reality feed upon the same things in a somewhat different form. Now it appears, from analysis, that wheaten flour contains on an average not more than ten per cent of actual dry beef--of that which forms the living muscle of the animal that feeds upon it--with three per cent of fat, and fifty of starch. And because of this chemical composition, our southern neighbours think wheaten flour the most nourishing, the most refined, and the most civilized of all food.

But Professor Johnston, in the recent edition of his Elements,[28] tells us, that, from experiments made in the laboratory of the Agricultural Chemistry Association of Scotland, it turns out that oats are far richer in all the three things above named than the best wheat flour grown in any part of England--that they contain eighteen or twenty per cent of that which forms muscle, five to eight of fat, and sixty-five of starch. The account, therefore, between shelled oats (groats) and fine wheaten flour stands thus. One hundred pounds of each contain--

Wheat. Oats.
Muscular matter, 10 lbs. 18 lbs.
Fat, 3 ... 6 ...
Starch, 50 ... 65 ...
------ ------
63 lbs. 89 lbs.

What do you say to these numbers, Mr Cockney?--You won't pity us, Scotch oatmeal-eaters, any more, we guess. Experience and science are both on our side. What makes your race-horses the best in the world, may be expected to make our peasantry the best too. We offer you, therefore, a fair bet. You shall take ten English ploughmen, and feed them upon two pounds and a-half of wheaten flour a-day, and we shall take as many Scotch ploughmen, and feed them upon the same weight of oatmeal a-day--_if they can eat so much_, for that is doubtful--and we shall back our men against yours for any sum you like. They shall walk, run, work--or fight you, if you like it--and they shall thrash you to your heart's content. We should like to convince you that Scotch parritch has some real solid metal in it.

We back the oatcake and the porridge against all the wheaten messes in the world. We defy your homemade bread, your baker's bread, your household bread, your leaven bread, and your brown Georges--your fancy bread and your raisin bread--your baps, rolls, scones, muffins, crumpets, and cookies--your bricks, biscuits, bakes, and rusks--your Bath buns and your sally luns--your tea-cakes, and saffron-cakes, and slim-cakes, and plank-cakes, and pan-cakes, and soda-cakes, and currant-cakes, and sponge-cakes, and seed-cakes, and girdle-cakes, and singing-hinnies--your short-bread and your currant-buns--and if there by any other names by which you designate your wheaten abominations, we defy and detest them all. We swear by the oatcake and the porridge, the substantial bannock and the brose--long may Scotland produce them, and Scotchmen live and fight upon them!!

"The first great event in spring on a farm of mixed husbandry," says Mr Stephens, "is the calving of the cows." He then describes the symptoms, the preparations, and the treatment of the cow and the calf, the diseases to which they are respectively liable, and the treatment to which they ought to be subjected, in his usual clear, methodical, and remarkably complete manner. We have been struck with the kind tone which pervades the whole of this chapter, the gentle treatment he prescribes in all cases--indicating at once a practical acquaintance with the details of these operations, and a love also for the quiet and patient animals of which he is treating.

We should have quoted, had the passages not been too long, his description of the different modes adopted, apparently with equal profit, by the veal manufacturers for the London and Glasgow markets respectively. We should like to know the comparative profit of the French mode of feeding calves for the Paris market, _on cream and biscuits_. In his next edition, we hope Mr Stephens will instruct us upon this point also.

It is one of the merits of this book, and in our estimation a very high one, that method, order, and economy of time and labour are invariably recommended and insisted upon, in every process and at every season. But these points are especially insisted upon in his chapter _on the advantages of having field-work always in a forward state_. The following extract is long, but it contains such admirable advice, that we insert it for the sake of those who may never see the book itself, or have an opportunity of buying it.

After describing how every favourable day should be taken in preparing the land for wheat, beans, oats, potatoes, turnips, tares, or naked fallow, in their respective order, he continues:--

"And when every one of all these objects has been promoted, and there
is found little or nothing to do till the burst of spring-work comes,
both horses and men may enjoy a day's rest now and then, without
incurring the risk of throwing work back; but before such recreations
are indulged in, it should be ascertained that all the implements,
great and small, have been repaired for work--the plough-irons all
new laid--the harrow-tines new laid and sharpened, and fastened
firmly into the bulls of the harrows--the harness all tight and
strong--the sacks new patched and mended, that no seed-corn be spilt
upon the road--the seed-corn thrashed, measured up, and sacked, and
what is last wanted put into the granary--the horses new shod, that
no casting or breaking of a single shoe may throw a pair of horses
out of work for even one single hour--in short, to have every thing
prepared to start for work when the first notice of spring shall be
heralded in the sky.

"But suppose the contrary of all this to happen; suppose that the
plough-irons and harrow-tines have to be laid and sharpened, when
perhaps to-morrow they may be wanted in the field--a stack to be
thrashed for seed-corn or for horse's corn in the midst of the sowing
of a field--suppose, too, that only a week's work has been lost, in
winter, of a single pair of horses, and the consequence is, that six
acres of land have to be ploughed when they should be sown, that is,
a loss of a whole day of six pair of horses, or of two days of three
pair--suppose all these inconveniences to happen in the busy season,
and the provoking reflection occurs that the loss incurred now was
occasioned by trifling offputs in winter. Compare the value of these
trifles with the risk of finding you unprepared for sowing beans or
spring-wheat. Suppose, once more, that instead of having turnips in
store for the cattle, when the oat-seed is begun in the fields, and
that, instead of being able to prosecute that indispensable piece of
work without interruption, you are obliged to send away a portion of
the draughts to bring in turnips, which _must be brought in_, and
brought in, too, from hand to mouth, it being impossible, in the
circumstances, to store them. In short, suppose that the season of
incessant labour arrives and finds you unprepared to go along with
it,--and what are the consequences? Every creature about you, man,
woman, and beast, are then toiled beyond endurance every day, not to
_keep up_ work, which is a lightsome task, but to _make up_ work,
which is a toilsome task, but which you said you could easily do,
when you were idling your time in a season you consider of little
value; and, after all, this toil is bestowed in vain to obtain the
end you wish, namely, to prepare your crop _in due season_. You who
are inexperienced in the evils of procrastination may fancy this to
be an overdrawn picture--even an impossible case; but unfortunately
for that supposition, it is drawn from the life. I have seen every
incident occur which I have mentioned, both as to work being in a
forward and in a backward state."--(Vol. ii. pp. 489, 483.)

This one extract will alone illustrate the opinion we have already expressed, in regard to the soundness and safety of the advice on practical subjects, which our author ventures to give.

We pass over a hundred pages devoted to ploughing and sowing, and the selection of seed. On the last of which points our inclination would lead us to dwell--especially in reference to the steeping of seeds, a subject which at present engages so much attention, and upon which so much nonsense and mercantile puffing has been recently expended. But our limits restrain us.

Whether it is that our own predilections incline us more to those parts of his book, or that Mr Stephens writes these better--with heart and kindliness he certainly does write[29]--we scarcely know, but we certainly like all his chapter upon animals. _The lambing of ewes_ is the subject of chapter fifty-four.

In all lines of life there are the skilful and the unskilful, and the former are always the fewer in number. In reference to shepherds, Mr Stephens says:--

"No better proof need be adduced of the fewness of skilful shepherds,
than the loss which every breeder of sheep sustains every year,
especially in bad weather. I knew a shepherd who possessed unwearied
attention, but was deficient in skill, and being over-anxious, always
assisted the ewes in lambing before the proper time; and as he kept
the ewes in too high condition, the consequence was, that every year
he lost a number of both ewes and lambs; and in one season of bad
weather the loss amounted to the large number of twenty-six ewes, and
I forget of how many lambs, in a dock of only ten score of ewes. I
knew another shepherd who was far from being solicitous about his
charge, though certainly not careless of it, yet his skill was so
undoubted, that he chiefly depended upon it, and his success was so
eminent, that the loss of a ewe or lamb under his charge was matter
of surprise. Of these two shepherds--the attentive and the
skilful--it would appear that the skilful is the safer, and of course
the more valuable, though it must be owned, that it is better to
_prevent_ evils by skilful attention, than to _cure_ them by
attentive skill; yet it is only by the union of both these qualities
that a perfect shepherd can be formed."--(Vol. ii. p. 600.)

Perhaps some of our readers are acquainted with _Price on Sheep_, a book in which the treatment of the Leicester sheep is especially described. After commenting upon what this author says of the losses experienced in lambing-time by the southern breeders, Mr Stephens pays the following deserved compliment to the intelligent shepherds of Scotland:--

"I would not have noticed these egregious blunders, said by Mr Price
to be committed by shepherds in a low country like Romney Marsh, in
Kent, so prominently, had not Mr Youatt adopted the sentiments of Mr
Price in the very particulars quoted above, in his excellent treatise
on the history and diseases of sheep. Were a shepherd of a Leicester
flock in Scotland made aware that he was suspected of such ignorance
of the nature of sheep, he would be quite ashamed; and so would
shepherds even of the hill country, who cannot have so intimate a
knowledge of every individual of their flock, usually occupying a
wide range of mountain land, as their brethren of the profession
tending flocks within much more limited bounds."--(Vol. ii. p. 602.)

Among the more immediate symptoms of lambing, there are two which have struck us as very interesting. We have put them in italics in the following quotation:--

"The more immediate symptoms of lambing are when the ewe stretches
herself frequently; separating herself from her companions;
exhibiting restlessness by not remaining in one place for any length
of time; lying down and rising up again, as if dissatisfied with the
place; pawing the ground with a forefoot; _bleating as if in quest of
a lamb; and appearing fond of the lambs of other ewes_."--(Vol. ii.
p. 603.)

In regard to _pet_ lambs--such as are brought up by hand because their mothers have died, and it has been impossible to mother then upon other ewes--the following observation shows their innocent simplicity:--

"When the same person feeds the lambs, and this should be the
dairymaid, the lambs soon become attached to her, and would follow
her every where: but to prevent their bleating, and to make them
contented, an apron or a piece of cloth, hung on a stake or bush in
the paddock, will keep them together."--(Vol. ii. p. 611.)

After treating of the various risks which ewes and lambs are subject to, the final result for which a skilful shepherd should look, is thus stated:--

"He should not be satisfied with his exertions unless he has
preserved one-half the number of ewes with twin-lambs, nor should he
congratulate himself if he has lost a single ewe in lambing. I am
aware these results cannot always be commanded; but I believe an
attentive and skilful shepherd will not be satisfied for all his
toil, night and day, for three weeks, if he has not attained these
results. The ewes may have lambed twins to greater number than the
half, and yet many pairs may have been broken to supply the
deficiencies occasioned by the deaths of single lambs. * * * In
regard to Cheviots, it is considered a favourable result to rear a
lamb for each ewe; and with blackfaced ewes, eighteen lambs out of
the score of ewes is perhaps one as favourable. Cheviots yield a few
pairs, blackfaced very few. The former sometimes require assistance
in lambing, the latter seldom."--(Vol. ii. pp. 614, 615.)

An entire chapter is given to the _training and working of the shepherd's dog_. Like master like man, says the old adage--like shepherd like dog, says Mr Stephens:--

"The natural temper of the shepherd may be learned from the way in
which he works his dog among sheep. When you observe an aged dog
making a great noise, bustling about in an impatient manner, running
fiercely at a sheep and turning him quickly, biting at his ears and
legs, you may conclude, without hesitation, that the shepherd who
owns him is a man of hasty temper."--(Vol. ii. p. 625.)

But a well-trained dog has the following qualifications:--

"Dogs, when thus gently and cautiously trained, become very
sagacious, and will visit every part of a field where sheep are most
apt to stray, and where danger is most to be apprehended to befall
them, such as a weak part of a fence, deep ditches, or deep furrows
into which sheep may possibly fall and lie _awalt_ or _awkward_, that
is, lie on the broad of their back and unable to get up, and they
will assist to raise them up by seizing the wool at one side and
pulling the sheep over upon its feet. Experienced dogs will not
meddle with ewes having lambs at foot, nor with tups, being quite
aware of their disposition to offer resistance. They also know full
well when foxes are on the move, and give evident symptoms of
uneasiness on their approach to the lambing ground. They also hear
footsteps of strange persons and animals at a considerable distance
at night, and announce their approach by unequivocal signs of
displeasure, short of grumbling and barking, as if aware that those
noisy signs would betray their own presence. _A shepherd's dog is so
incorruptible that he cannot be bribed, and will not permit even a
known friend to touch him when entrusted with any piece of duty._
* * * It is supposed that the bitch is more acute than the dog,
though the dog will bear the greater fatigue. Of the two, I believe,
that the quietly disposed shepherd prefers a bitch, and is careful in
working her as little as he can when in pup. I may mention, that the
shepherd's dog claims exemption from taxation; and I believe that a
well-trained one costs at least L.3."--(Vol. ii. pp. 626, 627.)

Nothing is said of the mutual attachment of the shepherd and his dog. Of this attachment we can never help thinking--when the subject of dogs is introduced--since we saw the look of mingled agony and consternation which showed itself on the face of one of our shepherd boys, when a horse had kicked and apparently killed it, and the joy with which he hugged it, while it licked his hands and face as it recovered.

Nothing strikes an American so much on coming to England--kindred though he be, not only in blood and language, but also in customs--nothing at least strikes him more than the beautiful thorn hedges with which our fields are at once divided, sheltered and adorned. And yet how much they are mismanaged--their perfection, usefulness, and durability lessened--by injudicious, in many cases by ignorant and barbarous, treatment! A most useful chapter is devoted to this subject, from which we shall make one or two extracts. First, of switching young hedges:--

"Hedgers have a strong predilection to use the switching-bill. They
will, without compunction, switch a young hedge at the end of the
first year of its existence. No hedge ought to be touched with a
knife until it has attained at least two years; because the great
object to be attained by a new hedge is the enlargement of its roots,
that they may search about freely for its support; and the only way
it has of acquiring large roots is through its branches and leaves,
which are the chief means of supporting the healthy functions of
plants, or of even preserving them in life. Even beyond the age
mentioned above, the pruning-knife should be very sparingly used,
until the young hedge has acquired the height sufficient for a fence;
and not freely then, but only to remove superfluities of growth, and
preserve equality in the size of the plants.

* * * * *

Let the plant have peace to _grow_ till it has acquired a
considerable degree of natural strength--to acquire which state it
will take a longer or shorter time according to the circumstances in
which it is placed--acquiring it in the shortest time in deep sandy
loam, the most _useful_ of all soils, and taking the longest in poor
thin clay on a tilly subsoil--let it, I say, have peace to _grow_,
and let it be afterwards judiciously pruned, and I will give you the
assurance of experience, that you will possess an excellent fence and
a beautiful hedge in a much shorter time than the usual practice of
hedgers will warrant."--(Vol. ii p. 564.)

Upon cutting down hedges the following remarks are excellent:--

"Hedges are wofully mismanaged in the cutting in many parts of the
country. Without further consideration than saving the expense of a
paling to guard a new-cut-down hedge, or in ignorance of the method
of making a dead-hedge from the refuse of the old, the stems of an
_old_ hedge are often cut over about three and a half feet high, to
continue as a fence. The consequence is just what might be
anticipated from a knowledge of the habits of the thorn, namely, a
thick growth of young twigs where the hedge was cut over, the
ultimate effect of which is, a young hedge standing at three and a
half feet above the ground upon bare stakes. The wise plan,
therefore, to preserve the value of the old hedge is to cut it near
the ground, and form a dead-hedge of the part cut off."--(Vol. ii.
pp. 569, 570.)

We have seen hedges occasionally dying out by degrees on the road-sides, where the banks were cut close to the roots of the thorn plants. The following acute observation will in some cases, no doubt, account for it:--

"I observe that some farmers remove the hedge-bank behind a
thorn-hedge, to make compost of; but such a practice is highly
injurious to the hedge, even after it is grown up, by exposing its
roots, which chiefly lie under the bank, to cold and frost. If a
hedge is cut down whose bank has been treated in this manner, and no
means are used to protect the roots when exposed on the removal of
the branches, it is possible that a few nights of severe black frost
may kill every root that lies nearest the surface. I have no doubt
that particular plants of old hedges are killed in this manner,
without the cause being suspected by the farmer."--(Vol. ii. p. 576.)

The planting of potatoes, as we should expect in a practical work of this kind, is treated of in considerable detail and with much judgment. Upon seed-potatoes, which have these last two or three years attracted so much attention, we have the following passage:--

"I have no doubt, in my own mind, that were seed-potatoes securely
pitted until they were about to be planted,--not over-ripened before
they were taken out of the ground,--the sets cut from the crispest
tubers and from the waxy end,--the dung fermented by a turning of the
dunghill in proper time,--led out to the field, quickly spread, the
sets as quickly dropped on it, and the drills quickly split in the
manner represented in fig. 411, and described in (2411,) there would
be little heard of the failure even in the driest season,--at the
same time, the precaution of obtaining seed frequently from an
elevated and late district compared to where the seed is to be
planted, should not be neglected."--(Vol. iii. pp. 672, 673.)

These recommendations are correct, we believe, and judicious as far as they go; other things, however, are within the powers of the skilful farmer; but, to all, we would especially recommend a more careful construction of their potato-pits. This subject is again treated of in Vol. iii. p. 1121. The raising of seed-potatoes should be made more an object of special care than has hitherto been the case; for we doubt if the cure recently propounded as infallible on the faith of one or two successful experiments--that of leaving the potatoes covered up during winter in the field where they grew--will be in all cases followed by the wished-for results. We hope, however, that many will try it.

Of horses we could have wished to say something had our space permitted; but we can only refer to what is said of the rearing and intelligence of the horse towards the beginning of the second volume, and to the chapter on _breaking in young draught horses_, in p. 691 of the same volume.