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COTTAGE ECONOMY;

CONTAINING

INFORMATION RELATIVE TO THE BREWING OF BEER, MAKING OF BREAD,
KEEPING OF COWS, PIGS, BEES, EWES, GOATS, POULTRY, AND RABBITS,
AND RELATIVE TO OTHER MATTERS DEEMED USEFUL IN THE CONDUCT-
ING OF THE AFFAIRS OF A LABOURER'S FAMILY ; TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
INSTRUCTIONS RELATIVE TO THE SELECTING, THE CUTTING AND THE
BLEACHING OF THE PLANTS OF ENGLISH GRASS AND GRAIN, FOR THE
PURPOSE OP MAKING HATS AND BONNETS ; AND ALSO INSTRUCTIONS
FOR ERECTING AND USING ICE-HOUSES, AFTER THE VIRGINIAN MANNER.

TO WHICH IS ADDED

THE POOR MAN'S FRIEND;

OR,

A DEFENCE OF THE RIGHTS OF THOSE WHO DO THE WORK,
AND FIGHT THE BATTLES.

BY WILLIAM COBBETT.

NEW YORK :
PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOYLE, 12, LIBEJtTY-ST.

8TEESOT?PBt> £Y CONNER & COO^B.
1833.

PL

Lb

Entered according to act of Congressman the year of our Lord 1833.
ijyJ.ilm Doyle, in Office of the District Court of the

Southern Districl of New- York.

CONTENTS.

No.
I. — Introduction. To the Labouring Classes

of this Kingdom — Brewing Beer, - 5
II. — Brewing Beer, continued, --.;.-.- 23

III. — Making Bread, - 41

IV. — Making Bread, continued — Brewing

Beer — Keeping Cows, - - - - 59
V. — Keeping Cows, continued, — Keeping

Pigs, - - 73

VI. — Keeping Pigs, continued — Salting Mut-
ton, and Beef, ------- 86

VII. — Bees, Geese, Ducks, Turkeys, Fowls,
Pigeons, Rabbits, Goats, and Ewes,
Candles and Rushes, Mustard, Dress
and Household Goods, and Fuel,
Hops, and Yeast, ------ 98

VIII. — Selecting, Cutting and Bleaching the
Plants of English Grass and Grain,
for the purpose of making Hats and
Bonnets — Constructing and using
Ice-houses, -------- 122

Addition.— Mangel Wurzel — Cobbett's Corn, 151
Index, ..-.--- 158

COTTAGE ECONOMY.

No. I.
INTRODUCTION.

To the Labouring Classes of this Kingdom.

1. Throughout this little work, I shall number
the Paragraphs, in order to be able, at some stages of
the work, to refer, with the more facility, to parts that
have gone before. The last Number will contain an
Index, by the means of which the several matters may
be turned to without loss of time ; for, when economy
is the subject, time is a thing which ought by no means
to be overlooked.

2. The word Economy, like a great many others,
has, in its application, been very much abused. It is
generally used as if it meant parsimony, stinginess, or
niggardliness ; and, at best, merely the refraining from
expending money. Hence misers and close-fisted men
disguise their propensity and conduct under the name
of economy ; whereas the most liberal disposition, a
disposition precisely the contrary of that of the miser,
is perfectly consistent with economy.

3. Economy means management, and nothing
more ; and it is generally applied to the affairs of a
house and family, which affairs are an object of the
greatest importance, whether as relating to indivi-
duals or to a nation. A nation is made powerful and
to be honoured in the world, not so much by the num-
ber of its people as by the ability and character of that
people ; and the ability and character of a people de-
pend, in a great measure, upon the economy of the
several families, which, all taken together, make up
the nation. There never yet was, and never will be,

1*

G INTRODUCTION. [No.

a nation permanently great, consisting, for the greater
part, of wretched and miserable families.

4. In every view of the matter, therefore, it is de-
sirable, that the families of which a nation consists
should be happily off: and as this depends, in a great
degree, upon the management of their concerns, the
present work is intended to convey, to the families of
the labouring classes in particular, such information
as I think may be useful with regard to that manage-
ment.

5. I lay it down as a maxim, that for a family to be
happy, they mi ell supplied w'whfood and rai-
ment. It is a sorry effort that people make to persuade
others, or to persuade themselves, that they can be
happy in a state of want of the necessaries of life.
The doctrines which fanaticism preaches, and which

h men to be content, with poverty, have a very per-
nicious tendency, and are calculated to favour tyrants
by giving them passive slaves. To live well, to enjoy
all things that make life pleasant, is the right of every
man who constantly uses his strength judiciously and
lawfully. It is to blaspheme God to suppose, that he
created man to be miserable, to hunger, thirst, and
perish with cold, in the midst of that abundance
which is the fruit of their own labour. Instead, there-
fore, of applauding " happy poverty,"' which applause
is so much the fashion of the present day, I despise the
man that is poor and contented; for, such content is a
certain proof of a base disposition, a disposition which
is the enemy of all industry, all exertion, all love of
independence.

6\ Let it be understood, however, that, by poverty,
I mean real want, a real insufficiency of the food and
raiment and lodging necessary to health and decency ;
and not that imaginary poverty, of which some per-
sons complain. The man who, by his own and his
family's labour, can provide a sufficiency of food and
raiment, and a comfortable dwelling-place, is not a
poor wan. There must be different ranks and degrees
in every civil society, and, indeed, so it is even amongst
tbe savage tribes. There must be different degrees of

I.] INTRODUCTION. 7

wealth; some must have more than others ; and the
richest must be a great deal richer than the least rich.
But it is necessary to the very existence of a people,
that nine out of ten should live wholly by the sweat
of their brow; and. is it not degrading to human nature,
that all the nine-tenths should be called poor; and,
what is still worse, call themselves poor, and be con-
tented in that degraded state ?

7. The laws, the economy, or management, of a
state may be such, as to render it impossible for the
labourer, however skilful and industrious, to maintain
his family in health and decency ; and such has, for
many years past, been the management of the affairs
of this once truly great and happy land. A system
of paper-money, the effect of which was to take from
the labourer the half of his earnings, was what no
industry and care could make head against. I do not
pretend that this system was adopted by design. But,
no matter for the cause; such was the effect.

8. Better times, however, are approaching. The
labourer now appears likely to obtain that hire of
which he is worthy ; and, therefore, this appears to
me to be the time to press upon him the duty of using
his best exertions for the rearing of his family in a
manner that must give him the best security for hap-
piness to himself, his wife and children, and to make
him, in all respects, what his forefathers were. The
people of England have been famed, in all ages, for
their good living; for the abundance of their food
and goodness of their attire. The old sayings about
English roast beef and plum-pudding, and about Eng-
lish hospitality, had not their foundation in nothing.
And, in spite of all refinements of sickly minds, it is
abundant living amongst the people at large, which
is the great test of good government, and the surest
basis of national greatness and security.

9. If the labourer have his fair wages ; if there be
no false weights and measures, whether of money
or of goods, by which he is defrauded ; if the laws be
equal in their effect upon all men : if he be called
upon for no more than his due share of the expenses

8 INTRODUCTION. [No.

necessary to support the government and defend the
country, he has no reason to complain. If the large-
ness of his family demand extraordinary labour and
care, these are due from him to it. He is the cause
of the existence of that family; and, therefore, he is
not, except in cases of accidental calamity, to throw
upon others the burden of supporting it. Besides,
u little children are as arrows in the hands of the giant,
and blessed is the man that hath his quiver full of
them/' That is to say, children, if they bring their
cares, bring also their pleasures and solid advanta-
ges. They become, very soon, so many assistants
and props to the parents, who, when old age comes
on, are amply repaid for all the toils and all the cares
that children have occasioned in their infancy. To
be without sure and safe friends in the world makes
life not worth having ; and whom can we be so sure of
as of our children ? Brothers and sisters are a mutual
support. We see them, in almost every case, grow up
into prosperity, when they act the part that ^he im-
pulses of nature prescribe. When cordially united,
a father and sons, or a family of brothers and sisters,
may, in almost any state of life, set what is called
misfortune at defiance.

10. These considerations are much more than
enough to sweeten the toils and cares of parents, and to
make them regard every additional child as an addition-
al blessing. But, that children may be a blessing and
not a curse, care must be taken of their education.
This word has, of late years, been so perverted, so
corrupted, so abused, in its application, that I am al-
most afraid to use it here. Yet I must not surfer it to
be usurped by cant and tyranny. I must use it: but
not without clearly saying what I mean.

11. Education means breeding up, br;

or rearing up; and nothing more. This includes
every thinrr with regard to the mind as well as the
body of a child ; but, of late years, it has been so used
as to have no sense applied to it but that of book-learn-
ing, with which, nine times out of teu, it has nothing
at all to do. It is, indeed, proper, and it is the duty

L] INTRODUCTION. 9

of all parents, to teach, or cause to be taught, their
children as much as they can of books, after, and not
before, all the measures are safely taken for enabling
them to get their living by labour, or for providing
them a living without labour, and that, too, out of the
means obtained and secured by the parents out of their
own income. The taste of the times is, unhappily, to
give to children something of book-learning, with a
view of placing them to live, in some way or other,
upon the labour of other people. Very seldom, com-
paratively speaking, has this succeeded, even during
the wasteful public expenditure of the last thirty years ;
and, in the times that are approaching, it cannot, I
thank God, succeed at all. When the project has
failed, what disappointment, mortification and misery,
to both parent and child ! The latter is spoiled as a
labourer : his book-learning has only made him con-
ceited : into some course of desperation he falls ; and
the end is but too often not only wretched but ignomi-
nious.

12. Understand me clearly here, however ; for it is
the duty of parents to give, if they be able, book-learn-
ing to their children, having first taken care to make
them capable of earning their living by bodily labour.
When that object has once been secured, the other
may, if the ability remain, be attended to. But I am
wholly against children wasting their time in the idle-
ness of what is called education ; and particularly in
schools over which the parents have no control, and
where nothing is taught but the rudiments of servility,
pauperism and slavery.

13. The education that I have in view is, there-
fore, of a very different kind. You should bear con-
stantly in mind, that nine-tenths of us are, from the
very nature and necessities of the world, born to gain
our livelihood by the sweat of our brow. What rea-
son have we, then, to presume, that our children are

knot to do the same ? If they be, as now and then
one will be, endued with extraordinary powers of mind,
those powers may have an opportunity of developing
themselves ; and if they never have that opportunity,

10 INTRODUCTION. [No.

the harm is not very great to us or to them. Nor does it
hence follow that the descendants of labourers are
always to be labourers. The path upwards is steep
and long, to be sure. Industry, care, skill, excellence,
in the present parent, lay the foundation of a rise,
under more favourable circumstances, for his children.
The children of these take another rise ; and, by-and-
: id ants of the present labourer become
gentlemen.

11. This is the natural progress. It is by attempt-
tin^ to reach tbe I leap that so much
misery is produced in the world ; and the propensity
to make si las been cherished and encou-
ge projects that we have witnessed
of late yean fdf making the labourers virtuous and
/'// by giving them what is called education.
The education which I speak of consists in bringing
children up to labour with steadiness, with care, and
with skill ; to show them how to do as many useful
things as possible ; to teach them to do them all in
the best manner; to set them an example in industry,
sobriety, cleanliness, and neatness ; to make all these
habihuu to them, so that they never shall be liable to
fall into the contrarv ; to let them always see a good
living proceeding from labour, and thus to remove
from them the temptation to get at the goods of others by
violent or fraudulent means, and to keep far from their
minds all the inducements to hypocrisy and deceit.

15. A nd, bear in mind, that if the state of the labourer
has its disadvantages when compared with other call-
ings and conditions of life, it has also its advantages. It
is Tree from the torments of ambition, and from a great
part of the causes of ill-health, for which not all the
riches in the world and all the circums: higb
rank are a compensation. The able and prudent labourer
is always safe, at the least ; and that is what few men
are who are lifted above him. Thev have losses and
crosses to fear, the very thought of which never enters
his mind, if he act well his part towards himself, his
family and his neighbour.

16. But, the basis of good to him, is steady and

1J INTRODUCTION. \l

skilful labour. To assist him in the pursuit of this
labour, and in the turning of it to the best account, are
the principal objects of the present little work. I pro-
pose to treat of brewing Beer, making Bread, keeping
Cows and Pigs, rearing Poultry, and of other matters ;
and to show, that, while, from a very small piece of
ground a large part of the food of a considerable fami-
ly may be raised, the very act of raising it will be the
best possible foundation of education of the children
of the labourer ; that it will teach them a great number
of useful things, add greatly to their value when they
go forth from their father's home, make them start
in life with all possible advantages, and give them the
best chance of leading happy lives. And is it not much
more rational for parents to be employed in teaching
their children how to cultivate a garden, to feed and rear
animals, to make bread, beer, bacon, butter and cheese,
and to be able to do these things for themselves, or for
others, than to leave them to prowl about the lanes and
commons, or to mope at the heels of some crafty, sleek-
headed pretended saint, who while he extracts the
last penny from their pockets, bids them be contented
with their misery, and promises them, in exchange
for their pence, everlasting glory in the world to come ?
It is upon the hungry and the wretched that the fana-
tic works. The dejected and forlorn are his prey.
As an ailing carcass engenders vermin, a pauperized
community engenders teachers of fanaticism, the very
foundation of whose doctrines is, that we are to care
nothing about this world, and that all our labours and
exertions are in vain.

. 17. The man, who is doing well, who is in good
^ealth, who has a blooming and dutiful and cheerful
and happy family about him, and who passes his day
pf rest amongst them, is not to be made to believe,
that he was born to be miserable, and that poverty,
the natural and just reward of laziness, is to secure
him a crown of glory. Far be it from me to recom-
mend a disregard of even outward observances as to
matters of religion ; but, can it be religion to believe
that God hath made us to be wretched and dejected ?

12 INTRODUCTION. [\o.

Can it be religion to regard, as marks of his grace,
the poverty and misery that almost invariably attend
our neglect to use the means of obtaining a competence
in worldly things .; Can it bo religion to regard as
blessings those things, those very things, which God
expressly numbers amongst his curses? Pov

ngst the blessings promisedM
His Dies- of a directly op]

corn, wine and oil ; a smiling
land ; abundance for the body andj

Iness of the heart : these are the blessings which

God i industrious, the sober, the careful,

and the npright Let do man, then, believe that, to

be poor to I's favour; an<U

lei DO man remain in tfa by any honest

If from it.

ads to all sorts of evil consequences.

/.horrid arent of crime. To

i a dutiful family, the father's principle of rule
must be love nol / :e, on

he will have only an unwilling and short-lived obedi-1
ence. But it 1 i but few men to be gentle and!

good-hum lidsl the various torments attendant]

on pinching poverty. A competence is, therefore, the]
2 to be thought of; it is the foundation of all
good in tne labourer's dwelling; without it little but]
misery can be expected. " Health, peace, and compe-l
tence" one of the wisest of men regards as the only j
things needful to man : but the two former are scarcely!
to be had without the latter. Competence is the!
foundation of happiness and of exertion. B
wants, having a mind continually harassed with fears
of starvation, who can act with energy, who can]
calmly think ? To provide a goo therefore,!

for himself and family, is the very first duly of every
man. " Two things," says Agor, " have I asked ;
deny me them not before I die: remove far from me
vanity and lies ; give me neither poverty nor riches ;
feed me with food convenient for me : lest I be full
and deny thee ; or lest I be poor and steal."

19. A good living therefore, a competence, is th*

I.] BREWING. 13

first thing to be desired and to be sought after ; and, if
this little work should have the effect of aiding only
a small portion of the Labouring Classes in securing
that competence, it will afford great gratification to
their friend Wm. COBBETT.

Kensington. Vdth July, 1821.

BREWING BEER.

20. Before I proceed to give any directions about
brewing, let ine mention some of the inducements to
do the thing. In former times, to set about to show
to- Englishmen that it was good for them to brew beer
in their houses would have been as impertinent as
gravely to insist, that they ought to endeavour not to
lose their breath ; for, in those times, (only forty years
ago,) to have a house and not to brew was a rare
thing indeed. Mr. Ellman, an oldNman and a large
farmer, in Sussex, has recently given in evidence, be-
fore a Committee of the House of Commons, this fact ;
that, forty years ago, there was not a labourer in his
parish that did not brew his own beer ; and that now
there is not one that does it, except by chance the
malt be given him. The causes of this change have
been the lowering of the wages of labour, compared
with the price of provisions, by the means of the paper-
money ; the enormous tax upon the barley when made
into malt ; and the increased tax upon hops. These
have quite changed the customs of the English people
as to their drink. They still drink beer, bur, in gene-
ral, it is of the brewing of common brewers, and in
public-houses, of which the common brewers have be-
come the owners, and have thus, by the aid of paper-
money, obtained a monopoly in the supplying of the
great body of the people with one of those things
which, to the hard-working man, is almost a necessary
of life.

21. These things will be altered. They must be
altered. The nation must be sunk into nothingness,

2

14 BREWING. [NO.

or a new system must be adopted ; and the nation will
not sink into nothingness. The malt now pays a tax
of 48. 6d* a bushel, and the barley costs only 3$.
This brings the bushel of malt to Hs. including the
maltster's charge for malting. If the tax were taken
off tin* malt, malt would be sold, at the present price
of barley, for about 3s. 3d. a bushel ; because a bushel
of barley makes more than a bushel of malt, and the
tax, besides its amount, causes great expenses of
rious sorts to the malt- hops pay a tax of

2c/. f a pouud ; and a bushel of malt requires, in ge-
neral, a pound of hops ; if these tw re taken
off, therefore, the consumption of barky and of hops
would be jly increased ; for double the pre-
sent quantity would b> d, and the land is
always ready to send it forth.

22. It appears impossible that the landlords should
much longer submit to these intolerable burdens on
their estates. In short, t _;et off the malt tax,
or lose those estates. They must do a great deal
more, indeed ; but that they must do at any rate. The
paper-money is fast losi*, . er ; and
things are. with regard to the labourers, coming back
to what they were forty ", and therefore we
may prepare for the making of beer in our own houses,
and take leave of the poisonous stuff served out to us
by common brewers. We may begin i ly ;
for, even at present prices, home-brewed beer is the
cheapest drink that a family can use, except milk, and
milk can be applicable only in certain cases.

23. The drink which has come to supply the place
of beer has, in general, been tea. It is notorious that
tea has no useful strength in it ; that it contains
nothing nutritious; that it, besides being good for
nothing, has badness in it, because it is well known
to produce want of sleep in many cases, and in all
cases, to shake and weaken the nerves. It is, in fact,
a weaker kind of laudanum, which enlivens for the
moment and deadens afterwards. At any rate it com-

' 4s. 6d. English, equal to one dollar.
T 2d. English, equal to four cents, nearly.

I.*| BREWING. 15

municates no strength to the body ; it does not, in any
degree, assist in affording what labour demands. It
is, then, of no use. And, now, as to its cost, compared
with that of beer. I shall make my comparison ap-
plicable to a year, or three hundred and sixty-five days.
I shall suppose the tea to be only five shillings the
pound ; the sugar only sevenpence ; the milk only two-
pence a quart. The prices are at the very lowest. I
shall suppose a tea-pot to cost a shilling, six cups and
saucers two shillings and sixpence, and six pewter
spoons eighteen-pence. How to estimate the firing
I hardly know; but certainly there must be in the
course of the year, two hundred fires made that would
not be made, were it not for tea drinking. Then
comes the great article of all, the time employed in
this tea-making affair. It is impossible to make a fire,
boil water, make the tea, drink it, wash up the things,
sweep up the fire-place, and put all to rights again, in
a less space of time, upon an average, than two hours.
However, let us allow one hour; and here we have a
woman occupied no less than three hundred and sixty-
five hours in the year, or thirty whole days, at twelve
hours in the day; that is to say, one month out of the
twelve in the year, besides the waste of the man's time
in hanging about waiting for the tea ! Needs there
any thing more to make us cease to wonder at seeing
labourers' children with dirty linen and holes in the
heels of their stockings ? Observe, too, that the time
thus spent is, one half of it, the best time of the day.
It is the top of the morning, which, in every calling
of life, contains an hour worth two or three hours of
the afternoon. By the time that the clattering tea
tackle is out of the way, the morning is spoiled ; its
prime is gone ; and any work that is to be done after-
wards lags heavily along. If the mother have to go
out to work, the tea affair must ail first be over. She
comes into the field, in summer time, when the sun
has gone a third part of his course. She has the heat
of the day to encounter, instead of having her work
done and being ready to return home at any early
hour. Yet early she must go, too : for, there is the

16 BREWING. [NO.

fire again to be made, the clattering tea-tackle again
to come forward ; and even in the longest day she
must have candle light, which never ought to be seen
in a cottage (except in case of illness) from March to
September.

24. Now, then, let us take the bare cost of the use
of tea. I suppose a pound of tea to last twenty days ;
which is not nearly half an ounce every morning and
evening. I allow for each mess half a pint of milk.
And I allow three pounds of the red dirty sugar to
each pound of tea. The account of expenditure
would then stand very high ; but to these must be
added the amount of the tea tackle, one set of which
will, upon an . be demolished every year.

To these outgoing added the cost of beer

at the public-house ; for some the man will have,
after all, and the woman too, unless they be upon
the point of actual starvation. Two pots a week is
as little as will serve in this way ; and here is a dead
loss of ninepence a wreek, seeing that two pots of
beer, full as strong, and a great deal better, can be
brewed at home for threepence. The account of the
year's tea drinking will then stand thus :

/,

s. d.

181b. of tea

4

10 0

541b. of sugar

1

11 6

365 pints of milk

1

10 0

Tea tackle

0

5 0

200 fires

0

16 8

30 days' work

0

15 0

Loss by going to public-house

1

19 0

L.\\ 7 2*

25. I have here estimated every thing at its very
lowest. The entertainment which I have here pro-
vided is as poor, as mean, as miserable as any thing
short of starvation can set forth ; and yet the wretch-
ed thing amounts to a good third part of a good and
able labourer's wages ! For this money, he and his

• The above items may be converted into United States' money by
reckoning 4s 6d to tho dollar: Thus As U. W. : 1 dollar: : \U. It. 2d. :
50 dollars 48 cents.

I.] BREWING. 17

family may drink good and wholesome beer ; in a
short time, out of the mere savings from this waste,
may drink it out of silver cups and tankards. In a
labourer's family, wholesome beer, that has a little
life in it, is all that is wanted in general. Little
children, that do not work, should not have beer.
Broth, porridge, or something in that way, is the
thing for them. Hdwever, I shall suppose, in order
to make my comparison as little complicated as pos-
sible, that he brews nothing but beer as strong as
the generality of beer to be had at the public-house,
and divested of the poisonous drugs which that beer
but too often contains ; and I shall further suppose
that he uses in his family two quarts of this beer
every day from the first of October to the last day of
March inclusive : three quarts a day during the
months of April and May ; four quarts a day during
the months of June and September ; and five quarts
a day during the months of July and August ; and
if this be not enough, it must be a family of drunk-
ards. Here are 1097 quarts, or 274 gallons. Now,
a bushel of malt will make eighteen gallons of bet-
ter beer than that which is sold at the public-houses.
And this is precisely a gallon for the price of a quart.
People should bear in mind, that the beer bought at
the public-house is loaded with a beer tax, with the
tax on the public-house keeper, in the shape of
license, with all the taxes and expenses of the brew-
er, with all the taxes, rent, and other expenses of the
publican, and with all the profits of both brewer and
publican ; so that when a map swallows a pot of
beer at a public-house, he has all these expenses to
help to defray, besides the mere tax on the malt and
on the hops.

26. Well, then, to brew this ample supply of good
beer for a labourer's family, these 274 gallons, re-
quires fifteen bushels of malt and (for let us do the
thing well) fifteen, pounds of hops. The malt is now
eight shillings a bushel, and very good hops may be
bought for less than a shilling a pound. The grains
and yeast will amply pay for the labour and fuel
2*

18 BREW [No.

employed in the brewing ; seeing that there will be
pigs to eat the grains, and bread to be baked with
the yeast. The account will then stand thus :

h. s. d.
15 bushels of malt . 6 0 0

15 pounds of hops . 0 15 0

Wear of utensils 0 10 0

L.l 5 0

27. Here, then, is the sum of four pounds two shil-
lings and twopence saved every year. The utensils
for bl e, a brass kettle, a mashing tub, cool-
ers, (Tor which trashing tubs may serve,) a half
hogsnead, with one end taken out, for a tun tub,
about four nine-gallon casks, and a couple of eigh-
teen-gallon casks. This is an ample supply of
utensils, each of which will la>t, with proper care,
a good long lifetime or two, and the whole of which,
even if purchased new from the shop, will only ex-
ceed by a few shillings, if they exceed at all, the
amount of the saving, arisii rst year,
from (pitting the troublesome and pernicious prac-
tice of drinking tea. The saving of each succeed-

\ ear would, if you chose it, purchase a silver
: to hold half a pint at least. However, the sa-
ving would naturally he applied to purposes more
conducive to the well-being and happiness of a
family.

28. It is not, however, the were saving to which
I look. This is, indeed, a matter of great import-

. whether we look at the amount itself, or at
the ultimate consequences of a judicious application
of it ; for four pounds make a great hole in a maj

is for the year; an I e consider all the

< s that would arise to a family of children
from having these four pounds, now so miserably
wasted, laid out upon their backs, in the shape of a de-
cent dress, it is impossible to look at this waste with-
out feelings of sorrow not wholly unmixed with
those of a harsher description.

• To convert these suras into United States' money, see page 16.

I.] BREWING. 19

29. But, I look upon the thing in a still more seri-
ous light. I view the tea drinking as a destroyer of
health, an enfeebler of the frame, an engenderer of
effeminacy and laziness, a debaucher of youth, and
a maker of misery for old age. In the fifteen bushels
of malt there are 570 pounds weight of sweet ; that
is to say, of nutricious matter, unmixed with any
thing injurious to health. In the 730 tea messes of
the year there are 54 pounds of sweet in the sugar,
and about 30 pounds of matter equal to sugar in the
milk. Here are 84 pounds instead of 570, and even
the good effect of these 84 pounds is more than over-
balanced by the corrosive, gnawing and poisonous
powers of the tea.

30. It is impossible for any one to deny the truth
of this statement. Put it to the test with a lean
hog : give him the fifteen bushels of malt, and he
will repay you in ten score of bacon or thereabouts.
But give him the 730 tea messes, or rather begin to
give them to him, and give him nothing else, and he
is dead with hunger, and bequeaths you his skeleton,
at the end of about seven days. It is impossible to
doubt in such a case. The tea drinking has done a
great deal in bringing this nation into the state of
misery in which it now is ; and the tea drinking,
which is carried on by " dribs" and " drabs ;" by
pence and farthings going out at a time ; this, mise-
rable practice has been gradually introduced by the
growing weight of the taxes on malt and on hops,
and by the everlasting penury amongst the labourers,
occasioned by the paper-money.

31. We see better prospects however, and there-
fore let us now rouse ourselves, and shake from us
the degrading curse, the effects of which have been
much more extensive and infinitely more mischiev-
ous than men in general seem to imagine.

32. It must be evident to every one, that the prac-
tice of tea drinking must render the frame feeble and
unfit to encounter hard labour or severe weather,
while, as I have shown, it deducts from the means
of replenishing the belly and covering the back.

20 PRDWING. [Xo.

Hence succeeds a softness, an effeminacy, a seeking
for the fire-side, a lurking in the bed, and, in short,
all the characteristics of idleness, for which, in this

real want of strength furnishes an ap
The* tea drinking fills the public-house, mak'
frequenting of it habitual, corrupts bovs a^ soon as
they are able to move from home, and does little less
for the girls, to whom the gossip of the
no bad preparatory school for the brothel. At the
very least,* it teaches them idleness. The everlast-
001 with the slops of the tea tackle,
gives them a relish for nothing that requires stn

•uvity. When they go from home, they know
how to do nothing that is useful. To brew, to bake,
to make butter, to milk, to rear poultry ; to do any
earthly thing of use they are wholly unqualified.

up in manufactories
is bad enough ; hut there, at any rate, they do
thing that is useful; whereas, the girl that has been

it up merely to boil the tea-kettle, and t<
in the goss able from the practice, is a mere

consumer of food, a pest to her employer, and a
curse to her husband, if any man be so unfortunate
as to fix his affections upon her.

But is it in the power o( any man. any good
labourer, who has attained the asre of fifty, to look
back upon the last thirty years of his life, without
cutsin in which tea was introduced into

tere is there such a man, who can-
not trace to this cause a very considerable part of all
the mortifications and sufferings of his life .? AVhen
was he ever too late at his labour ; when did he ever
meet with a frown, with a turning off, and pauper-
ism on that account, without being able to trace it to
the tea-kettle? When reproached with lagging in
the morning, the poor wretch tells you that he
make up for it by working during his bri

I have heard this a hundred and a hundred
times over. He was up time enough ; but the tea-
kettle kept him lolling and lounging at home ; and
now, instead of sitting down to a breakfast upon

I.] BREWING. 21

bread, bacon, and beer, which is to carry him on to
the hour of dinner, he has to force his limbs along
under the sweat of feebleness, and at dinner time
to swallow his dry bread, or slake his half-feverish
thirst at the pump or the brook. To the wretched
tea-kettle he has to return at night, with legs hardly
sufficient to maintain him; and thus he makes his
miserable progress towards that death, which he finds
ten or fifteen years sooner than he would have found
it had he made his wife brew beer instead of making
tea. If he now and then gladdens his heart with the
drugs of the public house, some quarrel, some acci-
dent, some illness, is the probable consequence; to the
affray abroad succeeds an affray at home ; the mischiev-
ous example reaches the children, corrupts them or
scatters them, and misery for life is the consequence.

34. I should now proceed to the details of brew-
ing; but these, though they will not occupy a large
space, must be put off to the second number. The
custom of brewing at home has so long ceased
amongst labourers, and, in many cases, amongst
tradesmen, that it was necessary for me fully to state
my reasons for wishing to see the custom revived.
I shall, in my next, clearly explain how the operation
is performed ; and it will be found to be so easy a
thing, that I am not without hope, that many trades-
men, who now spend their evenings at the public
house, amidst tobacco smoke and empty noise, may
be induced, by the finding of better drink at home,
at a quarter part of the price, to perceive that home
is by far the pleasantest place wherein to pass their
hours of relaxation.

35. My work is intended chiefly for the benefit of
cottagers, who must, of course, have some land; for,
I purpose to show, that a large part of the food of even
a large family may be raised, without any diminution
of the labourer's earnings abroad, from forty rod, or a
quarter of an acre, of ground ; l)ut at the same time,
what I have to say will be applicable to larger estab-
lishments, in all the branches of domestic economy :
and especially to that of providing a family with beer.

22 BREWING. fNo.

36. The kind of beer, for a labourer's family, that
is to say, the degree of strength, must depend i
cumstances ; on the numerousness of the family ; on
the season of the year, and various other tl
generally speaking, beer half the strength of TOat men-
tioned in paragraph 25 will be quite strong enough;
for that is at least, one-third stronger thai

house "small beer," which, however, as long I
fence has proved, is best suited to the purpose. Aju-
ld probably always have some
bis house, and have small beer for the general
drink. There is no reason why he should not keep
Christmas u wv]] as the farmer; and when he is
£\ or is at any other hard work, a
quart, or three pints, of realty good fat ale a-day is
by no means too much. However, circumstance
so much with different labourers, that as to the sort of
beer, and the number of I and the times of

no general rule can be laid down.

37. Before I proceed to explain the uses of the se-
veral brewing utensils, I must speak of the quality of
the materials of which beer is made ; that is to say,
the malt, hops, and water. Malt varies very much
in quality, as indeed, it must, with the quality of the
barley. When good, it is full of flour, and in biting
a grain asunder, you find it biti and see the

hin and filled up-well with Hour. If it bite hard
ami steely, the malt is bad. There is pale malt and
broirn malt ; but the difference in the two arises
merely from the different degrees of heat employed
in the drying. The main thing to attend to is. the
quantity of flour. If the barley was bad; th

whether from unripeness or blight, or any other
it will not malt so well ; that is to say. it will
od out its roots in due time; and a part of it
will still be barley. Then, the world is wicked enough
to think, and even to say, that there are maltsters who,
when they send you a bushel of malt, put a little bar-
ley amongst if, the malt being taxed and the barley
not ! Let us hope that this is seldom the case
when we do know that this terrible system of taxation

II.] BREWING. 23

induces the beer-selling gentry to supply their custom-
ers with stuff little better than poison, it is not very
uncharitable to suppose it possible for some maltsters
to yield to the temptations of the devil so far as to
play the trick above mentioned. To detect this trick,
and to discover what portion of the barley is in an
unmalted state, take a handful of the unground malt,
and put it into a bowl of cold water. Mix it about
with the water a little ; that is, let every grain be just
wet all over ; and whatever part of them sink are not
good. If you have your malt ground, there is not, as
I know of,- any means of detection. Therefore, if your
brewing be considerable in amount, grind your own
mult, the means of doing which is very easy, and nei-
ther expensive nor troublesome, as will appear, when
I come to speak of flour. If the barley be well malted,
there is still a variety in the quality of the malt ; that
is to say, a bushel of malt from fine, plump, heavy
barley, will be better than the same quantity from thin
and light barley. In this case, as in the case of wheat,
the weight is the criterion of the quality. Only bear
in mind, that as a bushel of wheat, weighing sixty-
two pounds, is better worth six shillings, than a bushel
weighing fifty-two is worth four shillings, so a bushel
of malt weighing forty-five pounds is better worth
nine shillings, than a bushel weighing thirty-five is
worth six shillings. In malt, therefore, as in every
thing else, the word cheap is a deception, unless the
quality be taken into view. But, bear in mind, that
in the case of unmalted barley, mixed with the malt,
the weight can be no rule ; for barley is heavier than
malt.

No. II.

brewing beer — (continued.)

38. As to using barley in the making of beer, I have
given it a full and fair trial twice over, and I would
recommend it to neither rich nor poor. The barley
produces strength, though nothing like the malt ; but

24 BREWING. [NO.

the beer is flat, even though you use half rnalt and
half barley ; and flat beer lies heavy on the stomach,
and of course, besides the bad taste, is unwholesome.
To pay 4s. 6d. tax upon every bushel of our own bar-
ley, turned into malt, when the barley itself is not
worth 3s. a bushel, is a horrid thing ; but, as long as
the owners of the land shall be so dastardly as to suf-
fer themselves to be thus deprived of the use of their
esta rivers and plunderers of

the East and West Indies, we must submit to the
thing, incomprehensible to foreigners, and even to our-
es. as the submission may be.
39. With regard to hops, the quality is very various.
At times when some seli for .*>.•. a pound, others
for sixpence. Provided the purchaser understand the
article, the quality is, of course, in proportion to thp
price. There are two things to be considered in hops:
th« r beeT) and that of giving it a

plea >ur. Hops may be strong, and yet not

good. 1 hey should be bright, have no leaves or bits
of bram ■: ,-t them. The hop is the husk, or

seed-pod, of the hop-vine, as the cone is that of the
fir-tree; and the seeds themselves are deposited, like
those of the tir, round a little soft stalk, enveloped by
the several folds of this pod, or cone. If, in the gath-
erii of the vine or bits of the branches are

mixed with the hops, these not only help to make up
the weight, but they give a bad taste to the beer;
and indeed, if they abound much, they spoil the beer.
Great attention is therefore necessary in this respect.
There are, too, numerous sorts of hops, varying in
size, fonn, and quality, quite as much as apples. How-
ever, when they are in a state to be used in brewing,
the marks of goodness are an absence of brown colour,
(for that indicates perished hops ;) a colour between
green and yi 'low ; a great quantity of the yellow J a-
rina; seeds not too large nor too hard ; a clammy
feel when rubbed between the fingers ; and a lively,
pleasant smell. As to the age of hops, they retain for
twenty years, probably, their power of preserving
beer; but not of giving it a pleasant flavour. I have

II.] BREWING. 25

used them at ten years old, and should have no fear of
using them at twenty. They lose none of their bit-
terness ; none of their power of preserving beer ; but
they lose the other quality ; and therefore, in the mak-
ing of fine ale, or beer, new hops are to be preferred..
As to the quantity of hops, it is clear, from what has
been said, that that must, in some degree depend upon
their quality ; but, supposing them to be good in qual-
ity, a pound of hops to a bushel of malt is about the
quantity. A good deal, however, depends upon the
length of time that the beer is intended to be kept, and
upon the season of the year in which it is brewed.
Beer intended to be kept a long while should have the
full pound, also beer brewed in warmer weather,
though for present use : half the quantity may do un-
der an opposite state of circumstances.

40. The water should be soft by all means. That
of brooks, or rivers, is best. That of a pond, fed by
a rivulet, or spring, will do very well. Rain-water,
if just fallen, may do ; but stale rain-water, or stag-
nant pond water, makes the beer flat and difficult to
keep ; and hard water, from wells, is very bad ; it does
not get the sweetness out of the malt, nor the bitter-
ness out of the hops, like soft water; and the wort of
it does not ferment well, which is a certain proof of
its unfitness for the purpose.

41. There are two descriptions of persons whom I
am desirous to see brewing their own beer ; namely,
tradesmen, and labourers and journeymen. There
must, therefore, be two distinct scales treated of. In
the former editions of this work, I spoke of a machine
for brewing, and stated the advantages of using it in a
family of any considerable consumption of beer ; but,
while, from my desire to promote private brewing,
I strongly recommended the machine, I stated that,
" if any of my readers could point out any method by
which we should be more likely to restore the practice
of private brewing, and especially to the cottage, I
should be greatly obliged to them to communicate it
to me." Such communications have been made, and
I am very happy to be able, in this new edition of my

3

26 BREWING. [Xo.

little work, to avail myself of them. There was, in
the Patent Machine, always, an objection on account
of the expense; for, even the machine for one bushel
of malt cost, at the reduced price, eight pounds ; a
sum far above the reach of a cottager, and even above
that of a small tradesman. Its convenience, especially
in towns, where room it so valuable, was an object
of great importance; but there were d >ges

attending it which, until after some experience, I
did not ascertain. It will be remembered that the
method by the brewing machine requires the malt to
be put into the cold water, and for the water to make
the malt swim, or, at least, to be in such proportion as
to prevent the tire beneath from burning the malt. We
found that our beer was Jlat, and that it did not keep.
And this arose, I have every reason to believe, from
this process. The malt should be put into hot water,
and the water, at first, should be but just sufficient in
quantity to stir the wait in, and separate it well.
Nevertheless, when it is merely to make small beer;
beer not wanted to keep; in such cases the brewing
machine may be of use ; and, as will be seen by-and-
by, a moveable boiler (which has nothing to do with
the patent) may, in many cases, be of great conveni-
ence and utility.

42. The two scales of which I hare spoken above,
are now to be spoken of; and, that I may explain my
meaning the more clearly, I shall suppose, that, for
the tradesman's family, it will be requisite to brew
eighteen gallons of ale and thirty-six of small beer,
to fill three casks of eighteen gallons each. It will be
observed, of course, that, for larger quantities, larger
utensils of all sorts will be wanted. I take this quan-
tity as the one to give directions on. The utensils
wanted here will be, First, a copper that will contain
forty gallons, at least ; for, though there be to be but
thirty-six gallons of small beer, there must be space
tor the hops, and for the liquor that goes off ^n steam.
Second, a nmshing-tub to contain sixty gallons;
for the malt is to be in .this along with the water.
Third, an underbuck, or shallow tub to go under the

II.] BREWING. 27

mash-tub, for the wort to run into when drawn from
the grains. Fourth, a tun-tub, that will contain
thirty gallons, to put the ale into to work, the mash-
tub, as we shall see, serving as a tun-tub for the small
beer. Besides these, a couple of coolers, shallow tubs,
which may be the heads of wine buts, or some such
things, about a foot deep ; or if you have four it may
be as well, in order to effect the cooling more quickly.
43. You begin by filling the copper with water, and
next by making the water boil. You then put into the
mashing-tub water sufficient to stir and separate the
malt in. But now let me say more particularly what
this mashing-tub is. It is, you know, to contain sixty
gallons. It is to be a little broader at top than at "bot-
tom, and not quite so deep as it is wide across the
bottom. Into the middle of the bottom there is a
hole about two inches over, to draw • the wort off
through. In this hole goes a stick, a foot or two
longer than the tub is high. This stick is to be about
two inches through, and tapered for about eight inches
upwards at the end that goes into the hole, which at
last it fills up closely as a cork. Upon the hole, be-
fore any thing else be put into the tub, you lay a little
bundle of fine birch, (heath or straw may do,) about
half the bulk of a birch broom, and well tied at both
ends. This being laid over the hole (to keep back the
grains as the wort goes out,) you put the tapered end
of the stick down through into the hole, and thus cork
the hole up. You must then have something of
weight sufficient to keep the birch steady at the bot-
tom of the tub, with a hole through it to slip down the
stick ; otherwise when the stick is raised it will be apt
to raise the birch with it, and when you are stirring
the mash you would move it from its place. The
best thing for this purpose will be a leaden collar for
the stick, with the hole in the collar plenty large
enough, and it should weigh three or four pounds.
The thing they use in some farm-houses is the iron box
of a wheel. Any thing will do that will slide down
the stick, and lie with weight enough on the birch
to keep it from moving. Now, then, you are ready

28 BREWING. [NO.

_in brewing. I allow two bushels of malt forth*
brewing 1 have supposed. You must now put into
the mashing-tub as much boiling wrater as will be suf-
ficient to stir the malt in and • But
of tin' nicest points of all ; namely,
<>f heat that the water is to be at, before
you put in toe malt. Tbifl heat is 0

/ degrees by the thermometer. If you have a
thermometer, this is ascertained easily ; but, without
one lake tba rule, by which so mucn good beer has
been made in 1 hundreds of years: when

you can, by looking down into the tub, see your face
clearly in / be water is become cool enough;

and you must not put the mall in before. Now put
in the mall and stir U v< !l in the water. To perform

■ rrinur. which is very necessary, you have a stick,
somewhat bigger than abroom-sti^k. with two or three
smaller sticks, eight or ten inches long, put through
the lower end of it at about three or four inches asunder,
and sticking out on each side of the long stick. These
small cross sticks serve to search the malt and sepa-
rate it well in the stirring or mashing. Thus, then,
the malt is in; and in this state it should continue for
about a quarter of an hour. In the mean while you
will have tilled up your copper, and made it boil; and
now (at the end of the quarter of an hour) vou put in
boiling water sufficient to give you your eighteen gal-
lons of ale. But, perhaps, you must have thirty gal-
lons of water in the whole ; for the grains will
at least ten gallons of water ; and it is better to have
rather too much wort than too little. When your pro-
per quantity of water is in, stir the malt again well.
Cover the mashing-tub over with tacks, or something
that will answer the same purpose ; and there let the
mash stand for two hours. "When it has stood the
two hours, you draw off the wort. And now, mind,
the mashing-tub is placed on a couple of stools, or on
something, that will enable you to put the unch
under it, so as to receive the wort as it comes out of
the hole before-mentioned. When you have put the
underbuck in its place, you let out the wort by pulling

II.] BREWING. 29

up the stick that corks the whole. But, observe, this
stick (which goes six or eight inches through the hole)
must be raised by degrees, and the wort must be let
out slowly, in order to keep back the sediment. So
that it is necessary to have something to keep the stick
up at the point where you are to raise it, and wish to
fix it at for the time. To do this, the simplest, cheap-
est and best thing in the world is a cleft stick. Take
a rod of ash, hazel, birch, or almost any wood ; let it
be a foot or two longer than your mashing-tub is wide
over the top ; split it, as if for making hoops ; tie it
round with a string at each end ; lay it across your
mashing-tub ; pull it open in the middle, and let the
upper part of the wort-stick through it, and when you
raise that stick, by degrees as before directed, the cleft
stick will hold it up at whatever height you please.

44. When you have drawn off the ale-wort, you
proceed to put into the mashing tub water for the
small beer. But, I shall go on with my directions
about the ale till I have got it into the cask and cel-
lar; and shall then return to the small-beer.

45. As you draw off the ale-wort into the under-
buck, you must lade it out of that into the tun-tub, for
which work, as well as for various other purposes in
the brewing, you must have a bowl-dish with a handle
to it. The underbuck will not hold the whole of the
wort. It is, as before described, a shallow tub, to go
under the mashing-tub to draw off the wort into. Out
of this underbuck you must lade the ale-wort into the
tun-tub ; and there it must remain till your copper
be emptied and ready to receive it.

46. The copper being empty, you put the wort into
it, and put in after the wort, or before it, a pound and
a half of good hops, well rubbed and separated as you
put them in. You now make the copper boil, and
keep it, with the lid off, at a good brisk boil, for a full
hour, and if it be an hour and a half it is none the
worse.

47. When the boiling is done, put out your fire,
and put the liquor into the coolers. But it must be
put into the coolers without the hops. Therefore, in

3*

30 Mm [No.

ler to get the hops out of the liquor, you must have

I* In* best for your purpose is a small

asket, or any other wicker-basket You set

your coolers in the most conveniei v be

indoors or out of d at. You

line of the coolers, and

put the basket upon them. Put your liquor, hops

all, into th<
When you have got lie; - h in one cooler, you

go to another w

got all your liquor out. i I your liquor deeper

ne cooler than I an altera-

tion iu th iquor so distn-

btift t both, or all, the coolers.

of the liqu
where it ia a< '

the d heat that the liquor is to be at when it

is set to working. The proper heat is seventy de-

?;rees ; so that a thermometer iter sure,

n the country they determine the degree of heat by
merely putting a finger into the liquor. Seventy de-

rarmtli. No-
thing like heat A little experience makes perfect-
ness in socb B matter. vv. hii d tl the proper heat, or
nearly, (for the liquor will cool a little in behu
»ut it into the tutlrtub. And now, bet.
the act oi' setting the beer to work. 1 must
describe this tun-tub, which 1 first mentioned in Para-
graph V2. It is to hold thirty gallons, as you have
i ; and nothing is better than an old cask of that
size, or somewhat larger, with the head taken out, or
cut oft'. But, indeed, any tub of sufficient dimensi
and of about the same depth proportioned to the
width as a cask or barrel has, will do for the purpose.
Having put the li.juor into the. tun-tub, you put in the
yeast. About half a pint of good yeast is sufficient.
This should first be put into a thing of some sort that
will hold about a gallon of your liquor; the thing
should then be nearly filled with liquor, and with a
stick or spoon you should mix the yeast well with the
liquor in this bowl, or other thing, and stir in along

II."] BREWING. 31

with the yeast a handful of wheat or rye flour. This
mixture is then to be poured out clean into the tun-
tub, and the whole mass of the liquor is then to be
agitated well by lading up and pouring down again
with your bowl-dish, till the yeast be well mixed with
the liquor. Some people do the thing in another
manner. They mix up the yeast and flour with
some liquor (as just mentioned) taken out of the
coolers ; and then they set the little vessel that con-
tains this mixture down on the bottom, of the tun-tub ;
and, leaving it there, put the liquor out of the coolers
into the tun-tub. Being placed at the bottom, and
having the liquor poured on it, the mixture is, per-
haps, more perfectly effected in this way than in any
way. The flour may not be necessary ; but, as the
country people use it, it is, doubtless, of some use ;
for their hereditary experience has not been for no-
thing. When your liquor is thus properly put into
the tun-tub and set a working, cover over the top of
the tub by laying across it a sack or two, or some-
thing that will answer the purpose.

49. We now come to the last stage ; the cask or
barrel. But I must first speak of the place for the
tun-tub to stand in. The place should be such as
to avoid too much w^armth or cold. The air should,
if possible, be at about 55 degrees. Any cool place
in summer and any warmish place in winter. If the
weather be very cold, some cloths or sacks should be
put round the tun-tub while the beer is working. In
about six or eight hours, a frothy head will rise upon
the liquor; and it will keep rising, more or less slow-
ly, for about forty-eight hours. But, the length of
time required for the working depends on various cir-
cumstances; so that no precise time can be fixed.
The best way is, to take off the froth (which is in-
deed yeast) at the end of about twenty-four hours,
with a common skimmer, and put it into a pan or
vessel of some sort; then, in twelve hours' time,
take it off again in the spine way; and so on till the
liquor has clone working, and sends up no more yeast.
Then it is beer ; and when it is quite cold (for ale or

32 BREWING. [No.

strong beer) put it into the cask by means of a fun-
nil. It must be cold before you do this, or it will be
what the country-people call foxed ; that is to say,
have a rank and disagreeable taste. Now, as to the
cask, it must be sound and sweet. I thought, when
writing the former edition of this work, that the bell-
shaped wf are the best casks. I am now convinced
that that was an error. The bell-shaped, by con-
tttctingthe width of the top of the beer, as that top
descends, in consequence of the draft for use, certainly
prevents the head (which always gathers on beer as
soon as you begin to draw it off) From breaking and
mixing in amongst the beer. This is an advantage
in the bell-shape; but then the bell-shape, which pla-
ces the widest end of the cask uppermost, exposes
the cask to the admission of external air much more
than the other shape. This danger approaches from
the ends of the cask ; and, in the bell-shape, you
have the broadest end wholly exposed the moment
you have drawn out the first gallon of beer, which is
not the case with the casks of the common shape.
Directions are given, in the case of the bell-casts,
to put damp sand on the top to keep out the air. But,
it is very difficult to make this effectual ; and yet, if
you do not keep out the air, your beer will be flat ;
and when flat, it really is good for nothing but the
pigs. It is very difficult to fill the bell-cask, which
you will easily see if you' consider its shape. It must
te placed on the level with the greatest possible
truth, or there will be a space left ; and to place it
with such tfuth is, perhaps, as difficult a thing as a
mason or bricklayer ever had to perform. And yet,
if this be not done, there will be an empty space in
the cask, though it may, at the same time, run over.
With the common casks there are none of these dif-
ficulties. A common eye will see when it is well
placed ; and, at any rate, any little vacant space that
may be left is not at an end of the cask, and will,
without great carelessness, be so small as to be of no
consequence. We now come to the act of putting
in the beer. The cask should be placed on a stand

II.] BREWING. 33

with legs about a foot long. The cask, being round,
must have a little wedge, or block, on each side to
keep it steady. Bricks do very well. Bring your
beer down into the cellar in buckets, and pour it in
through the funnel, until the cask be full. The cask
should lean a little on one side, when you fill it ; be-
cause the beer will work again here, and send more
yeast out of the bung-hole ; and, if the cask were
not a little on one side, the yeast would flow over
both sides of the cask, and would not descend in
one stream into a pan, put underneath to receive it.
Here the bell-cask is extremely inconvenient ; for
the yeast works up all over the head, and cannot run
off, and makes a very nasty affair. This alone, to
say. nothing of the other disadvantages, would de-
cide'the question against the bell-casks. Something
will go off in this working, which may continue for
two or three days. When you put the beer in the
cask, you should have a gallon or two left, to keep
filling up with as the working produces emptiness;
At last, when the working is completely over, right
the cask. That is to say, block it up to its level.
Put in a handful of fresh hops. Fill the cask quite
full. Put in the bung, witn a bit of coarse linen
stuff round it ; hammer it down tight ; and, if you
like, fill a coarse bag with sand, and lay it, well
pressed down, over the bung.

50. As to the length of time that you are to keep
the beer before you begin to 'use it, that must, in
some measure, depend on taste. Such beer as this
ale will keep almost any length of time. As to the
mode of tapping, that is as easy almost as drinking.
When the cask is empty, great care must be taken
to cork it tightly up, so that no air get in ; for, if it
.do, the cask is moulded, and when once moulded, it
is spoiled for ever. It is never again fit to be used
about beer. Before the cask be used again, the
grounds must be poured out, and the cask cleaned by
several times scalding ; by putting in stones (or a
chain,) and rolling and shaking about till it be quite
clean. Here again the round casks have the decided

34 BREWING- [No.

advantage; it being almost impossible to make the
bell-casks thoroughly clean, without taking the head
out, which is both troublesome and expensive ; as it
cannot be well done by any one but a cooper, who
is not always at hand, and who, when he is, must
be paid.

51. I have now done with the ale, and it remains
for me to speak of the §maU beer. In Paragraph 47
(which now see) I left you drawing off the ale-wort,
and with your copper full of boiling water. Thirty-
six gallons of that boiling water are, as soon as you
have got your ale-wort out, and have put down your
mash-tub stick to close up the hole at the bottom ;
as soon as you have done this, thirty-six gallons of
the boiling water are to go into the mashing-tub; the
grains are to be well stirred up, as before; ^he mash-
mg-tub is to be covered over again, as mentioned in
Paragraph 43; and the mash is to stand in that
state for an hour, and not two hours, as for the ale-
wort.

52. When the small beer mash has stood its hour,
draw it off as in Paragraph 47, and put it into the
tun-tub as you did the ale-wort.

53. By this time your copper will be empty a:rain.
by putting your ale-liquor to cool, as mentioned in
Paragraph 47. And you now put the small beer wort
into the copj)er, with the hops that you used before,
and with half a pound of fresh hops added to them ;
and this liquor you boil briskly for an hour.

54. By this time you will have taken the grains
and the sediment clean out of the mashing-tub, and
taken out the bunch of birch twigs, and made all
clean. Now put in the birch twigs again, and put
down your stick as before. Lay your two or three
sticks across the mashing-tub, put your basket on
them, and take your liquor from the copper (putting
the fire out first) and pour it into the mashing-tub
through the basket. Take the basket away, throw
the hops to the dunghill, and leave the small beer
liquid to cool in the mashing-tub.

55. Here it is to remain to be set to working' as

II.] BREWING. 35

mentioned for the ale, in Paragraph 48 ; only, in this
case, you will want more yeast in proportion ; and
should have for your thirty-six gallons of small beer,
three half pints of good yeast.

56. Proceed, as to all the rest of the business, as
with the ale, only, in the case of the small beer, it
should be put into the cask, not quite cold, but a little
warm ; or else it will not work at ail in the barrel,
which it ought to do. It will not work so strongly or
so long as the ale; and may be put in the barrel much
sooner ; in general the next day after it is brewed.

57. All the utensils should be well cleaned and
put away as soon as they are done with ; the little
things as well as the great things ; for it is loss of
time to make new ones. And, now, let us see the
expense of these utensils. The copper, new, 51. ;
the mashing-tub, new, 30s. ; the tun-tub, not new, 5s. ;
the underbuck and three coolers, not new, 20s. The
whole cost is 71. 10s. which is ten shillings less than
the one bushel machine. I am now in a farm-house,
where the same set of utensils has been used for
forty years ; and the owner tells me, that, with the
same use, they may last for forty years longer. The
machine will not, I think, last four years% if in any
thing like regular use. It is of sheet-iron, tinned on
the inside, and this tin rusts exceedingly, and is not
to be kept clean without such rubbing- as must soon
take off the tin. The great advantage of the ma-
chine is, that it can be removed. You can brew with-
out a breio-house. — You can set the boiler up against
any fire-place, or any window. You can brew un-
der a cart-shed, and even out of doors. But all this
may be done with these utensils, if your copper be
moveable. Make the boiler of copper, and not of
sheet-iron, and fix it on a stand with afire-place and
stove-pipe ; and then you have the whole to brew
out of doors with as wel\ as in-doors, which is a very
great convenience.

58. Now with regard to the other scale of brewing,
little need he said : because, all the principles being
the same, the utensils only are to be proportioned to

Ml BREWING. [No.

the quantity. If only one sort of beer be to be brewed
at a time, all the difference is, that, in order to extract
the whole of the goodness of the malt, the mashing
ought to be at twice. The two worts are then put to-
gether, and then you boil them togeth r with the hops.

59. A Correspondent at Morpeth says, the whole of
the utensils used by him are a twenty-gallon pot, a
riKi-hiirj-iui). that also answers for a uin-tub, and a
shallow tul) lor a cooler; and that these are plenty for
a person who is any thing of a contriver. Tli
very true ; and these things will cost no more, perhaps,
thaii forty shillinirs. A nine gallon cask of beer can
be brewed very well with such utensils. Indeed, it is
what used to be done by almost every labouring man
in the kingdom, until the high price of malt and com-
paratively low price of wages rendered the people too
poor and miserable to be able to brew at all. A Cor-
respondent at Bristol has obligingly sent me the model
of utensils for ' scale; but as they
consist chiefly of brittle ware, I am of opinion that
they would not so well answer the purpose.

60. Indeed, as to the country labourers, all they want
is the ability to ir> t the malt. Mr. Ellman, in his
evidence before the Agricultural Committee, said,
that, when he began farming, forty-five years ago,
there was not a labourers family in the parish that
did not brew their own beer and enjoy it by their own
fire-sides; and that. uoic, not one single family did it,

from want of ability to get the malt. It is the tax
that prevents their getting the malt; for, the barl-
cheap enough. The tax causes a monopoly in the
hands of the maltsters, who, when the tax is tiro and
sixpence, make the malt, cost 7s. &/., though the bar-
ley cost but 2s. 6.d; and though the malt, tax and all,
ought to cost him about 5s. (kl. If the tax were taken
off, this pernicious monopoly would be destroyed.

61. Tne reader will easily see, that, in proportion
to the quantity wanted to be brewed must be the size
of the utensils ; but, I may observe here, that the above
utensils are sufficient for three, or even four, bushels
of malt, if stronger beer be wanted.

II.] BREWING. 37

62. When it is necessary, in case of falling short
in the quantity wanted to fill up the ale cask, some
may be taken from the small beer. But, upon the
whole brewing, there ought to be no falling short ; be-
cause, if the casks be not Jilled up, the beer will not be
good, and certainly will not keep. Great care should
be taken as to the cleansing of the casks. They
should be made perfectly sweet; or it is impossible to
have good beer.

63. The cellar, for beer to keep any length of time,
should be cool. Under a hill is the best place for a
cellar ; but, at any rate, a cellar of good depth, and dry.
At certain times of the year, beer that is kept long
will ferment. The vent-pegs must, in such cases, be
loosened a little, and afterwards fastened.

64. Small beer may be tapped almost directly. It
is a sort of joke that it should see a Sunday; but, that
it may do before it be two days old. In short, any
beer is better than water ; but it should have some
strength and some weeks of age at any rate.

65. I cannot conclude this Essay without express-
ing my pleasure, that a law has been recently passed
to authorize the general retail of beer. This really
seems necessary to prevent the King's subjects from
being poisoned. The brewers and porter quacks have
carried their tricks to such an extent, that there is no
safety for those who drink brewer's beer.

66. The best and most effectual thing is, however,
for people to brew their own beer, to enable them and
induce them to do which, I have done all that lies in
my power. A longer treatise on the subject would
have been of no use. These few plain directions
will suffice for those who have a disposition to do the
thing, and those who have not would remain unmoved
by any thing that I could say.

67. There seems to be a great number of things
to do in brewing, but the greater part of them require
only about a minute each. A brewing, such as I have

fiven the detail of above, may be completed in a day;
ut, by the word day, I mean to include the morning,
beginning at four o'clock.
4

38 BREWING. [NO.

68. The putting of the beer into barrel is not more
than an hour's work for a servant woman, or a trades-
man's or a farmer9! wife. There is no heavy work, no
work too heavy for a woman in any part of the busi-
ness, otherwise I would not recommend it to I
formed by the women, who. though so amiable in them-
selves, are never quite BO amiable as when ti;
useful; and as to beauty, though men may fall in love
with girla at piny, there is nothing to make them >tand
to their love like seeing them at work. In conclusion
of these remarks <m beer brewmg, 1 once more express
my most anxious desire to see abolished for" ever the
accursed tax on //Kilt, which, I verilv believe, has
done more harm to the people of England than was
ever done to any people by plague, pestilence, famine,
and civil war.

69. In Paragraph 76, in Paragraph 108, and per-
haps in another place or two (of the last edition,)- 1
spoke of the machine for brewing. The work being
etereotypedf it would have been troublesome to alter
those paragraphs ; but, of course, the public, in read-
ing them, will bear in mind what lias been now said
relative to the machine. The inventor of that ma-
chine deserves great praise for his efforts to promote
private brewing ; and, as I said before, in certain con-
fined situations, and where the beer is to be merely
small beer, and for immediate use, and where time
and room are of such importance as to make the cost
of the machine comparatively of trifling considera-
tion, the machine may possibly be found to be an use-
ful utensil.

70. Having stated the inducements to the brewing
of beer, and given the plainest directions that 1 was
able to give for the doing of the thing, I shall, next,
proceed to the subject of bread. But this subject is
too large and of too much moment to be treated with
brevity, and must, therefore, be put off till mv next
Number. I cannot, in the mean while, dismiss the
subject of brewing beer without once more adverting
to Its many advantages, as set forth in the foregoing
Number oi* this work.

:

II.l BREWING. 39

71. The following instructions for the making of
porter , will clearly show what sort of stuff is sold at
public-houses in London ; and we may pretty fairly
suppose that the public-house beer in the country is
not superior to it in quality, " A quarter of malt, with
these ingredients, will make Jive barrels of good por-
ter. Take one quarter of high-coloured malt, eight
pounds of hops, nine pounds of treacle, eight pounds
of colour, eight pounds of sliced liquorice-root, twTo
drams of salt of tartar, two ounces of Spanish-liquor-
ice, and half an ounce of capsicum." The author
says, that he merely gives the ingredients, as used by
many persons.

72. This extract is taken from a book on brewing,
recently published in London. What a curious com-
position! What a mess of drugs ! But, if the brew-
ers openly avow this, what have we to expect from the
secret practices of them, and the retailers of the arti-
cle ! When we know, that beer-doctor and brewers^-
druggist are professions, practised as openly as those
of bug-man and rdt-killer, are we simple enough to
suppose that the above-named are the only drugs that
people swallow in those potions, which they call pots
of beer ? Indeed, we know the contrary ; for scarcely
a week passes- without witnessing the detection of
some greedy wretch, who has used, in making or in
doctoring his beer, drugs, forbidden by the law. And,
it is not many weeks since one of these was convict-
ed, in the Court of Excise, for using potent and dan-
gerous drugs, by the means of which, and a suitable
quantity of water, he made two buts of beer into three.
Upon this occasion, it appeared that no less than nine-
ty of these worthies were in the habit of pursuing the
same practices. The drugs are not unpleasant to the
taste ; they sting the palate : they give a present re-
lish : they . communicate a momentary exhilaration :
but, they give no force to the body, which, on the con-
trary, they enfeeble, and, in many instances, with
time, destroy ; producing diseases from which the
drinker would otherwise have been free to the end
of his days.

40 BRKU [Nu.

73. But, look again at the receipt for making por-
ter. Here are eight bushels of malt to 180 gallons*
of beer; that is to say, I e gallons from the
bushel. Now the malt is eight shillings a bushel, and
eight pounds of the very best hops wiil cost but a shil-
ling a pound. The malt and hope, then, for the 180
gallons, cost but set /i tilings ; that is to say,
only a little more than faurpence ss a
gallon, for staff which is now retailed for sixteen
'pence a If this be not an abomination. 1
should be glad to know what it, Even if the treacle,
colour, and the &rrnga he included, the cost is not Jive-
pence a gaBoUj and yet, not content with this enor-
mous extortion, then are wretches who resort to the
use of other and pernicious drugs, in order to increase
their gains!

74. To provide against this dreadful evil there is,
and there can be, no law ; for, it is created by the law.
The law it is that imposes the enormous tax on the
malt and hops ; the taw it ifl that imposes the license
tax, and places the power of granting the license at
the discretion of persons appointed by the govern-
ment ; the law it is that checks, in this way, the pri-
vate brewing, and that prevents free awl fa i

lion in the selling of beer, and as long as the law does
these, it will in vain endeavour to prevent the people
from being destroyed by slow poison.

?.">. Innumerable are the benefits that would arise from
a repeal of the taxes on malt and on hops. Tippling-
houses might then be shut up with justice and propri-
ety. The labourer, the artisan, the tradesman, the
landlord, all would instantly feel the benefit. But the
'/lord more, perhaps, in this case, than any other
member of the community. The four or five pounds
a year which the day-labourer now drizzles away in

messes, he would divide with the farmer, if he
untaxed beer. His wages would fall, and fall to his
advantage too. The fall of wages would be not
than 40/. upon a bandied acres. Thus 40/. would go,
in the end, a fourth, perhaps to the farmer, and tl
fourths to the landlord. This i> the kind i i

III.] Making bread. 41

r educe poor-rates , and to restore husbandry to prospe-
rity. Undertaken this work must be, and performed
too ; but whether we shall see this until the estates
have passed away from the present race of landlords,
is a question which must be referred to time.

76. Surely we may hope, that, when the American
farmers shall see this little Essay, they will begin se-
riously to think of leaving off the use of the liver-
burning and palsy-producing spirits. Their climate,
indeed, is something : extremely hot in one part of
the year, and extremely cold in the other part of it.
Nevertheless, they may have, and do have, very good
beer if they will. Negligence is the greatest impedi-
ment in their way. I like the Americans very much ;
and that, if there were no other, would be a reason
for my not hiding their faults.

No. III.

MAKING BREAD.

77. Little time need be spent in dwelling on the
necessity of this article to all families ; though, on ac-
count of the modern custom of using potatoes to sup-
ply the place of bread, it seems necessary to say a few
words here on the subject, which, in another work I
have so amply, and, I think, so triumphantly discussed.
I am the more disposed to revive the subject for a mo-
ment, in this place, from having read, in the evidence
recently given before the Agricultural Committee,
that many labourers, especially in the West of Eng-
land, use potatoes instead of bread to a very great ex-
tent. And I find, from the same evidence, that it is
the custom to allot to labourers " a potatoe ground"
in part payment of their wages ! This has a tenden-
cy to bring English labourers down to the state of the
Irish, whose mode of living, as to food, is but one re-
move from that of the pig, and of the ill-fed pig too.

78. I was, in reading the above-mentioned Evi-
4*

42 --^.ad. [No.

denee, glad to fin! Wakefield,

the best informed and most candid oi" all the wit-
nesses, gave it as his opinion, that the increase which
had taken place in the cultivation of potatoes v
"injurious to the co d opinion which must, I

think, be adopted L . kes the trouble

to reflect a little upon the subject. For leaving out of
the question the sli habits engi

dered amongst the labour - by constantly lift-

ing their principal nee out of the earth to

their mouth-, by eating without the necessity of any
implements other than the hands aud the teeth, and
by dispensing with everything requiring skill in the
preparation of the cleanliness in

its consumption or preservation ; Leaving these out of
the question, though they are all matter- of great mo-
ment, when we consider their effects in the rearing of
a family, we shall find. that, in mere quantity of food,
that is to say of nourish went, bread is the preferable diet.
79. An acre of land that will produce 300 bushels
of potatoes, will produce 32 bushels of wheat. I state
this as an fact, and am not at all afraid of

being contradicted by any one well acquainted with
husbandry. The potatoes are supposed to be of a good
sort, as it is called, and the wheat may be supposed to
:h 60 pounds a bushel. It is a fact clearly estab-
.1. that, after the wafer, the stringy substance, and
the earth, are taken from the potatoe, there remain-
only one tenth of the rough raw weight of nutritious
matter, or matter which is deemed equally nutritious
with bread, and, as the raw potatoes weigh 561b. a
bushel, the acre will yield 1.8301b. of nutritious mat-
ter. Now mind, a bushel of wheat, weighing 601b.
will make of household bread (that i^ to say. tax
out only the bran) 651b. Thus, the acre yields
2,0801b, of bread. As to the expenses, the seed and
act of planting are about equal in the two cases. Hut.
while the potatoes must have cultivation during their
growth, the wheat needs none ; and while the wheat
straw is worth from three to five pounds an acre, the
haulm of the potatoes i* not worth one single (TON

III.] MAKING BREAD. 43

of that straw. Then, as to the expense of gathering,
housing, and keeping the potatoe crop, it is enormous,
besides the risk of loss by frost, which may be safely
taken, on an average, at a tentri of the crop. Then
comes the expense of cooking. The thirty-two bush-
els of wheat, supposing a bushel to be baked at a time,
(which would be the case in a large family,) would
demand thirty-two heatings of the oven. Suppose
a bushel of potatoes to be cooked every day in order
to supply the place of this bread, then we have nine
hundred boilings of the pot, unless cold potatoes be
eaten at some of the meals ; and, in that case, the
diet must be cheering indeed ! Think of the labour ;
think of the time ; think of all the peelings and scra-
pings and washings and messings attending these
nine hundred boilings of the pot I For it must be a
considerable time before Euglish people can be
brought to eat potatoes in the Irish style ; that is to
say, scratch them out of the earth with their paws,
toss them into a pot without washing, and when boil-
ed, turn them out upon a dirty board, and then sit
round that board, peel the skin and dirt from one at a
time and eat the inside. Mr. Curwen was delighted
with " Irish hospitality" because the people there re-
ceive no parish relief; upon which I can only say, that
I wish him the exclusive benefit of such hospitality.

80. I have here spoken of a large quantity of each
of the sorts of food. I will now come to a compa-
rative view, more immediately applicable to a labour-
er's family. When wheat is ten shillings the bushel,
potatoes, bought at best hand, (I am speaking of the
country generally,) are about two shillings (English)
a bushel. Last spring the average price of wheat
might be six and sixpence, (English ;) and the ave-
rage price of potatoes (in small quantities) was about
eighte en-pence ; though, by the wagon-load, I saw
potatoes Dought at a shilling (English) a bushel, to
give to sheep; then, observe, these were of the
coarsest kind, and the farmer had to fetch them at a
considerable expense. I think, therefore, that I give
the advantage to the potatoes when I say that they

44 MAKING BREAD. [No.

sell, upon an average, for full a fifth part as much as
the wheat sells for, per bushel, while they contain
four pounds less weight than the bushel of wheat ;
while they yield only five pounds and a half of nu-
tritious matter equal to bread ; and while the bushel
of wheat will yield si\rty-ficc pottOfU of bread, be-
sides the ten pounds of bran. Hence it is clear,
that, instead of tha everlastin^ly

dinned in our ears, from the use of potatoes, there is
a waste of more than one half ; seeing that, when
wheat IB ten s/u'f/ings (English) the bushel, you can
have si.rt //-five pounds of bread for the ten skill nigs ;
and can have out of potatoes only five pounds and a
half of nutritious matter equal to bread for tiro shil-
lings ! ( English.) This bein^ the case, I trust that we
shall soon hear no more of those savings which the
labourer makes by the use of potatoes ; I hope we
shall, in the words of Dr. Drennan, " leave Ire-
land to her lazy root," if she choose still to adhere
to it. It is the root, also, of slovenliness, filth, mi-
sery, and slavery ; its cultivation has increased in
England with the increase of the paupers : both, I
thank God, are upon the decline. Englishmen seem
to be upon the return to beer and bread, from water
and potatoes : and, therefore, I shall now proceed to
offer some observations to the cottager, calculated to
induce him to bake his own bread.

81. As I have before stated, sixty pounds of wheat,
that is to say, where the Winchester bushel weighs
sixty pounds, will make sixty -five pounds of bread,
besides the leaving of about ten pounds of bran.
This is household bread, made of flour from which
the bran only is taken. If vqu make fine flour, you
take out pollard, as thev call It, as well as bran, and
then you have a smaller quantity of bread and a
greater quantity of offal; but, even of this finer
bread, bread equal in fineness to the baker's bread,
you get from fifty-eight to fifty-nine pounds out of
the bushel of wheat. Now, then, let us see how
many quartern loaves you get out of the bushel of
wheat, supposing it to be fine flour, in the first place.

III.] MAKING BREAD. 45

You get thirteen quartern loaves and a half; these
cost you, at the present average price of wheat
(seven and sixpence a bushel,) in the first place 7s.
fad. ;* then 3d. for yeast ; then not more than 3d. for
grinding; because you have about thirteen pounds
of offal, 'which is worth more than a fd. a pound,
while the grinding is 9d. a bushel. Thus, then, the
bushelof bread of fifty-nine pounds costs you eight
shillings ; and it yields you the weight of thirteen
and a half quartern loaves : these quartern loaves
now (Dec. 1821) sell at Kensington, at the baker's
shop, at Is. ^d. ; that is to say, the thirteen quartern
loaves and a half cost 14s. 7-J-d I omitted to mention
the salt, which would cost you 4d. more. So that,
here is 6.s. 3^d. saved upon the baking of a bushel
of bread. The baker's quartern loaf is indeed
cheaper in the country than at Kensington, by, pro-
bably, a penny in the loaf; which wo.uld still, how-
ever, leave a saving of 5s. upon the bushel of bread.
But, besides this, pray think a little of the materials
of which the baker's loaf is composed. The alum,
the ground potatoes, and other materials ; it being a
notorious fact, that the bakers, in London at least,
have mills wherein to grind their potatoes ; so large
is the scale upon which they use that material. It
is probable, that, out of a bushel of wheat, they
make between sixty and seventy pounds of bread,
though they have no more flour, and, of course, no
more nutritious matter, than you have in your fifty-
nine pounds of bread. But, at the least, supposing
their bread to be as good as yours in quality, you
have, allowing a shilling for the heating of the oven,
a clear 4s. saved upon every bushel of bread. If
you consume half a bushel a week, that is to say
about a quartern loaf a day, this is a saving of 51.
4s. a year, or full a sixth part, if not a fifth part, of
the earnings of a labourer in husbandry.

82. How wasteful, then, and, indeed, how shame-

* All the calculations in this work, it must be remembered, are in
English money but may be turned into United States' money as before
directed, page 16.

46 MAKING BREAD* [No.

ful, for a labourer's wife to go to the baker's shop; and
how negligent, how criminally careless of the wel-
fare of Ins family, must the labourer be, who per-
mits so scandalous a use of the proceeds of \\\<
labour! But I have hitherto taken a view of the
matter the least possibly advantageous to the home-
baked bread. For, ninety-nine times out of a hun-
dred, the fuel for beating the oven costs very little.
The hedgers, the men of all de-

scriptions, have fuel for little or nothing. At any
rate, to heat the oven cannot, upon an average, take
the country through, cost the labourer more than
a bushel. Then, again, fine flour need not ever be
used, and ought not to be used. This adds six
pounds of bread to the bushel, or nearly another quar-
tern loaf and a half, making nearly fifteen quartan
loaves out of the bushel of wheat. The finest flour
is by no means the most wholesome ; and, at any
rate, there is more nutritious matter in a pound of
household bread than in a pound of baker's bread.
Besides this, rye, and even barley, especially when
mixed with wheat, make very good bread. Few peo-
ple upon the face of the earth live better than the
Long Islanders. Yet nine families out of ten sel-
dom eat wheaten-bread. Rye is the flour that they
principally make use of. Now, rye is seldom more
than two-thirds the price of wheat, and barlev 18
seldom more than half the price of wheat. Half
rye and half wheat, taking out a little more of the
offal, make very good bread. Half wheat, a quarter
rye and a quarter barlev. nay. one-third of each,
make bread that I could be very well content to live
upon all my lifetime; and, even barley alone, if the
barley be good, and none but the finest flour taken
out of it, has in it, measure for measure, ten times
the nutrition of potatoes. Indeed the fact is well
known, that our forefathers used barley bread to a
very great extent. Its only fault, with those who
dislike it, is its sweetness, a fault which we certainly
have not to find with the baker's loaf, which has in
it little more of the sweetness of grain than is to be

III.] MAKING BREAD. 47

found in the offal which comes from the sawings of
deal boards. The nutritious nature of barley is
amply proved by the effect, and very rapid effect, of
its meal, in the fatting of hogs and of poultry of all
descriptions. They will fatten quicker upon meal of
barley than upon any other thing.. The flesh, too,
is sweeter than that proceeding from any other food,
with the exception of that which proceeds from buck
loheat, a grain little used in England. That pro-
ceeding from Indian corn is, indeed, still sweeter
and finer- but this is wholly out of the question
with us.

83. I am, by-and-by, to speak of the cow to be kept
by the labourer in husbandry. Then there will be
milk to wet the bread with, an exceedingly great
improvement in its taste as well as in its quality !
This, of all the ways of using skim milk, is the most
advantageous : and this great advantage must be
wholly thrown away, if the bread of the family be
bought at the shop. . With milk, bread with very lit-
tle wheat in it may be made far better than baker's
bread ; and, leaving the milk out of the question,
taking a third of each sort of grain, you would get
bread weighing as much as fourteen quartern loaves,
for about 5s. 9d. at present prices of grain ; that is to
say, you would get it for about 5d. the quartern loaf,
all expenses included; thus you have nine pounds and
ten ounces of bread a day for about 5s. 9d. a week.
Here is enough for a very large family. Very few
labourers' families can want so much as this, unless
indeed there be several persons in it capable of earn-
ing something by their daily labour. Here is cut and
come again. Here is bread always for the table.
Bread to carry a field; always a hunch of bread
ready to put into the hand of a hungry child. We
hear a great deal about " children crying for bread"
and objects of compassion they and their parents are,
when the latter have not the means of obtaining a
sufficiency of bread. But I should be glad to be in-
formed, how it is possible for a labouring man, who
earns, upon an average, 10s. a week, who has not

48 MAKING BREAD.

more than four children (and if he have more, some
oucrht to be doing something;) who has a garden of
a quarter of an acre of land (for that makes part of
my plan ; who has a wife as industrious as she ought
to be ; who does not waste his earnings at the ale-
house or the tea shop: I should be glad to know how
such a man, while wheat shall be at the price of
about 65. a bushel, can possibly have children crying
for br>

84. Cry, indeed, they must, if he will per>
giving 13s. for a bushel of bread instead of 5s. 9d.
Such a man is not to say that the bread which I have
described is not gn . It was good enough for
his forefathers, who were too proud to be paupers,
that is to say, abject and willing slaves. " Hogs eat
barley." And hogs will eat wheat, too, when they
can get at it. Convicts in condemned cells eat
wheaten bread ; but we think it no degradation to
eat wheaten bread, too. I am for depriving the la-
bourer of none of his rights; I would have him
oppressed in no manner or shape ; I would have him
bold and free ; but to have him such, he must have
bread in his house, sufficient for all his family, and
whether that bread be fine or coarse must depend
upon the different circumstances which present them-
selves in the cases of different individuals.

85. The married man has no right to expect the
same plenty of food and of raiment that the single
man has. The time before marriage is the time to
lay by, or, if the party choose, to indulge himself in
the absence of labour. To marry is a voluntary act,
and it is attended in the result with great pleasures
and advantages. If, therefore, the laws be fair and
equal ; if the state of things be such that a labouring
man can, with the usual ability of labourers, and with
constant industry, care and sobriety ; with decency
of deportment towards all his neighbours, cheerful
obedience to his employer, and a due subordination
to the laws ; if the state of things be such, that such
a man's earnings be sufficient to maintain himself
and family with food, raiment, and lodging needful

U

III.] MAKING BREAD. 49

for them ; such a man has no reason to complain ;
and no labouring man has reason to complain, if the
numerousness of his family should call upon him for
extraordinary exertion, or for frugality uncommonly
rigid. The man with a large family has, if it be not
in a great measure his own fault, a greater number of
pleasures and of blessings than other men. If he be
wise, and just as well as wise, he will see that it is
reasonable for him to expect less delicate fare than
his neighbours, who have a less number of children,
or no children at all. He will see the justice as well
as the necessity of his resorting to the use of coarser
bread, and thus endeavour to make up that, or at least
a part of that, which he loses in comparison with his
neighbours. The quality of the bread ought, in every
case, to be proportioned to the number ol* the family
and the means of the head of that family. Here is
no injury to health proposed ; but, on the contrary,
the best security for its preservation. Without bread,
all is misery. The Scripture truly calls it the staff
of life ; and it may be called, too, the pledge of peace
and happiness in the labourer's dwelling.

86. As to the act of making bread, it would be
shocking indeed if that had to be taught by the means
of books. Every woman, high or low, ought to know
how to make bread. If she do not, she is unworthy
of trust and confidence; and, indeed, a mere burden
upon the community. Yet, it is but too true, that
many women, even amongst those who have to get
their living by their labour, know nothing of the
making of bread ; and seem to understand little more
about it than the part which belongs to its consump-
tion. A Frenchman, a Mr. Cusar, who had been
born in the West Indies, told me, that till he came
to Long Island, he never knew how the flour came:
that he was surprised when he learnt that it was
squeezed out of little grains that grew at the tops of
straw ; for that he had always had an idea that it was
got out of some large substances, like the yams that
grow in tropical climates. He was a very sincere
and good man, and I am sure he told me truth. And
5

50 MAKING BREAP. [No.

this may be the more readily believed, when we see
so many women in England, who seem to know no
more of the constituent parts of a loaf than they
know of those of the moon. Servant women in
abundance appear to think that loaves are made by
the baker, as Knights are made by the kinir ; things
of their pure creation, a creation, too. in which no one
else 'in participate. Now, is not this an enormous
evil? And whence does it come? Servant women
are the children of the labouring classes; and they
would all know how to make bread, and know well
how to make it too, if they had been fed on bread of
Iheir mother's and their own making.

87. How serious a matter, then, is this, even in
this point of view! A servant that cannot make
bread is not entitled to the same wages as one that
can. If she can neither bake nor brew; if she be
ignorant of the nature of Hour, yeast, malt, and hops,
what is she good for ? If she understand these mat-
ters well ; if she be able to supplv her employer with
bread and with beer, she is really valuable : she is
entitled to good wages, and to consideration and
respect into the bargain; but if she be wholly de-
ficieat in these particulars, and can merely dawdle
about with a bucket and a broom, she can be of very
little consequence; to lose her, is merely to lose a
consumer of food, and she can expect very little in-
deed in the way of desire to make her life easy and
pleasant. Why should any one have such desire?
She is not a child of the family. She is not a rela-
tion. Any one as well as she can take in a loaf from
the baker, or a barrel of beer from the brewer. She
has nothing whereby to bind her employer to her.
To sweep a room any thing is capable of that has got
two hands. Jn short, she has no useful skill, no use-
ful ability; she is an ordinary drudge, and she is
treated accordingly.

88. But, if such be her state in the house of an
emplover. what is her state in the house of a hus-
band? The lover is blind; but the husband has
eyes to see with. He «oon discovers that there it

III.] MAKING BREAD* 51

something wanted besides dimples and cherry cheeks ;
and I would have fathers seriously reflect, and to be
well assured, that the way to make their daughters
to be long admired, beloved and respected by their
husbands, is to make them skilful, able and active in
the most necessary concerns of a family. Eating
and drinking come three times every day ; the pre-
parations for these, and all the ministry necessary to
them, belong to the wife ; and I hold it to be impos-
sible, that at the end of two years, a really ignorant,
sluttish wife should possess any thing worthy of the
name of love from her husband. This, therefore, is
a matter of far greater moment to the father of a
family, than, whether the Parson of the parish, or the
Methodist Priest, be the most "Evangelical" of
the two ; for it is here a question of the daughter's
happiness or misery for life. And I have no hesita-
tion to say, that if I were a labouring man, I should
prefer teaching my daughters to bake, brew, milk,
make butter and cheese, to teaching them to read the
Bible till they had got every word of it by heart;
and I should think, too, nay I should know, that I was
in the former case doing my duty towards God as well
as towards my children.

89. When we see a family of dirty, ragged little
creatures, let us inquire into the cause ; and ninety-
nine times out of every hundred we shall find that
the parents themselves have been brought up in the
same way. But a consideration which ought of it-
self to be sufficient, is the contempt in which a hus-
band will naturally hold a wife that is ignorant of the
matters necessary to the conducting of a family. A
woman who understands all the things above men-
tioned, is really a skilful person; a person whorthy of
respect, and that will be treated with respect too, by
all but brutish employers or brutish husbands ; and
such, though sometimes, are not very frequently
found. Besides, if natural justice and our own in-
terest had not the weight which they have, such
valuable persons will be treated with respect. They
know their own worth; and, accordingly, they are

52 MAKING BREAD. [No.

more careful of their character, more careful not to
lessen by misconduct the value which they possess
from their skill and ability.

90. Thus, then. the interest of the labourer; his
health ; the health of his family ; the peace and hap-
piness of his home; the prosper- children
through life : their skill, their ability, their habits of
cleanliness, and even their mora tent ; all
combine to press upon him the adoption and the
constant practice of thi^ branch i tic econo-
my. " Can she bake?" is the question that I always
put. If she can. she is worth a i><

more. Is that nothing -; Is it nothing for a labouring
man to make his four or five dan.
or ten pounds a year more; and that too while he is
by the same means providing the more plentifully for
himself and the rest of his family ? The reasons on
the side of the thing that I contend for are endh
but if this one motive be not sufficient, I am sure, all
that I have said, and all that I could say, must be
wholly unavailing.

91. Before, however. I dismiss this subject, let me
say a word or two to those persons who do not come
under the denomination of labourers. In London, or
in any very large town where the space is so confin-
ed, and where the proper fuel is not handily to be
come at and stored for use, to bake your own bread
may be attended with too much difficulty ; but in all
other situations there appears to me to be hardly "any
excuse for not baking bread at home. If the family
consist of twelve or fourteen persons, the money ac-
tually saved in this way (even at present prices)
would be little short of from twenty to thirty pounds
a year. At the utmost here is only the time of one
woman occupied one day in the week. Now mind,
here are twenty-five pounds to be employed in some
way different from that of giving it to the baker. If
you add five of these pounds to a woman's wages, is
not that full as well employed as giving it in wages
to the baker's men ? Is it not better employed for
you ? and is it not better employed for the commu-

III.] MAKING BREAD. 53

nity 1 It is very certain, that if the practice were as
prevalent as I could wish, there would be a large de-
duction from the regular baking population; but
would there be any harm if less alum were imported
into England, and if some of those youths were left
at the plough, who are now bound in apprenticeships
to learn the art and mystery of doing that which
every girl in the kingdom ought to be taught to do
by her mother ? It ought to be a maxim with every
master and every mistress, never to employ another
to do that which can be done as well by their own
servants. The more of their money that is retained
in the hands of their own people, the better it is for
them altogether. Besides, a man of a right mind
must be pleased with the reflection, that there is a
great mass of skill and ability under his own roof.
He feels stronger and more independent on this ac-
count, all pecuniary advantage out of the question.
It is impossible to conceive any thing more contemp-
tible than a crowd of men and women living together
in a house, and constantly looking out of it for peo-
ple to bring them food and drink, and to fetch" their
garments to and- fro. Such a crowd resemble a nest
of unfledged birds, absolutely dependent for their
very existence on the activity and success of the old
ones.

92. Yet, on men go, from year to year in this state
of wretched dependence, even when they have all
the means of living within themselves, which is cer-
tainly the happiest state of life that any one can en-
joy. It may be asked, Where is the mill to be found?
where is the wheat to be got ? The answer is,
Where is there not a mill? where is there not. a
market ? They are every where, and the difficulty
is to discover what can be the particular attractions
contained in that long and luminous manuscript, a
baker's half-yearly bill.

93. With regard to the mill, in speaking of fami-
lies of any considerable number of persons, the mill
has; with me, been more than once a subject of obser-
vation in print. I for a good while experienced the

5*

54 MAKING BREAD. [No.

great inconvenience and expense of sending my
wheat and other grain to he ground at a mill. This
expense, in case of a considerable family, livin.
only a mile from a mill, is something ; hut the incon-
veniency "am! uncertainty arc <_rre;it. In my ''Year's
Residence in America," from Paragraphs 1031 and
onwards, 1 give an account '-mill which I

had in my farm yard : and I showed. 1 think very
clearly, that corn could he ground cheaper in this
way than by wind that it would an-

swer we I for Bale in ell as for

home use. sue- \ mj return to England I have m
a mill, erected in CO « of what the owner had

read in my book. This mill beloi small far-

mer, who, when he rk on nia land with his

horses, or in the season when he has little for to
tod<> Is the flour; and he takes in

grists to grind, as other millers do. This mill goes
with three small horses; but what 1 would recom-
mend to gentlemen with considerable families, or to
farmers, 18 a mill bucB a^ 1 myself have at present.

94.' With this mill, turned by a man and a stout
boy, I can grind six bushels of wheat in a day and
dress the Hour. The grinding -hels of wheat

at ninepenee a bushel comes to four and sixpence,
which pays the man and the boy, supposing them
(which is not and seldom can be the case) to be hired
tor the express purpose out of the street. With the
same mill you srrind meat for your pisrs ; and of this
you will get eight or ten bushels ground in a day.
You have no trouble about sending to the mill; you
are sure to have your own wheat ; for strange as it
may seem. I used sometimes to find that 1 Bent white
Essex wheat to the mill, and that it brought me flour
from very coarse red wheat. Ther counting

for this, except by supposing that wind and water
power has something in it to change the very nature
of the grain; a<. when 1 came to grind b]
such as the wheat went into the hopper, so the flour
came out into the bin.

95. But mine now is only on the petty scale of

III.] MAKING BREAD. 55

providing for a dozen of persons and a small lot of
pigs. For a farm-house, or a gentleman's house in
the country, where there would be room, to have a
walk for a horse, you might take the labour from the
men, clap any little horse, pony, or even ass to the
wheel ; and he would grind you off eight or ten
bushels of wheat in a day, and both he and you
would have the thanks of your men into the bargain.
96. The cost of this mill is twenty pounds. The
dresser is four more ; the horse-path and wheel might,
possibly, be four or five more; and, I am very cer-
tain, that to any farmer living at a mile from a mill,
(and that is less than the average distance perhaps ;)
having twelve persons in family, having forty pigs to
feed, and twenty hogs to fatten, the savings of such
a mill would pay the whole expenses of it the very
first year. Such a farmer cannot send less than fifty
times a year to the mill. Think of that, in the first
place ! The elements are not always propitious :
sometimes the water fails, and sometimes the wind.
Many a farmer's wife has been tempted to vent her
spleen on both. At best, there must be horse and
man, or boy, and, perhaps, cart, to go to the mill ;
and that, too, observe, in all weathers, and in the
harvest as well as at other times of the year. The
case is one of imperious necessity : neither floods
nor droughts, nor storms nor calms, will allay the
craving's of the kitchen, nor quiet the clamorous up-
roar of the stye. Go, somebody must, to some place
or other, and back they .must come with flour and
with meal. One summer many persons came down
the country more than fifty miles to a mill that I
knew in Pennsylvania; and I have known farmers
in England carry their grists more than fifteen miles
to be ground. It is surprising, that, under these cir-
cumstances, hand-mills and horse-mills should not,
long ago, have become of more general use ; espe-
cially when one considers that the labour, in this
case, would cost the farmer next to nothing. To
grind would be the work of a wet day. There is no
farmer who does not at least fifty days in every year

36 MAKING BREAD. [No.

exclaim, when he gets up in the morning, " What
shall I set them at to-day ?" If he had a mill, he
would make them pull off their shoes, sweep all out
clean, winnow up some corn, if he had it not already-
done, and grind and dress, and have every thing in
order. No scolding within doors about the grist ; no
squeaking in the stye ; no boy sent off in the rain to
the mill.

97. But there is one advantage which I have not
yet mentioned, and which is the greatest of all;
namely, that 70U Would hare the power of supplying
your married labourers ; your blacksmith's men
something ; your wheelwright's men at other times;
and, indeed, the greater part of the persons that you
employed, with i_r<>od floor, instead of their going to
purchase their Hour, alter it had passed through the
hands of a Com Merchant, a Miller, a Flour Mer-
chant, and a Huckster, every one of whom does and
must have a profit out of the flour, arising from wheat
grown upon, and sent away from, your very farm !
I used to let all my people have flour at the same
price that they would otherwise have been compelled
to give for worse flour. Even/ /' 11 under-
stand me when I say. that he ought to pay for nothing
in money, which he ran pay lor in any thing but
money. His maxim is to keep the money that he
takes as long as he can. Now here is a most effectual
way of putting that maxim in practice to a very great
extent. Farmers know well that it is the Satin
night which empties their pockets ; and here is the
means of cutting off a good half of the Satui
night. The men have better flour for the same mo-
ney, and still the farmer keeps at home those profits
which would go to the maintaining of the dealers in
wheat and in flour.

98. The maker of my little mill is Mr. Hill, of
Oxford-street. The expense is what I h;r

it to be. I, with my small establishment, find the
thing convenient and advantageous ; what then must
it be to a gentleman in the country who has room
and horses, and a considerable family to provide for?

III.] MAKING BREAD. 57

The dresser is so contrived as to give you at once,
meal, of four degrees of fineness ; . so that, for cer-
tain purposes, you may take the very finest ; and, in-
deed, you may have your flour, and your bread of
course, of what degree of fineness you please. But
there is also a steel mill, much, less expensive, re-
quiring less labour, and yet quite sufficient for a

family. Mills of this sort, very good, and at a rea-
sonable price, are to be had of Mr. Parkes, in Fen-
church-street, London. These are very complete
things of their kind. Mr. Parkes has, also, excellent
Malt-Mills.

99. In concluding this part of my Treatise, I can-
not help expressing my hope of being instrumental
in inducing a part of the labourers, at any rate, to
bake their own bread ; and, above all things, to aban-
don the use of " Ireland's lazy root." Nevertheless,
so extensive is the erroneous opinion relative to this
villanous root, that I really began to despair of check-
ing its cultivation and use, till I saw the declaration
which Mr. Wakefield had the good sense and the spirit
to make before the " Agricultural Committee." Be
it observed too, that Mr. Wakefield had himself made
a survey of the state of Ireland. What he saw there
did not encourage him, doubtless, to be an advocate for
the growing of this root of wretchedness. It is an
undeniable fact, that, in the proportion that this root
is in use, as a substitute for bread, the people are
wretched ; the reasons for which I have explained
and enforced a hundred times over. Mr. William
Hanning tuld the Committee that the labourers in
his part of Somersetshire were " almost wholly sup-
plied with potatoes, breakfast and dinner, brought
them in the fields, and nothing but potatoes ; and that
they used, in better times, to get a certain portion of
bacon and cheese, which, on account of their "pover-
ty, they do not eat now." It is impossible that men
can be contented in such a state of things : it is un-
just to desire them to be contented : it is a state of
misery and degradation to which no part of any com-

| inunity can have any show of right to reduce another

58 MAKING BREAD. [Xo.

part : men so degraded have no protection ; and it is
a disgrace to form part of a community to which
they belong. This degradation has been occasioned
by a silent change in the value of the money of the
country. Thia has purloined the wages of the la-
bourer; it has reduced him by degrees to house 1 with

ider and the bat, and to feed with the pi
has changed the habits, and, in a groat measu
character of the people. The sins of tan
enormous and undescribable; but, thank God! they
seem to he approaching to their end! Money is re-
suming its value, labour is recovering its price: let
it the wretched potatoe is disappearing,
and thai we. shall, once more, see the knife in the
labourer's hand and the loaf upon his board.

[This Wat written m 1821. AW (1823) we have
had th<' ( xperience of ls*j!>. when, for the first time,
onsiderable part of a people,
plunged into all the horrors of famine, at a moment
when the government of that nation declared food
to be abundant ! Yes, the year Ireland in

the people of whole parishes receiv-
ing th- preparatory to yielding up
their breath for want of food ; and this while large
exports of meal and flour were taking place in that
country ! Hut horrible as this v aceful as it
was to the name of Ireland, it was attended with
Sect : it brought out, from many members
of Parliament (in their places,) and from the public
in general, the acknowledgment, that the in isery and
lotion of the Irish were chiefly owing to the
use of the potatoe as the almost sole food of the
peo]>

100. In my next number I shall treat of the keeping
of cows. 1 Lave said that I will teach the cottager
how to keep a cow all the year round upon the pro-
duce of a quarter of an acre, or, in other words.
rod,s\ of land ; and, in my next, I will make good
my promise.

III."] MAKING BREAD. ^9

No. IV

MAKING BREAD — (CONTINUED.)

101. In the last number, at Paragraph 86, 1 observ-
ed that I hoped it was unnecessary for me to give
any directions as to the mere act of making bread.
But several correspondents' inform me that, without
these directions, a conviction of the utility of baking
bread at home is of no use to them. Therefore, I
shall here give those directions, receiving my in-
structions here from one, who, I thank God, does
know how to perform this act.

102. Suppose the quantity be a bushel of flour.
Put this flour into a trough that people have for the
purpose, or it may be in. a clean smooth tub of any
shape, if not too deep, and if sufficiently large.
Make a pretty deep hole in the middle of this heap
of flour. Take (for a bushel) a pint of good fresh
yeast, mix it and stir it well up in a pint of soft wa-
ter milk-warm. Pour this into the hole in the heap
of flour. Then take a spoon and work it round the
outside of this body of moisture so as to bring into
that body, by degrees, flour enough to make it form
a thin batter, which you must stir about well for a
minute or two. Then take a handful of flour and
scatter it thinly over the head of this batter, so as to
hide it. Then cover the whole over with a cloth to
keep it warm ; and this covering, as well as the si-
tuation of the trough, as to distance from the fire,
must depend on the nature of the place and state of
the weather as to heat and cold. When you per-
ceive that the batter has risen enough to make cracks
in the flour that you covered it over with, you begin
to form the whole mass into dough, thus : you begin
round the hole containing the batter, working the
flour into the batter, and pouring in, as it is wanted
to make the flour mix with the batter, soft water milk-
warm, or milk, as hereafter to be mentioned. Before
you begin this, yon scatter the salt over the heap at

60 MAKINO BREAD. [No.

the fate of half a pound to a bushel of flour. When
you have got the whole sufficiently moist, you knead
it well. This is a grand part 01 the business; for,
unless the dough be well worked, there will be little
round lumps of flour in the loaves ; and, besides, the
original batter, which is to s^ive fermentation to the
whole, will not be duly mixed. The dough must,
therefore, be well worked. The fists must go hear-
tilv into it. It must be rolled over; pressed out;
folded up and pressed out again, until it be com-
pletely mixed, and formed into a stiff and tough
'/i. TMa fa labour, mind. I have never quite
liked baker's bread since I saw a great heavy fellow,
in a bakehouse in France, kneading bread with his
>dfeet! His feet looked ite, to be sure:

whether they were of that colour before he got into
the trough I could not tell. God forbid, that I should
suspect that this is ever done in England! It is la-
bour ; but, what is exercise other than labour? Let a
young woman bake a bushel once a week, and she
will do very well without phials and gallipots.

103. Thus, then, the dough is made. And, when
made, it is to be formed into a lump in the middle of
the trough, and. with a little dry flour thinly scattered
over it, covered over again to be kept w^arm and to
ferment; and in this state, if all be done rightly, it
will not have to remain more than about 15 or 20
minutes.

101. In the mean while the oven is to be heated ;
and this is much more than half the art of the ope-
ration. When an oven is properly heated, can be
known only by actual observation. Women who
understand the matter, know when the heat is right
the moment they put their faces within a yard of the
oven-mouth ; and once or twice observing is enough
for any person of common capacity. But this much
may be said in the way of rule: that the fuel (I am
supposing a brick oven) should be dry (not rottenm
wood, and not mere brush-wood, but rather fagoU
sticks. If larger wood, it ought to be split up into
sticks not more than two. or two and a half inches

IV.] MAKING BREAD. 61

through. Bush-wood tliat is strong, not green and
not too old, if it be hard in its nature and has some
sticks in it, may do. The woody parts of furze, or
ling, will heat an oven very well. But the thing is,
to have a lively and yet somewhat strong fire ; so
that the oven may be heated in about 15 minutes, and
retain its heat sufficiently long.

105. The oven should be hot by the time that the
dough, as mentioned in Paragraph 103, has remained
in the lump about 20 minutes. When both are ready,
take out the fire, and wipe the oven out clean, and,
at nearly about the same moment, take the dough out
upon the lid of the baking trough, or some proper
place, cut it up into pieces, and make it up into loaves,
kneading it again into these separate parcels ; and,
as you go on, shaking a little flour over your board,
to prevent the dough from adhering to it. The loaves
should be put into the oven as quickly as possible
after they are formed ; when in, the oven-lid, or door,
should be fastened up very closely ; and, if all be pro-
perly managed, loaves of about the size of quartern
loaves will be sufficiently baked in about two hours.
But they usually take down the lid, and look at the
bread, in order to see how it is going on.

106. And what is there worthy of the name of
plague, or trouble, in all this ? Here is no dirt, no
filth, no rubbish, no litter, no slop. And, pray, what
can be pleasanter to behold? Talk, indeed, of your
pantomimes and gaudy shows ; your processions and
installations and coronations ! Give me, for a beau-
tiful sight, a neat and smart woman, heating her
oven and setting in her bread ! And, if the bustle
does make the sign of labour glisten on her brow,
where is the man that would not kiss that off, rather
than lick the plaster from the cheek of a duchess.

107. And what is the result ? Why, good? whole-
some food, sufficient for a considerable family for a
week, prepared in three or four hours. To get this
quantity of food, fit to be eaten, in the shape of po-
tatoes, hoxo many fires ! what a washing, what a
boiling, what a peeling, what a slopping, and what a

6

62 BREWING BEER. [No.

messing ! The cottage everlastingly in a litter ; the
woman's hands everlastingly wet and dirty ; the
children grimed up to the eyes with dust fixea on by
potato-starch ; and ragged as colts, the poor mother's
time all being devoted to the everlasting boilings of
the pot ! Can any man, who knows any thing of
labourer's life, deny this .? And will, then, any body,
pt tho old shulli s band of the Quarterly

Review, who bare all their lives been moving from

D the sun, and
never the dew except in print ; will any body except
these men say, that ihe :,rht to be taught to

use potatoes as >r bread ?

BREWING BEER.

108. This matter has been fully treated of in the
two last numbers. But several correspondents wish-
ing to fall upon some means of rendering the prac-
tice beneficial to those who are unable to purchase
brewing utensils, have recommended the lending of
thorn, or lotting out, round a neighbourhood. Another
correspondent has, therefore, pointed out to me an
Act of Parliament which touches upon this subject;
and, indeed, What of Excise Laws and Custom Laws
and Combination Laws and Libel Laws, a human
being in this country scarcely knows what he dares
do or what he dares say. What father, for instance,
would have imagined, that, having brewing utensils,
which two men carry from house to house as easily
as they can a basket, he dared not lend them, to his
son, living in the next street, or at the next door?
Yet such really is the law ; for, according to the Act
5th of the 22 and 23 of that honest and sincere gen-
tleman Charles II., there is a penalty of 50/. for lend-
ing or Letting brewing utensils. However, it has this
limit; that the penalty is confined to Cities, Corpo-
rate Toufns, and Market Towns, where there is a
public Brewhodse. So that, in the first place, you
may let, or lend, in any place where there is no pub-
lic brewhoiise; and in all towns not corporate or

IV.] BREWING BEER. 63

market, and in all villages, hamlets, and scattered
places.

109. Another thing is, can a man who has brewed
beer at his own house in the country, bring that beer
into town to his own house, and for the use of his

^family there? This has been asked of me. I can-
not give a positive answer without reading about
seven large volumes in quarto of taxing laws. The
best way would be to try it ; and, if any penalty, pay
it by subscription, if that would not come under the
law of conspiracy ! However, I think, there can be
no danger kere. So monstrous a thing as this can,
surely, not exist. If there be such a law, it is daily
violated ; for nothing is more common than for coun-
try gentlemen, who have a dislike to die by poison,
bringing their home-brewed beer to London.

1 10. Another correspondent recommends parishes
to make their own malt. But, surely, the landlords
mean to get rid of the malt and salt tax I Many
dairies, I dare say, pay 50/. a year each in salt tax.
How, then, are they to contend against Irish butter
and Dutch butter and cheese ? And as to the malt
tax, it is a dreadful drain from the land. I have heard
of labourers, living " in unkent places" making their
own malt, even now ! Nothing is so easy as to make
your own malt, if ypu were permitted. You soak
the barley about three days (according to the state of
the weather.) and then you put it upon stones or
bricks and keep it turned, till the root shoots out ;
and then to know when to stop, and to put it to
dry, take up a corn (which you will find nearly trans-
parent) and look through the skin of it. You will
see the spear, that is to say, the shoot that would
come out of the ground, pushing on towards the point
of the barley-corn. It starts from the bottom, where
the root comes out ; and it goes on towards the other
end ; an'd would, if kept moist, come out at that other
end when the root was about an inch long. So that,
when you have got the root to start, by soaking and
turning in heap, the spear is on its way. If you look
in through the skin, you will see it; and now observe;

64 KEEPING COW?. [No.

when the point of the spear has got along as far as
the middle of the barley-corn, you should take your
barley and dry it. How easy would every family,
and especially every farmer, do this, if it were not
for the punisnmeht attached to it ! The persons in
the "unkent places" before mentioned, dry the malt
in their oven ! But let us hope that the labourer will
soon be able to get malt without exposing himself to
punishment as a violater of the law.

KEEPING COWS.

111. As to the Use of milk and of that which pro-
ceeds from milk, in a family, very little need be said.
At a certain aire bread and milk are all that a child
wants. At a later aire they furnish one meal a day
for children. Milk is, at all seasons, good to dn

In the making of puddings, and in the making of
bread too, how useful is it ! Let any one who has
eaten none but baker's bread for a good while, taste
bread home-baked, mixed with milk instead oC with
water ; and he will find what the difference is. There
is this only to be observed, that in hot weather, bread
mixed with milk will not keep so long" as that mixed
with water. It will of course turn sour sooner.

112. Whether the milk of a cpw be to be consumed
by a cottage family in the shape of milk, or whether
it be to be made to yield butter, skim-milk, and butter-
milk, must depend on circumstances. A woman that
has no child, or only one, would, perhaps, find it best
to make tome butter at any rate. Besides, skim-milk
and bread (the milk being boiled) is quite strong food
enough for any children's breakfast, even when they
begin to go to work ; a fact which I state upon the
most ample and satisfactory experience, very seldom
having ever had any other sort of breakfast myself
till I was more than ten years old, and 1 was in the
fielcte at work full four years before that. I will here
mention that it gave me singular pleasure to see a
boy, just turned of six, helping his lather to reap, in
Sussex, this last summer. He did little, to be sure ;

IV.] KEEPING COWS. 65

but it was something. His father set him into the
ridge at a great distance before him ; and when he
came up to the place, he found a sheaf cut ; and, thbse
who know what it is to reap, know how pleasant it
is to find now and then a sheaf cut ready to their
hand. It was no small thing to see a boy fit to be
trusted with so dangerous a thing as a reap-hook in
his hands, at an age when "young masters" have
nursery-maids to cut their victuals for them, and to
see that they do not fall out of the window, tumble
down stairs, or run under carriage-wheels or horses'
bellies. Was not this father discharging his duty
by this boy much better than he would have been by
sending him to a place. called a school! The boy is
in a school here, and an excellent school too : the
school of useful labour. I must hear a great deal
more than I ever have heard, to convince me, that
teaching children to read tends so much to their hap-
piness, their independence of spirit, their manliness
of character, as teaching them to reap. The crea-
ture that is in want must be a slave ; and to be ha-
bituated to labour cheerfully is the only means of pre-
venting nineteen-twentieths of mankind from being
in want. I have digressed here ; but observations of
this sort can, in my opinion, never be too often re-
peated; especially at a time when all sorts of mad
projects are on foot, for what is falsely called edu~
eating the people, and when some would do this by
a tax that would compel the single man to give part
of his earnings to teach the married man's children
to read and write.

113. Before I quit the uses to which milk may be
put, let me mention, that, as mere drink, it is, unless
perhaps in case of heavy labour, better, in my opinion,
than any beer, however good. I have drinked little else
for the last five years, at any time of the day. Skim-
milk I mean. If you have not milk enough to wet
up your bread with (for a bushel of flour requires
about 16 to 18 pints,) you make up the quantity with
water, of course ; or, which is a Very good way, with
water that has been put, boiling hot, upon bran, and
6*

66 KKKPING C0W3. [No.

then drained off. This takes the goodness out of the
bran to be sure ; but really good bread is a thing of
so much importance, that it always ought to be the
very first object in domestic economy.

114. The cases vary so much, that it is impossible
to lay down rules for the application of the produce
of a cow, which rules shall lit all cases. I content
myself, therefore, with what !, id on
this subject ; and shall only make an observation on
the act of milking, before I come to the chief n
ter; namely, tl >od for the cow. A
cow should be milked dean. Not a drop, if it can be
avoided, should be left in the udder. It has been
proved that the half pint that comes out last has
firr/rr timet) I think it is, as much butter in it, as the
half pint that comes out Jirst. 1 tried the milk often
Alderney cows, and, as nearly as I, without being
very nice about the matter, could ascertain, I found
the difference to be about what I have stated. The
udder would seem to be a sort of milk-pan in which
the cream is uppermost, and, of course, comes out
last, seeing that the outlet is at the bottom. But, be-
sides this, if you do not milk clean, the cow will give
less and less milk, and will become dry much sooner
than she ought The cnuse of this 1 do not know,
but experience has long established the fact.

115. In providing food for a cow we must look,
first, at the sort of cow ; seeing that a cow of one
sort will certainly require more than twice as much
food as a cow of another sort. For a cottage, a cow
of the smallest sort common in England is, on every
account, the best ; and such a cow will not require
above 70 or 80 pounds of good moist food in the
twenty-four hours.

1 10. Now, how to raise this food on 40 rods of
ground is what we want to know. It frequently hap-
pens that a labourer has more than 40 rods of ground.
It more frequently happens, that he has some com-
mon, some lane, some little out-let or other, for a part
of the year, at least. In such cases he may make a
different disposition of his ground ; or may do with

IV.] KEEPING COWS. 67

less than the 40 rods. I am here, for simplicity's sake,
to suppose, that he have 40 rods of clear, un shaded
land, besides what his house and sheds stand upon ;
and that he have nothing further in the wray of means
to keep his cow.

117. I suppose the 40 rods to be clean and unshad-
ed ; for I am to suppose, that when a man thinks of
5 quarts of milk a day, on an average, all the year
round, he will not suffer his ground to be encumbered
by apple-trees that give him only the means of treat-
ing his children to fits of the belly-ache, or with cur-
rant and gooseberry bushes, which, though their fruit
do very well to amuse, really give nothing worthy of
the name of food, except to the blackbirds and thrush-
es. The ground is to be clear of trees ; and, in the
spring, we will suppose it to be clean. Then, dig it
up deeply, or, which is better, trench it, keeping, how-
ever, the top spit of the soil at the top. Lay it in
ridges in April or May about two feet apart, and
made high and sharp. When the weeds appear
about three inches high, turn the ridges into the fur-
rows {never moving the ground but in dry weather,')
and bury all the weeds. Do this as often as the
weeds get three inches high ; and by the fall, you wrilj.
have really clean ground, and not poor ground.

118. There is the ground then, ready. About the
26th of August, but not earlier, prepare a rod of
your ground ; and put some mmiure in it (for some
you must have,) and sow one half of it with Early
York Cabbage Seed, and the other half with Sugar-
loaf Cabbage Seed, both of the true sort, in little
drills at 8 inches apart, and the seeds thin in the
drill. If the plants come up at two inches apart (and
they should be thinned if thicker,) you will have a
plenty. As soon as fairly out of ground, hoe the
ground nicely, and pretty deeply, and again in a few
days. When the plants have six leaves, which will
be very soon, dig up, make fine, and manure another
rod or two, and prick out the plants, 4000 of each in
rows at eight inches apart and three inches in the
row. Hoe the ground between them often, and they

M KEEPING C [

will grow fast and be straight and strong. I suppose
thai for plant* take 4 rods of your ground.

Early in \ovember, or, as the weather mny serve, a
little earlier or later, lay some manure (oi* whicn I
shall say more hereafter) between the ridges, in the
other 36 rods, and turn the ridges over on this ma-
nure, and then transplant your plants on the rid
at 15 inches apart. Here they will stand the win;
and you must see that theslugs do not eat them. If
any plants fail, you have plenty in the bed where you
pr irk them out ; for your 36 rods will notYequire more
than 4000 plants. If the winter be very hard, and ba
for plants, you cannot cover 36 rods; but you may
th« b< ' where the rest of your plants are. A little
litter, or straw, or dead grass, or fern, laid along be-
tween the rows and the plants, not to cover the leaves,
will them completely. When people com-

plain of all their plants being " cut off" they have,
in fact nothing to complain of but their own extreme
carelessness. If I had a gardener who complained
of all his plants being cut off, I should cut him off
pretty quickly. If those in the 36 rods fail, or fail in
part, fill up their places, later in the winter, by plants
i the bed.

119. If you find the ground dry at the top during
the winter, hoe it, and particularly near the pin
and rout out all slugs and insects. And when March
comes, and the ground is dry, hoe deep and well, and
earth the plants up close to the lower leaves. As soon
as the plants begin to grow, dig the ground with a
spade clean and well, and let the spade go as near to
the plants as you can without actually displacing the
plants. Give them another digging in a month ; and,
if weeds come in the mean-while, hoe, and let not
one live a week. Oh ! " what a deal of work /"
Well ! but it is for yourself , and, besides, it is not all
to be done in a day ; and we shall by-and-by see what
it is altogether.

120. By the first of June ; I speak of the South of
England, and there is also some difference in seasons
and soils ; but, generally speaking, by the first of

IV.] KEEPING COWS. 69

June you will have turned-in cabbages, and soon
you will have the Early Yorks solid. And by the
first of June you may get your cow. one that is about
to calve, or that has just calved^ and at this time such
a cow as you will want will not, thank God, cost
above five pounds.

121. I shall speak of the place to keep her in, and
of the manure and litter, by-and-by. At present I
confine myself to her mere food. The 36 rods, if
the cabbages all stood till they got solid, would give
her food for 200 days, at 80 pounds weight per day,
which is more than she would eat. But you must
use some, at first, that are not solid ; and, then, some
of them will split before you can use them. But you
will have pigs to help off with them, and to gnaw
the heads of the stumps. Some of the sugar-loaves
may have been planted out in the spring ; and thus
these 36 rods will get you along to some time in Sep-
tember.

122. Now mind, in March, and again in April,
sow more Early Yorks, and get them to be fine stout
plants, as you did those in the fall. Dig up the
ground and manure it, and, as fast as you cut cab-
bages, plant cabbages ; and in the same manner and
with the same cultivation as before. Your last plant-
ing will be about the middle of August,- with stout
plants, and these will serve you into the month of
November.

123. Now we have to provide from December to
May inclusive ; and that, too, out of this same piece
of ground. In November there must be, arrived at
perfection, 3000 turnip plants. These, without the
greens, must weigh, on an average, 5 pounds, and
this, at 80 pounds a day, will. keep the cow 187 days;
and there are but 182 days in these six months. The
greens will have helped out the latest cabbages to
carry you through November, and perhaps into De-
cember. But for these six months, you must depend
on nothing but the Swedish turnips.

124. And now, how are these to be had upon the
same ground that bears the cabbages ? That we

70 KEEPING COWS. [\o.

are now going to see. When you plant out vour cab-
res at the out-set, put first a row of Early Yoi
i a row of Sugar-loaves, and so on throughout
the piece. Of course, as you are to use the Early
Yorks first, you will cut every other row ; and the
Early Yorks that you are to plant in summer will
go into the intervals. By-and-by the Sugar-loaves
are cut away, and in their place will come Swedish
turnips, you digging and manuring the ground as in
the case of the cab' id, at last, you will find

about 16 rods where you will have found it too late,
and ■/ ■// besides, to plant any second crop of

cabbages. Here the Swedish turnips will stand in
rows at two feet apart, (and always a foot apart in the
row,) and thus you will have three thousand turnips;
and if these do not weigh five pounds each on an
i age, the fault must be in the seed or in the man-
agement.

125. The Swedish turnips are raised in this man-
ner. You will bear in mind the four rods of ground
in which you have sowed and pricked out your cab-
bage plants. The plants that will be left there will,
in April, serve you for greens, if you ever eat any,
though bread and bacon are very good without greens,
and rather better than with. At any rate, the pig,
which has strong powers of digestion, will consume
this herbage; 1 n a part of these four rods you will, in
March and April, as before directed, have sown and
ed your Early Yorks for the summer planting.
Now, in the last week of May } prepare a quarter of a
rod of this ground, and sow it, precisely as directed
for the Cabbage-seed, with Swedish turnip-seed; and
sow a quarter of a rod every three days, till you have
red two rods. If the fir/ appear, cover the rows
over in the day-time with cabbage leaves, and take
the leaves off at night ; hoe well between the plai
and when they are safe from the fly, thin them to four
inches apart in the row. The two rods will give vou
nearly /ire thousand plants, which is 2000 more than
you will want. From this bed you draw your plants
to transplant in the ground where the cabbages have

IV.] KEEPING COWS. 71

stood, as before directed. You should transplant
none much before the middle of July, and not much
later than the middle of August. In the two rods^,
whence you take your turnip plants, you may leave
plants to come to perfection, at two feet distances
each way ; and this will give you over and above,
840 pounds weight of turnips. * For the other two
rods will be ground enough for you to sow your
cabbage plants in at the end of August, as directed
for last year.

126. I should now proceed to speak of the manner
of harvesting, preserving, and using the crops ; of the
manner of feeding the cow ; of the shed for her ; of the
managing of the manure, and several other less im-
portant things ; but these, for want of room here, must
be reserved for the beginning of my next Number.
After, therefore, observing that the Turnip plants
must be transplanted in the same way that Cabbage
plants are ; and that both ought to be transplanted in
dry weather and in ground just fresh digged, I shall
close this Number with the notice of two points which
I am most anxious to impress upon the mind of every
reader.

• 127. The first is, whether these crops give an ill
taste to milk and butter. It is very certain, that the
taste and smell of certain sorts of cattle-food will do
this ; for, in some parts of America, where the wild
garlick, of which the cows are very fond, and which,
like other bulbous-rooted plants, springs before the
grass, not only the milk and butter have a strong taste
of garlick, but even the veal, when the calves suck
milk from such sources. None can be more common
expressions, than, in Philadelphia market, are those
of Garlicky Butter and Garlicky Veal. I have
distinctly tasted the Whiskey in milk of cows fed on
distiller's wash. It is also certain, that, if the cow
eat putrid leaves of cabbages and turnips, the butter
will be offensive. And the white-turnip, which is at
best but a poor thing, and often half putrid, makes
miserable butter. The large cattle-cabbage, which,
when loaved hard, has a stronsr and even an offensive

72 KEEPING C0W3. [No.

smell, will give a bad taste and smell to milk and but-
ter, whether there be putrid leaves or not. If you boil
one of these rank cabbages, the wrater is extremely
offensive to the smell. But I Btate upon positive and
recent experience, that Early York and Sugar-loaf
Cabbages will yield as sweet milk and butter as any
food that can be give* to a cow. During this last
rammer, I have, with the exception about to be no-
ticed, kept, from the 1st of May to the 22d of October,

COWS upon the grass of two acres and a quarter of
grov . tomb being generally cut up for them

ii to them in the stall. I had in the spring
500U cabbage plants, intended for my piss, eleven in
number. But the pigs could not eat half their allow-
ance, though they were not very small when they be-

11 p. n it. We were compelled to resort to the aid
of the cows ; and, in order to see tlie effect on the milk
anil butter, we did not mLv the food ; but gave the
cows two distinct spells at the cabbages, each spell
about 10 days in duration. The cabbages were cut
off the Stump with little or no care about dead leaves.
And sweeter, finer butter, butter of a finer colour, than
these cabbages made, never was made in this world.
1 never had better from cows feeding in the sweetest

f>asture. Now, as to Swedish turnips, they do give a
ittle taste, especially if boiling of the milk pans be
neglected, and if the greatest care be not taken about
all the dairy tackle. Yet we have, for months to-
gether, had the butter so fine from Swedish turnips,
that nobody could well distinguish it from grass-but-
ter. But to secure this, there must be no sluttish)iess.
Churn; pans, pail, shelves, wall, floor, and all about
the dairy, must be clean ; and, above all things, the
pans must be boiled. However, after all, it is not
here a case of delicacy of smell so refined as to faint
at any thing that meets it except the stink of per-
fumes. If the butter do taste a little of the Swedish
turnip, it will do very well where there is plenty of
that sweet sauce which early rising and bodily labour
are ever sure to bring.

128. The other point (about which I am still

V.] KEEPING COWS. 73

anxious) is the seed ; for if the seed be not sound,
and especially if it be not true to its kind, all your
labour is in vain. It is best, if you can do it, to get
your seed from some friend, or some one that you
know and can trust. If you save seed, observe all
the precautions mentioned in my book on Gardening'.
This very year I have some Swedish turnips, so
called, about 7000 in number, and should, if my seed
had been true, have had about twenty tons weight ;
instead of which I have about three I Indeed, they
are not Swedish turnips, but a sort of mixture be-
tween that plant and rape. I am sure the seedsman
did not wilfully deceive me. He was deceived him-
self. The truth is, that seedsmen are compelled to
buy their seeds of this plant. Farmers save it ; and
they but too often pay very little attention to the
manner of doing it. The best way is to get a dozen
of fine turnip plants, perfect in all respects, and plant
them in a situation where the smell of the blossoms
of nothing of the cabbage or rape or turnip or even
charlock kind, can reach them. The seed will keep
perfectly good fox four years.

No. V
keeping cows — (continued.)

129. I have now, in the conclusion of this article,
to speak of the manner of harvesting and preserving
the Swedes ; of the place to keep the cow in; of the
manure for the land ; and of the quantity of labour
that the cultivation of the land and the harvesting of
the crop will require.

130. Harvesting and preserving the Swedes.
When they are ready to take up, the tops must be cut
off, if not cut off before, and also the roots ; but neither
tops nor roots should be cut off very close. You will
have room for ten bushels of the bidbs in the house, or
shed. Put the rest iwo ten-bushel heaps. Make the

7

74 KEEPING COWS. [No.

heap ttpon the ground in a round form, and let it rise
up to a point. Lay over it a little litter, straw, or dead
grass, about three inches thick, and then earth upon
that about six inches thick. Then cut a thin round
green turf, about eighteen inches over, and put it
upon the crown of the heap to prevent the earth from
being washed off. Thus these heaps will remain till
wanted for use. When given to the cow, it will be
best to wash the Swedes and cut each into two or
three piece* with a spade or some other tool. You
can take in ten bushels at a time. If you find them
sprouting in the spring, open the remaining heaps,
and expose them to the sun and wind ; and cover
them again slightly with straw or litter of some
sort.*

131. As to the place to keep the cow in, much will
depend upon situation and circumstances. I am al-
ways supposing that the cottage is a real cottage, and
not a house in a town or village street ; though,
wherever there is the quarter of an acre of ground,
the cow may be kept. Let me, however, suppose
that which will generally happen; namely, that the
cottage stands by the side ot a road, or lane, and
amongst fields and woods, if not on the side of a com-
mon. To pretend to tell a country labourer how to
build a shed for a cow, how to stick it up against the
end of his house, or to make it an independent erec-
tion ; or to dwell on the materials, where poles, rods,
wattles, rushes, furze, heath, and cooper-chips, are ail
to be gotten by him for nothing or next to nothing,
would be useless ; because a man who, thus situated,
can be at any loss for a shed for his cow, is not only un-
fit to keep a cow, but unfit to keep a cat. The warmer
the shed is the better it is. The floor should slope,
but not too much. There are stones, of some sort or
other, every- where, and about six wheel-barrow-fulls
will pave the shed, a thing to be by no means neglect-

* Be sure, now, before you go any further, to go to the end of
the book, and there read about Manolb Wurzi*. Be sure to do
this. And there read also about Cobbbtt's Corn. Be sure to do Urn
before you go any further.

V.] KEEPING COWS. 75

ed. A broad trough, or box, fixed up at the head of
the cow, is the thing to give her food in ; and she
should be fed three times a day, at least ; always at
day-light and at sun-set. It is not absolutely necessa-
ry that a cow ever quit her shed, except just at calving
time, or when taken to the bull. In the former case
the time is, nine times out of ten, known to within
forty-eight hours. Any enclosed field or place will
do lor her during a day or two ; and for such purpose,
if there be not room at home, no man will refuse place
for her in a fallow field. It will, however, be good,
where there is no common to turn her out upon, to
have her led by a string, two or three times a week,
which may be done by a child only five years old, to
graze, or pick, along the sides of roads and lanes.
Where there is a common, she will, of course, be turn-
ed out in the day time, except in very wet or severe
weather ; and in a case like this, a smaller quantity
of ground will suffice for the keeping of her. Accord-
ing to the present practice, a miserable " toilet" of
bad hay is, in such cases, the winter provision for the
cow. It can scarcely be called food ; and the conse-
quence is, the cow is both dry and lousy nearly half
the year ; instead of being dry only about fifteen days
before calving, and being sleek and lusty at the end
of the winter, to which a warm lodging greatly con-
tributes. For, observe, if you keep a cow, any time
between September and June, out in a field or yard,
to endure the chances of the weather, she will not,
though she have food precisely the same in quantity
and quality, yield above two-thirds as much as if she
were lodged in house ; and in wet weather she will
not yield half so much. It is not so much the cold
as the wet that is injurious to all our stock in England.
132. The Manure. At the beginning this must
be provided by collections made on the road ; by the
results of the residence in a cottage. Let any man
clean out every place about his dwelling ; rake and
scrape and sweep all into a heap ; and he will find
that he has a great deal. Earth of almost any sort
that has Ion % lain on the surface, and has been trod-

76 keeping cows. [No.

den on, is a species of manure. Every act that tends
to neatness round a dwelling, tends to the creating
of a mass of manure. And I have very seldom seen
a cottage, with a plat of ground of a quarter of an acre
belonging to it, round about which I could not have
collected a very large heap of manure. Every thing of
animal or substance that comes into a house,

must go out of in one shape or another. The

very emptying of vessels of various kinds, on a heap
of common earth, makes it a heap of the best of
manure. Thus goes on the work of reproduction ;
and thus is verified the words of the Scripture,
" Flesh is grass, and there is nothing new under the
*wn." Thus far as to the outset. When you have
got the cow, there is no more care about manure;
for, and especially if you have a pig also, you must
have enough annually for an acre of ground. And
let it be observed, that, after a time, it will be unne-
cessary, and would be injurious, to manure for every
crop; for that would produce more stalk and green
than substantial part ; as it is well known, that wheat
plants, standing in ground too full of manure, will
yield very thick and long straws, but grains of little
or no substance. You ought to depend more on the
spade and the hoe than on the dung-heap. Never-
theless, the greatest care should be taken to preserve
the manure ; because you will want straw, unless you
be by the side of a common which gives you rushes,
grassy furze, or fern ; and to get straw you must give
a part of your dung from the cow-stall and pig-sty.
The best way to preserve, manure, is to have a pit of
sufficient dimensions close behind the cow-shed and
pig-sty, for the run from these to go into, and from
which all runs of rain water should be kept. Into this
pit would go the emptying of the shed and of the sty.
and the produce of all sweepings and cleanings round
the house ; and thus a large mass of manure would
soon grow together. Much too large a quantity for
a quarter of an acre of ground. One good load of
wheat or rye straw is all that you would want for the
winter, and half of one for the summer ; and you

V.] KEEPING COWS. 77

would have more than enough dung to exchange
against tlfls straw.

1 33. Now, as to the quantity of labour that the
cultivation of the land will demand in a year. We
will suppose the whole to have Jive complete dig-
gings, and say nothing about the little matters of
sowing and planting and hoeing and harvesting, all
which are a mere trifle. We are supposing the owner
to be an able labouring man ; and such a man will
dig 12 rods of ground in a day. Here are 200 rods
to be digged, and here are little less than 17 days of
work at 12 hours in the day ; or 200 hours' work, to
be done in the course of the long days of spring and
summer, while it is li^ht lon^ before six in the morn-
ing, and long after six at night. What is it, then ?
Is it not better than time spent in the ale-house, or
in creeping about after a miserable hare ? Frequently,
and most frequently, there will be a boy, if not two,
big enough to help. And (I only give this as a hint)
I saw, on the 7th of November last (1822,) a very
pretty wommi, in the village of Hannington, in Will-
shire, digging a piece of ground and planting it with
Early Cabbages, which she did as handily and as
neatly as any gardener that ever I saw. The ground
was wet, and therefore, to avoid treading the digged,
ground in that state, she had her line extended, and
put in the rows as she advanced in her digging, stand-
ing in the trench while she performed the act of
planting, which she did with great nimbleness and
precision. Nothing could be more skilfully or beau-
tifully done. Her clothes were neat, clean, and tight
about her. She had turned her handkerchief down
from her neck, which, with the glow that the work
had brought into her cheeks, formed an object which
I do not say would have made me actually stop my
chaise, had it not been for the occupation in which
she was engaged ; but, all taken together, the temp-
tation was too strong to be resisted. But there is the
Sunday ; and I know of no law, human or divine,
that forbids a labouring man to dig or plant his gar-
den on Sunday, if the good of his family demand it ;
7*

7J, keeping cows. [No.

and if he cannot, without injury to that family, find
other time to do it in. Shepherds, carters, plgfeeders,
drovers, coachmen, cooks, footmen, printers, and nu-
merous others, work on the Sundays. Tneirs are
deemed by the law works of necessity. Harvesting
and haymaking are allowed to be carried on on the
Sunday, in certain cases ; when they are always
carried on by provident farmers. And I should be
glad to know the case which is more a case of ne-
cessity than that now under our view. In fact, the
labouring people do work on the Sunday morning in
particular, all over the country, at something or other,
or they are engaged in pursuits a good deal less reli-
gious than that of digging and planting. So that, as
to the 200 hours, they are easily found, without the loss
of any of the time required for constant daily labour.
134. And what a produce is that of a cow ! I sup-
pose only an average of 5 quarts of milk a day. If
made into butter, it will be equal every week to two
days of the marts wages, besides the value of the
skim milk : and this can hardly be of less value than
another day's wages. What a thing, then, is this
cow, if she earn half as much as the man ! I am
greatly under-rating her produce ; but I wish to put
all the advantages at the lowest. To be sure, there
is work for the wife, or daughter, to milk and make
butter. But the former is done at the two ends of
the day, and the latter only about once in the week.
And, whatever these may subtract from the labours
of the field, which all country women oiuht to be
engaged in whenever they conveniently can ; what-
ever the cares created by the cow may subtract from
these, is amply compensated for by the education
that these cares will give to the children. They will
all learn to milk,* and the girls to make butter. And

* To me the following has happened within the last year. A roan*
man, in the country. Ilftd auieed to h? ray servant : but it was "found
that he conld not milk ; and the barijjin was set aside. About a month
afterwards a ynunsj man, who said he w is a farmer's son, and who
came from Herefordshire, offered himself to me at Kensington. "Can
you milk?" H* could not; but would learn ! Ay, but in the learn-
ing, he might dry up my cows.' What a shame to the parents of
these young men ! Both of them were in want of employment. The

V.J KEEPING COWS. 79

which is a thing of the very first importance, they
will all learn, from their infancy, to set a just value
upon dumb animals, and will grow up in the habit
ol treating them with gentleness and feeding them
with care. To those who have not been brought up
in the midst of rural affairs, it is hardly possible to
give an adequate idea of the importance of this part
of education. I should be very loth to intrust the
care of my horses, cattle, sheep, or pigs, to any one
whose father never had cow or pig of his own. It is
a general complaint, that servants, and especially
farm-servants, are not so good as they used to be.
How should they ? They were formerly the sons
and daughters of small farmers ; they are now the
progeny of miserable property-less labourers. They
nave never seen an animal in which they had any
interest. They are careless by habit. This mon-
strous evil has arisen from causes which I have a
thousand times described ; and which causes must now
be speedily removed ; or, they will produce a disso-
lution of society, and give us a beginning afresh,

135. The circumstances vary so much, that it is
impossible to lay down precise rules suited to all cases.
The cottage may be on the side of a forest or com-
mon ; it may be on the side of a lane or of a great road,
distant from town or village ; it may be on the skirts
of one of these latter : and then, again, the family may
be few or great in number, the children small or big,
according to all which circumstances, the extent and
application of the cow-food, and also the application
of the produce, will naturally be regulated. Under
some circumstances, half the above crop may be
enough ; especially where good commons are at hand.
Sometimes it may be the best way to sell the calf as
soon as calved; at others, to fat it; and, at others, if
you cannot sell it, which sometimes happens, to knock
it on the head as soon as calved ; for, where there is
a family of small children, the price of a calf of two

latter had come more than a hundred miles in search of work ; and
here he was left to hunger still, and to be exposed to all sorts of ills,
because he could not milk.

*0 KEEPING COW?. [NO.

months old cannot be equal to the half of the value of
the two months' milk. It is pure weakness to call it
" a pity" It is a much greater pity to see hungry
children crying for the milk that a calf is sucking to
no useful purpose; and as to the cow and the calf, the
one must lose her young, and the other its life, after
all ; and the respite only makes an addition to the stif-
fs of both.
186. As to the pretended unwholesomeness of milk
ID certain cases ; as to its not being adapted to some
constitutions, I do not believe one word of the matter.
ten we talk of the fruits, indeed, which were for-
merly the chief food of a great part of mankind, we
should recollect, that those fruits grew in countries
that bad a ran to ripen the fruits, and to put nutritious
matter into them. But as to milk, England yields to
no country upon the face of the earth. Neat cattle
will touch nothing that is not wholesome in its nature ;
nothing that is not wholly innoxious. Out of a pail
that has ever had grease in it, they will not drink a
drop, though they be raging with thirst. Their very
breath is fragrance. And how. then, is it possible,
that unwholesomeness should distil from the udder of
a cow? The milk varies, indeed, in its quality and
taste according to the variations in the nature of the
food ; but no food will a cow touch that is any way hos-
tile to health. Feed young puppies upon milk from the
cow, and they will never die with that ravaging disease
called " the distemper." In short, to suppose that
milk contains any thing essentially unwholesome is
monstrous. When, indeed, the appetite become* vi-
tiated : when the organs have been long accustomed
to food of a more stimulating nature ; -when it has been
resolved to eat ragouts at dinner, and drink wine, and
to swallow "a devil," and a glass of strong grog at
night; then milk for breakfast may be "heavy9* and
disgusting, and the feeder may stand in need of tea or
laudanum, which differ only as to degrees of strength.
But, and I speak from the most ample experience,
milk is not "heavy" and much less is it unwholesome,
when he who uses it rises early, never swallowt

V.] KEEPING COWS. 81

strong drink, and never stuffs himself with flesh of
any kind. Many and many a day I scarcely taste of
meat, and then chiefly at breakfast, and that, too, at
an early hour. Milk is the natural food of young
people; if it be too rich, skim it again and again till
it be not too rich. This is an evil easily cured. If
you have now to begin with a family of children, they
may not like it at first. But persevere j and the parent
who does not do this, having the means in his hands,
shamefully neglects his duty. A son who prefers a
f devil " and a glass of grog to a hunch of bread and
a bowl of cold milk, I regard as a pest ; and for this
pest the father has to thank himself.

137. Before I dismiss this article, let me offer an
observation or two to those persons who live in the
vicinity of towns, or in towns, and who, though they
have large gardens, have "no land to keep a cow" a
circumstance which they " exceedingly regret." I
have. I dare say, witnessed this case at least a thou-
sand times. Now, how much garden ground does it
require to supply even a large family with garden
vegetables? The market gardeners round the metro-
polis of this wen-headed country; round this Wen of
all wens ; * round this prodigious and monstrous col-
lection of human beings ; these market gardeners have
about three hundred, thousand families to supply with
vegetables, and these they supply well too, and with
summer fruits into the bargain. Now, if it demanded
ten rods to a family, the whole would demand, all
but a fraction, nineteen thousand acres of garden
ground. We have only to cast our eyes over what
there is to know that there is not a fourth of that quan-
tity. A square mile contains, leaving out parts of a
hundred, 703 acres of land ; and 19,000 acres occupy
more than twenty-two square miles. Are there twenty-
two square miles covered with the Wen's market gar-
dens ? The very question is absurd. The whole ofthe
market gardens from Brompton to Hammersmith, ex-
tending to Battersea Rise on the one side, and to the
Bayswater road on the other side, and leaving out

* London.

82 KEEPING C0W3. [No.

Toads, lanes, nurseries, pastures, corn-fields, and plea-
sure-grounds, do not, in my opinion, cover one square
mile. To the north and south of the Wen there is very
little in the way of market garden; and if, on both sides
of the Thames, to the eastward of the Wen, there be
three square miles actually covered with market gar-
dens, that is the full extent. How, then, could the Wen
be supplied, if it required ten rods to each family ? To
be sure, potatoes, carrots, and turnips, and especially
the first of these, are brought, for the use of the Wen,
from a great distance, in many cases. But, so they
are for the use of the persons I am speaking of; for a
gentleman thinks no more of raising a large quantity
of these things in his garden, than he thinks of rais-
in W wheat there. How is it, then, that it requires half
an acre, or eighty rods, in a private garden to supply a
family, while these market gardeners supply all these
families (and so amply too) from ten, or more likely,
five rods of ground to a family? I have shown, in
the last Number, that nearly fifteen tons of vegetables
can be raised in a year upon forty rods of ground ;
that is to say, ten loads for a wagon and four good
horses. And is not a fourth, or even an eighth, part
of this weight, sufficient to go down the throats of a
family in a year? Nay, allow that only a ton goes to
a family in a year, it is more than six pound weight
a day; and what sort of a family must that be that
really swallows six pounds weight a day ? and this a
market gardener will raise for them upon less than
three rods of ground ; for he will raise, in the course
of the year, even more than fifteen tons upon forty
rods of ground. What is it, then, that thev do witn
the eighty rods of ground in a private garden ? Why,
in the first place, they have one crop where they outfit
to have three. Then they do not half till the ground.
Then they grow things that are not wanted. Plant
cabbages and other things, let them stand till they be
good for nothing, and then wheel them to the rubbish
heap. Raise as many radishes, lettuces, and as much
endive, and as#many kidney-beans, as would serve
for ten families ; and finally throw nine-tenths of

V.] KEEPING COWS. 83

them away. I once saw not less than three rods of
ground, in a garden of this sort, with lettuces all bear-
ing seed. Seed enough for half a county. They cut
a cabbage here and a cabbage there, and so let the
whole of the piece of ground remain undug, till the
last cabbage be cut. But, after all, the produce, even
in this way, is so great, that it never could be gotten
rid of, if the main part were not thrown away. The
rubbish heap always receives four-fifths even of the
eatable part of the produce.

138. It is not thus that the market gardeners pro-
ceed. Their rubbish heap consists of little besides
mere cabbage stumps. No sooner is one crop on the
ground than they settle in their minds what is to fol-
low it. They clear as they go in taking off a crop,
and, as they clear they dig and plant. The ground is
never without seed in it or plants on it. And thus, in
the course of the year, they raise a prodigious bulk of
vegetables from eighty rods of ground. Such vigi-
lance and industry are not to be expected in a servant;
for it is foolish to expect that a man will exert him-
self for another as much as he will for himself. But if
I was situated as one of the persons is that I have spo-
ken of in Paragraph 137 ; that is to say, if I had a gar-
den of eighty rods, or even of sixty rods of ground, I
would out of that garden, draw a sufficiency of vege-
tables for my family, and would make it yield enough
for a cow besides. I should go a short way to work
with my gardener. I should put Cottage Economy
into his hands, and tell him, that if he could furnish
me with vegetables, and my cow with food, he was
my man ; and that if he could not, I must get one that
could and would. I am not for making a man toil like
a slave ; but what would become of the world, if a
well-fed healthy man could exhaust himself in tilling
and cropping and clearing half an acre of ground ? I
have known many men dig thirty rods of garden
ground in a day ; I have, before I was fourteen, digged
twenty rods in a day, for more than ten days succes-
sively ; and I have heard, and believe the fact, of a
man at Portsea, who digged forty rods in one single

84 KEEPING PIGS. [NO.

day, between daylight and dark. So that it is no
•lavish toil that I am here recommending.

KEEPING PIGS.

139. Next after the Cow comes the Pig; and, in
many cases, where a cow cannot be kept, a pig or
pigs may be kept. But these are animals not to be
ventured on without due consideration as to the
means of feeding them ; for a starved pig is a great
deal worse than none at all. You cannot make ba-
con as you can milk, merely out of the garden. There
must be something )nore. A couple of flitches of ba-
con are worth fifty thousand Methodist sermons and
religious tracts. The sight of them upon the rack
tends more to keep a man from poaching and stealing
than whole volumes of penal statutes, though assisted
by the terrors of the hulks and the gibbet. They are
great softeners of the temper, and promoters of do-
mestic harmony. They are a great blessing; but
they are not to be had from herbage or roots of any
kind ; and, therefore, before a pig be attempted, the
means ought to be considered.

140. Breeding sows are great favourites with Cot-
tagers in general ; but I have seldom known them to
answer their purpose. Where there is an outlet, the
sow will, indeed, keep herself by grazing in summer,
with a little wash 10 help her out : and when her pigs
come, they are many in number ; but they are a heavy
expense. The sow must live as well as a. fatting
hog, or the pigs will be ^ood for little. It is a great
mistake, too, to suppose that the condition of the sow
previous to pigging is of no consequence ; and, in-
deed, some suppose, that she ought to be rather bare
offesh at the pigging time. Never was a greater
mistake; for if she be in this state, she presently be-
comes a mere rack of bones ; and then, do what you
will, the pigs will be poor things. However lat she
may be before she farrow, the pigs will make her lean
in a week. All her fat goes away in her milk, and
unless the pigs have a store to draw upon, they pull

V.] KEEPING PIGS. 85

her down directly ; and, by the time they are three
weeks old, they are starving for want ; and then they
never come to good.

141. Now, a cottager's sow cannot, without great
expense, be kept in a way to enable her to meet the
demands of her farrow. She may look pretty well ;
but the flesh she has upon her is not of the same na-
ture as that which the farm-yard sow carries about
her. It is the result of grass, and of poor grass, too,
or other weak food; and not made partly out of corn
and whey and strong wash, as in the case of the far-
mer's sow. No food short of that of a fatting hog
will enable her to keep her pigs alive ; and this she
must have for ten iveeks, and that at a great expense.
Then comes the operation, upon the principle of
Parson Malthus, in order to check population; and
there is some risk here, though not very great. But
there is the weaning; and who, that knows any thing
about the matter, will think lightly of the weaning
of a farrow of pigs ! By having nice food given them,
they seem, for a few days, not to miss their mother.
But their appearance soon shows the want of her.
Nothing but the very best food, and that given in the
most judicious manner, will keep them up to any
thing like good condition ; and, indeed, there is
nothing short of milk that will effect the thing well.
How should it be otherwise 1 The very richest cow's
milk is poor, compared with that of the sow; and, to
be taken from this and put upon food, one ingredient
of which is water, is quite sufficient to reduce the
poor little things to bare bones and staring hair, a
state to which cottagers' pigs very soon come in
general ; and, at last, he frequently drives them to
market, and sells them for less than the cost of the
food which they and the sow have devoured since they
were farrowed. It was, doubtless, pigs of this descrip-
tion that were sold the other day at Newbury market,
for fifteen pence a piece, and which were, I dare
sayj dear even as a gift. To get such a pig to begin
to grow will require three months, and with good
feeding too in winter time. To be sure it does come
8

86 KEEPING PIGS. [No.

to be a hog at last ; but, do what you can, it is a
dear hog.

142. The Cottager, then, can hold no competition
with the Farmer in the breeding of pigs, to do which,
with advantage, there must be milk, and milk, too,
that can be advantageously applied to no other use.
The cottager's pig must be bought ready weaned to
his hand, and, indeed, at four months oh/, at which
age, if he be in good condition, he will eat any-thing
that an old hog will eat. He will graze, eat cabbage
leaves, and almost the stumps. Swedisn turnip tops
or roots, and such things, with a little wash, will
keep him along in very good growing order. I have
now to speak of the time of purchasing, the manner
of keeping, of fatting, killing, and curing ; but these
1 must reserve till my next Number.

No. VI.
keeping pigs — (continued.)

143. As in the case of cows so in that of pigs,
much must depend upon the situation of the cottage;
because all pigs will graze; and therefore, on the
skirts of forests or commons, a couple or three pigs
may be kept, if the family be considerable ; and es-
pecially if the cottager brew his own beer, which will
give him grains to assist the wash. Even in lanes.
or on the sides of great roads, a pig will find a gooa
part of his food from May to November ; and if he be
yoked, the occupiers of the neighbourhood must be
churlish and brutish indeed, if they give the owner
any annoyance.

144. Let me break off here for a moment to point
out to my readers the truly excellent conduct of Lord
Winchilsea and Lord Stanhopk, who, as I read,
have taken mal pains to make the labourers on their
estates comfortable, by allotting to each a piece of
ground sufficient for the keeping of a cow. I once,

VI.] KEEPING PIGS. 87

when I lived at Botley, proposed to the copyholders
and other farmers in my neighbourhood, that we
should petition the Bishop of Winchester, who was
lord of the manors thereabouts, to grant titles to all
the numerous persons called trespassers on the wastes; -
and also to give titles to others of the poor parishion-
ers, who were willing to make, on the skirts of the
wastes, enclosures not exceeding an acre each. This
I am convinced, would have done a great deal towards
relieving the parishes, then greatly burdened by men
out of work. This would have been better than dig-
ging holes one day to fill them up the next. Not a
single man would agree to my proposal ! One, a bull-
frog farmer (now, I hear, pretty well sweated down,)
said it would only make them saucy ! And one, a
true disciple of Malthus, said, that to facilitate their
rearing of children was a harm ! This man had, at
the time, in his own occupation, land that had formerly
been six farms, and he had, too, ten or a dozen chil-
dren. I will not mention names ; but this farmer
will now, perhaps, have occasion to call to mind what
I told him on that day, when his opposition, and par-
ticularly the ground of it, gave me the more pain, as
he was a very industrious, civil, and honest man.
Never was there a greater mistake than to suppose
that men are made saucy and idle by just and kind
treatment. Slaves are always lazy and saucy ; no-
thing but the lash will extort from them either labour
or respectful deportment. I never met with a saucy
Yankee (New Englander) in my life. Never servile ;
always civil. This must necessarily be the character
of freemen living' in a state of competence. They
have nobody to envy ; nobody to complain of; they
are in good humour with mankind. It must, how-
ever, be confessed, that very little, comparatively-
speaking, is to be accomplished by the individual ef-
forts even of benevolent men like the two noblemen
before mentioned. They have a strife to maintain
against the general tendency of the national state of
things. It is by general and indirect means, and not
by partial and direct and positive regulations, that so

88 KEEPING PIGS. [No.

great a good as that which they generously aim at
can be accomplished. When we are to see such
means adopted, God only knows ; butj if much longer
delayed, I am oT opinion, that they will come too late
to prevent something very much resembling a disso-
lution of society.

145. The cottager's pig should be bought in the
spring, or late in winter; and being then four months
eld. hfl will he a year old before killing time; for it
should always be borne in mind, that this age is
required in order to insure the greatest quantity of
meat from a given quantity of food. If a hog be more
i a year old, he is the better for it. The flesh is
more solid and more nutritious than that of a young
bog, much in the same degree that the mutton of a
full-mouthed wether is better than that of a younger
wether. The pork or bacon of young hogs, even if
fatted on corn, is very apt to boil out, as they call it;
that is to say, come out of the pot smaller in bulk
than it goes in. When you begin to fat, do it by de-
grees, especially in the case of hogs under a year old.
If you feed high all at once, the hog is apt to surfeit,
and then a great loss of food takes place. Peas, or
barley-meal is the food ; the latter rather the best, and
does the work quicker. Make him quite fat by all
means. The last bushel, even if he sit as he eat, is
the most profitable. If he can walk two hundred
yards at a time, he is not well fatted. Lean bacon
is the most wasteful thing that any family can use.
In short, it is uneatable, except by drunkards, who
want something to stimulate their sickly appetite.
The man who cannot live on solid fat bacon, well-
fed and well-cured, wants the sweet sauce of labour,
or is tit for the hospital. But, then, it must be bacon*
the effect of barley or peas, (not beans.) and not of
whey, potatoes, or messes of any kind. It is frequent-
ly said, and 1 know that even farmers say it, that
bacon, made from corn, costs wore than it is worth!
Why do they take care to have it then ? They know
better. They know well, that it is the very cheapest
they can have ; and they, who look at both ends and

VI.] KEEPING PIGS. 89

both sides of every cost, would as soon think of shoot-
ing their hogs as of fatting them on messes ; that is
to say, for their own use, however willing they might
now-and-then be to regale the Londoners with a bit
of potato-pork.

146. About Christmas, if the weather be coldish,
is a good time to kill. If the weather be very mild,
you may wait a little longer ; for the hog cannot be
too fat. The day before killing he should have no
food. To kill a hog nicely is so much of a profes^
sion, that it is better to pay a shilling for having it
done, than to stab and hack and tear the carcass about.
I shall not speak of pork ; for I would by no means
recommend it. There are two ways of going to work
to make bacon ; in the one you take off the hair by
scalding. This is the practice in most parts of Eng-
land, and all over America. But the Hampshire way,
and the best way, is to burn the hair off. There is a
great deal of difference in the consequences. The
first method slackens the skin, opens all the pores of
it, makes it loose and flabby by drawing out the roots
of the hair. The second tightens the skin in every
part, contracts all the sinews and veins in the skin,
makes the flitch a solider thing, and the skin a better
protection to the meat. The taste of the meat is very
different from that of a scalded hog; and to this chiefly
it was that Hampshire bacon owed its reputation for
excellence. As the hair is to be burnt off it must be
dry, and care must be taken, that the hog be kept on dry
litter of some sort the day previous to killing. When
killed he is laid upon a narrow bed of straw, not
wider than his carcass, and only two or three inches
thick. He is then covered all over thinly with straw,
to which, according as the wind may be, the fire is
put at one end. As the straw burns, it burns the
hair. It requires two or three coverings and burnings,
and care is taken, that the skin be not in any part burnt,
or parched. When the hair is all burnt off close, the
hog is scraped clean, but never touched with water.
The upper side being finished, the hog is turned over,
and the other side is treated in like manner. This
8*

90 KEEPING PIGS. [NO.

work should always be done before day-light ; for in
the day-light you cannot so nicely discover whether
the hair be sufficiently burnt off. The light of the
fire is weakened by that of the day. Besides, it makes
the boys get up very early for once at any rate, and
that is something ; for boys always like a bonfire.

147. The inwards are next taken out, and if the
wife be not a slattern, here, in the mere offal, in the
men there is food, and delicate food too, (or
a larg* family for a week; and hog's puddings for
the children, and some for neighbours' children, who
come to play with them; for these things are by no
means to be overlooked, seeing that they tend to the
keeping alive of that affeciion in children for their
parents, which, later in life, will be found absolutely ne-
cessary to give effect to wholesome precept, especially
when opposed to the boisterous passions of youth.

148. The butcher, the next day, cuts the hog up;
and then the house is filled with meat! Souse, gris-
kins, blade-bone*, tiii^h-bones, spare-ribs, chines,
belly-pieces, cheeks, all coming into use one after the
other, and the last of the latter not before the end
of about four or five weeks. But about this time, it
is more than possible that the Methodist parson will
pay you a visit. It is remarked in America, that these
gentry are attracted by the squeaking of the pigs, as
the fox is by the cackling of the hen. This may be
called slander; but I will tell you what I did know
to happen. A good honest careful fellow had a spare-
rib, on which he intended to sup with his family after
a long and hard day's work at coppice-cutting. Home
he came at dark with his two little boys, each with
a nitch of wood that they had carried four miles,
cheered with the thought of the repast that awaited
them. In he went, found his wife, the Methodist
parson, and a whole troop of the sisterhood, engaged
in prayer, and on the table lay scattered the clean-
polished bones of the spare-rib ! Can anv reasonable
creature believe, that, to save the soul, God requires
us to give up the food necessary to sustain the body 1
Did Saint Paul preach this ? He, who, while he

VI.] KEEPING PIG8. 01

spread the gospel abroad, worked himself, in order to
have it to give to those who were unable to work?
Upon what, then, do these modern saints ; these evan-
gelical gentlemen, found their claim to live on the
labour of others.

149. All the other parts taken away, the two sides
that remain, and that are called flitches, are to be
cured for bacon. They are first rubbed with salt on
their insides, or flesh sides, then placed, one on the
other, the flesh sides uppermost, in a salting trough
whicn has a gutter round its edges to drain away the
brine; for, to have sweet and fine bacon, the flitches
must not lie sopping in brine; which gives it that sort
of taste which barrel-pork and sea-jonk have, and
than which nothing is more villanous. Every one
knows how different is the taste of fresh, dry salt,
from that of salt in a dissolved state. The one is
savoury, the other nauseous. Therefore, change the
salt often. Once in four or five days. Let it melt,
and sink in ; but let it not lie too long. Change the
flitches. Put that at bottom which was first put on the
top. Do this a couple of times. This mode will cost
you a great deal more in salt, or rather in taxes, than
the sopping mode; but without it, your bacon will
not be sweet and fine, and will not keep so well. As
to the time required for making the flitches-sufliciently
salt, it depends on circumstances ; the thickness of
the flitch, the state of the weather, the place wherein
the salting is going on. It takes a longer time for a
thick than for a thin flitch ; it takes longer in dry, than
in damp weather; it takes longer in a dry than in a
damp place. But for the flitches of a hog of twelve
score, in weather not very dry or very damp, about six
weeks may do ; and as yours is to be fat, which
receives little injury from over-salting, give time
enough ; for you are to have bacon till Christmas
comes again. The place for salting should, like a
dairy, always be cool, but always admit of a free cir-
culation of air : confined air, though cool, will taint
meat sooner than the mid-day sun accompanied with
si breeze. Ice will not melt in the hottest sun so soon

92 KEEPING PIGS. [No.

as in a close and damp cellar. Put a lump of ice in
cold water, and one ot the same size before a hotJirey
and the former will dissolve in half the time that the
latter will. Let me take this occasion of observing,
that an ice-house should never be under ground, or
under the shade of trees. That the bed of it ought
to be three feet above the level of the ground ; that
this bed ought to consist of something that will admit
the drippings to go instantly off; and that the house
should stand in a place open to the sun and air. This
is the way they have the ice-houses under the burn-
ing sun of Virginia ; and here they keep their fish and
meat as fresh and sweet as in winter, when at the
same time neither will keep for twelve hours, though
let down to the depth of a hundred feet in a well.
A Virginian, with some poles and straw, will stick
up an ice-house for ten dollars, worth a dozen of those
ice-houses, each of which costs our men of taste as
many scores of pounds. It is very hard to imagine,
indeed, what any one should want ice /or, in a country-
like this, except for clodpole boys to slide upon, and to
drown cockneys in skaiting-time ; but if people must
have ice in summer, they may as well go a right way
as a wrong way to get it.

150. However, the patient that I have at this time
under my hands wants nothing to cool his blood, but
something to warm it, and, therefore, I will get back
to the flitches of bacon, which are now to be smoked;
for smoking is a great deal better than merely drying,
as is the fashion in the dairy countries in the West of
England. When there were plenty of ^arm-houses,
there were plenty of places to smoke bacon in; since
farmers have lived in gentleman's houses, and the
main part of the farm-houses have been knocked
down, these places are not so plenty. However, there
is scarcely any neighbourhood without a chimney left
to hang bacon up in. Two precautions are necessary :
first, to hang the flitches where no rain comes down
upon them : second, not to let them be so near the fire
as to melt. These precautions taken, the next is, that
the smoke must proceed from wood, not turf, peat, or

VI.] KEEPING PIGS. 08

coal. Stubble or litter .might do ; but the trouble would
be great. Fir, or deal, smoke is not fit for the pur-
pose. I take it, that the absence of wood, as fuel, in
the dairy countries, and in the North, has led to the
making of pork and dried bacon. As to the time that
it requires to smoke a flitch, it must depend a good
deal upon whether there be a constant fire beneath,
and whether the fire be large or small. A month may-
do, if the fire be pretty constant, and such as a farm-
house fire usually is. But over smoking, or, rather,
too long hanging in the air, makes the bacon rust
Great attention should, therefore, be paid to this
matter. The flitch ought not be dried up to the hard-
ness of a board, and yet it ought to be perfectly dry.
Before you hang it up, lay it on the floor, scatter the
flesh-side pretty thickly over with bran, or with some
fine saw-dust other than that of deal or fir. Rub it
on the flesh, or pat it well down upon it. This keeps
the smoke from getting into the little openings, and
makes a sort of crust to be dried on ; and, in short,
keeps the flesh cleaner than it would otherwise be.

151. To keep the bacon sweet and good, and free
from nasty things that they call hoppers; that is to
say, a sort of skipping maggots, engendered by a fly
which has a great relish for bacon : to provide against
this mischief, and also to keep the bacon from be-
coming rusty, the Americans, whose country is so
hot in summer, have two methods. They smoke no
part of the hog except the hams, or gammons. They
cover these with coarse linen cloth such as the finest
hop-bags are made of, which they sew neatly on.
They then white-wash the cloth. all over with lime
white-wash, such as we put on walls, their lime be-
ing excellent stone-lime. They give the ham four or
five washings, the one succeeding as the former gets
dry; and in the sun, all these washings are put on in
a few hours. The flies cannot get through this ; and
thus the meat is preserved from them. The other
mode, and that is the mode for you, is, to sift fine
some clean and dry wood-ashes. Put some at the
bottom of a box, or chest, which is long enough to

94 KEEPING PIGS. [NO.

hold a flitch of bacon. Lay in one flitch ; then put
in more ashes ; then the other flitch ; and then cover
this with six or eight inches of the ashes. This will
effectually keep away all flies; and will keep the
bacon as fresh and good as when it came out of the
chimney, which it will not be for any great length of
time, if put on a rack, or kept hung up in the open air.
Dust, or even sand, very, very dry, would, perhaps,
do as well. The object is not only to keep out tne
flies, but the air. The place where the chest, or box.
is kept, ought to be dry ; and, if the ashes should
get damp (as they are apt to do from the salts they
contain,) they should be put in the fire-place to dry,
and then be put back again. Peat-ashes, or turf-ashes,
might do very well tor this purpose. With these
precautions, the bacon will be as good at the end of
the year as on the first day ; and it will keep two, and
even three years, perfectly good, for which, however,
there can be no necessity.

152. Now, then, this ho? is altogether a capital
thing. The other parts wifl be meat for about four
or five weeks. The lard, nicely put dowiij will last
a long while for all the purposes tor which it is wanted.
To make it keep well there should be some salt put
into it. Country children are badly brought up if
they do not like sweet lard spread upon bread, as we
spread butter. Many a score hunches of this sort
have I eaten, and I never knew what poverty was. I
have eaten it for luncheon at the houses of good sub-
stantial tamers in France and Flanders. I am not
now frequently so hungry as I ought to be ; but I
should think it no hardship to eat sweet lard instead
of butter. But, n>w-a-days, the labourers, and espe-
cially the female part of them, have fallen into the
M in food and finery in dress ; a quarter
of a belly ful and rags are the consequence. The food
of their choice is high-priced, so that, for the greater
part of their time, they are half-starved. The dress
of their choice is showy and flimsy, so that, to-day,
they are ladies, and to-morrow ragged as sheep with
the scab. But has not Nature made the country girls

VI.] KEEPING PIG9. 95

as pretty as ladies 1 Oh, yes ! (bless their rosy cheeks
and white teeth !) and a great deal prettier too ! But
are they less pretty, when their dress is plain and
substantia], and when the natural presumption is,
that they have smocks as well as gowns, than they
are when drawn off in the frail fabric of Sir Robert
Peel,* " where tawdry colours strive with dirty white,"
exciting violent suspicions that all is not as it ought
to be nearer the skin, and calling up a train of ideas
extremely hostile to that sort of feeling which every
lass innocently and commendably wishes to awaken
in her male beholders? Are they prettiest when they
come through the wet and dirt safe and neat; or when
their draggled dress is plastered to their backs by a
shower of rain ? However, the fault has not been
theirs, nor that of their parents. It is the system of
managing the affairs of the nation. This system
has made all flashy and false, and has put all things
out of their place. Pomposity, bombast, hyperbole,
redundancy, and obscurity, both in speaking and in
writing ; mock-delicacy in manners ; mock-liberality,
mock-humanity, and mock-religion. Pitt's false mo-
ney, Peel's flimsy dresses, Wilberforce's potatoe diet,
Castlereagh's and Mackintosh's oratory, Walter
Scott's poems, Walter's and Stoddart'sf paragraphs,
with all the bad taste and baseness and hypocrisy
which they spread over this country; all have arisen,
grown, branched out, bloomed, and borne together;
and we are now beginning to taste of their fruit. But,
as the fat of the adder is, as is said, the antidote to
its sting ; so in the Son of the great worker of Spinning-
Jennies, we have, thanks to the Proctors and Doctors
of Oxford, the author of that Bill, before which this
false, this flashy, this flimsy, this rotten system will
dissolve as one of his father's pasted calicoes does at
the sight of the washing-tub.

133. " What," says the cottager, "has all this to do
with hogs and bacon ?" Not directly with hogs and

* The father of the present Sir Robert Peel, who gained his fortune as
a cotton weaver by the help of machinery.

* Editors of the Tendon Times Newspaper.

96 KEEPING PIGS. [NO.

bacon, indeed ; but it has a great deal to do, my good
fellow with your affairs, as I shall, probably, hereafter
more fully show, though I shall now leave you to
the enjoyment of your flitches of bacon, which, as I
before observed, will do ten thousand times more than
any Methodist parson, or any other parson (except, of
course, those of our church) to make you happy, not
only in this world, but in the world to come. MoA
in the house is a great source of harmony, a great
preventer of the temptation to commit those things,
which, from small beginnings, lead, finally, to the
most fatal and atrocious results ; and I hold that
doctrine to be tru'y damnable, which teaches that
God has made any selection, any condition relative to
belief, which is to save from punishment those who
violate the principles of natural justice,

154. Some other meat you may have ; but, bacon
is the great thing. It is always ready ; as good cold
as hot ; goes to the field or the coppice conveniently;
in harvest, and other busy times, demands the pot to
be boiled only on a Sunday ; has twice as much
strength in it as any other thing of the same weight;
and in short, has in it every quality that tends to
make a labourer's family able to work and well off.
One pound of bacon, such as that which I have de-
scribed, is, in a labourer's family, worth four or five
of ordinary mutton or beef, which are great part bone,
and whicn, in short, are gone in a moment. But
always observe, it is fat bacon that I am talking
about. There will, in spite of all that can be done,
be some lean in the gammons, though comparatively
very little; and therefore you ought to begin at that
end of the flitches ; for, old lean bacon is not good.

155. Now, as to the cost. A pig (a spayed soio is
best) bought in March four months old, can be had
now for fifteen shillings. The cost till fatting time
is next to nothing to a Cottager ; and then the cost,
at the present price of corn, would, for a hog of
twelve score, not exceed three pounds ; in the whole

four pounds five ; a pot of poison a week bought
at the public-house comes to twenty-six shillings

VI.] SALTING MUTTON AND BEEF. 97

of the money ; and more than three times the re-
mainder is generally flung away upon the miserable
tea, as I have clearly shown in the First Number, at
Paragraph 24. I have, indeed, there shown, that
if the tea were laid aside, the labourer might supply
his family well with beer all the year round, and have
a fat hog of even fif 'teen score for the cost ofthe4ec,
which does him and can do him no good at all.

156. The feet, the cheeks, and other bone, being
considered, the bacon and lard, taken together, would
not exceed sixpence a pound. Irish bacon is " cheap-
er." Yes, lower^priced. But, I will engage that a
pound of mine, wnen it comes out of the pot (to say
nothing of the taste,) shall weigh as much as a pound
and a half of Irish, or any dairy or slop-fed bacon,
when that comes out of the pot. No, no : the far-
mers joke when they say, that their bacon costs them
more than they could buy bacon for. They know
well what it is they are doing; and besides, they
always forget, or, rather, remember not to say, that
the fatting of a large hog yields them three or four
load of dung, really worth more than ten or fifteen of
common yard dung. In short, without hogs, farming
could not go on; and it never has gone on in any coun-
try in the world. The hogs are the great stay of the
whole concern. They are much in small space;
they make no show, as flocks and herds do ; but with
out them, the cultivation of the land would be a poor,
a miserably barren concern.

SALTING MUTTON AND BEEF.

157. VER Y FAT Mutton may be salted to great
advantage, and also smoked, and may be kept thus a
long while. Not the shoulders and legs, but the back
of the sheep. I have never made any flitch of sheep~
bacon ; but I will ; for there is nothing like having
a store of meat in a house. The running to the butch-
ers daily is a ridiculous thing. The very idea of being
fed, of a family being fed, by daily supplies, has some-
thing in it perfectly tormenting. One half of the

9

98 BEES, FOWLS, AC &C [Na

time of a mistress of a house, the affairs of which are
carried on in this way, is taken up in talking about
what is to be got for dinner, and in negotiations with
the butcher. One single moment spent at table be-
yond what is absolutely oeccHQiy, i<a moment very
shamefully spent; but, to sutler b system of domestic
economy, which unnecessarily wastes daily an hour
or two of the mistress's time in hunting for the pro-
vi inn for the repaM. is a shame indeed; and when
we consider how much time is _ fan this

and in equally absurd ways, it is no wonder thai are
see so little performed by numerous individuals as
they do perform daring the course of their li'

158. Very fat parts of Beef may be salted and smo-
bed in a like manner. Not the lean ; fort]
waste, and is, in short, good for nothing. Poor fel-
lows on board of ships are compelled to eat it, but it
is a very bad thing.

No. VII.

BEES, FOWLS, AC. AC.

159. I now proceed to treat of objects of less impor-
tance than (he foregoing, but still such as may be
worthy of gteal attention. If all of them cannot be
expected to come within the scope of a labourers fami-
ly, some of them must, and others may : and it is al-
ways of great consequence, that children be brought
up to set a just value upon all useful thin
pecially upon all living things j to know the utility
of them: for. without this, they never, when g
up, are worthy of being entrusted with the care of
them. One of the greatest, and, perhaps, the very
commonest, fault of servants, is their inadequate care
of animals committed to their charge. It is a well-
known saying that u the master3 8 eye makes the horse
fat," and the remissness to which this alludes, is gene-
rally owing to the servant not having been brou_
to feel an interest in the well-being of animals.

VII.] BEES. 99

160. It is not my intention to enter into a history
of this insect about which so much has been written,
especially by the French naturalists. It is the useful
that I shall treat of, and that is done in not many
words. The best hives are those made of clean un-
blighted rye-straw. Boards are too cold in England.
A swarm should always be put into a new hive, and
the sticks should be new that are put into the hive for
the bees to work on ; for, if the hive be old, it is not
so wholesome, and a thousand to one but it contain the
embryos of moths and other insects injurious to bees.
Over the hive itself there should be a cap of thatch,
made also of clean rye straw ; and it should not only
be new when first put on the hive ; but a new one
should be made to supply the place of the former one
every three or four months ; for when the straw be-
gins to get rotten, as it soon does, insects breed in it,
its smell is bad, and its effect on the bees is dangerous.

161. The hive should be placed on a bench, the
legs of which mice and rats cannot creep up. Tin
round the legs is best. But even this will not keep
down ants, which are mortal enemies of bees. To
keep these away, if you find them infest the hive,
take a green stick and twist it round in the shape of a
ring to lay on the ground round the leg of the bench,
and at a few inches from it ; and cover this stick with
tar. This will keep away the ants. If the ants come
from one home, you may easily trace them to it ; and
when you have found it, pour boiling water on it in
the night, when all the family are at home.

This is the only effectual way of destroying ants,
which are frequently so troublesome. It would be
cruel to cause this destruction, if it were not neces-
sary to do it, in order to preserve the honey, and in-
deed the bees too.

162. Besides the hive and its cap, there should be
a sort of shed, with top, back, and ends, to give addi-
tional protection in winter ; though in summer hives
may be kept too hot, and in that case the bees become

100 BEES. [No.

sickly and the produce becomes light. The situation
of the hive is to face the South-east ; or, at any rate,
to be sheltered from the North and the West. From
the North always, and from the West in winter. If
it be a very dry season in summer, it contributes
greatly to the success of the bees, to place clear water
near their home, in a thing that they can conveniently
drink out of; for if they have to go a great way for
drink, they have not much time for work.

103. It is supposed that bees live only a year; at
any rate it is best never to keep the same stall, or
family, over two years, except you want to increase
your number of hives. The swarm of this summer
should always be taken in the autumn of next year.
It is whimsical to save the bees when you take the
honey. You must feed them ; and, if saved, they
will die of old age Sefore the next fall ; and thougn
young ones will supply the place of the dead, this is
nothing like a good swrarm put up during the summer.

164. As to the things that bees make their collec-
tions from, we do not, perhaps, know a thousandth
part of them ; but of all the blossoms that they seek
eagerly that of the Buck-wheat stands foremost. Go
round a piece of this grain just towards sunset, when
the buck-wheat is in bloom, and you will see the air
filled with bees going home from it in all directions.
The buck-wTheat, too, continues in bloom a long while ;
for the grain is dead ripe on one part of the plant,
while there are fresh blossoms coming out on the
other part.

165. A good stall of bees, that is to say, the pro-
duce of one, is always worth about two bushels of
good wheat. The cost is nothing to the labourer.
He must be a stupid countryman indeed who cannot
make a bee-hive ; and a lazy one indeed if he will
not, if he can. In short, there is nothing but care
demanded ; and there are very few situations in the
country, especially in the south of England, where a
labouring man may not have half a dozen stalls of
bees to take every year. The main things are to keep
away insects, mice, and birds, and especially a little

VII.] GEESE. 101

bird called the bee-bird ; and to keep all clean and
fresh as to the hives and coverings. Never put a
swarm into an old hive. If wasps, or hornets, annoy
you, watch them home in the day time ; and in the
night kill them by fire, or by boiling water. Fowls
should not go where bees are, for they eat them.

166. Suppose a man get three stalls of bees in a
year. Six bushels of wheat give him bread for an
eighth part of the year. Scarcely any thing is a
greater misfortune than shiftlessness. It is an evil
little short of the loss of eyes or of limbs.

167. They can be kept to advantage only where
there are green commons, and there they are easily
kept ; live to a very great age ; and are amongst the
hardiest animals in the world. If well kept, a goose
will lay a hundred eggs in a year. The French put
their eggs under large hens of common fowls, to
each of which they give four or five eggs ; or under
turkies, to which they give nine or ten goose-eggs.
If the goose herself sit, she must be well and regu-
larly fed, at, or near to, her nest. When the young
ones are hatched, they should be kept in a warm
place for about four days, and fed on barley-meal,
mixed, if possible, with milk ; and then they will be-
gin to graze. Water for them, or for the old ones
to swim in, is by no means necessary, nor, perhaps,
ever even useful. Or, how is it, that you see such fine
flocks of fine geese all over Long Island (in America)
where there is scarcely such a thing as a pond or a
run of water?

168. Geese are raised by grazing ; but to fat them
something more is required. Corn of some sort, or
boiled Swedish turnips. Some corn and some raw
Swedish turnips, or carrots, or white cabbages, or
lettuces, make the best fatting. The modes that are
resorted to by the French for fatting geese, nailing
them down by their webs, and other acts of cruelty,
are, I hope, such as Englishmen will never think of.

9*

102 GEESE. [No.

They will get fat enough without the use of any of
these unfeeling means being employed. He who can
deliberately inflict torture upon an animal, in order
to heighten the pleasure his palate is to receive in
eating it, is an abuser of the authority which God
has given him, and is, indeed, a tyrant in his heart.
Who would think himself at the mt

such a man ? Since the first edition of this work
was published, I have had a good deal of experience
with regard to geese. It is a very great error to sup-
pose that what is called a Michaelmas goose is the
thing. Geese are, in general, eaten at the age when
they are called green geese ; or after they have got
their full and entire growth, which is not until the
latter part of October. Green geese are tasteless
squabs ; loose flabby things ; no rich taste in them ;
and, in short, a very indifferent sort of dish. The
full-grown goose has solidity in it ; but it is liard, as
well as solid ; and in place of being rich, it is strong.
Now, there is a middle course to take ; and if you
take this course, you produce the finest birds of which
we can know any thing in F.n^land. For three years,
including the present year, I have had the finest
that 1 ever saw, or ever heard of. I have bought
from twenty to thirty every one of these years. I
buy them on the common late in June, or very early
in July. They have cost me from two shillings to
three shillings each, first purchase. I bring the flock
home, and put them in a pen, about twenty feet
square, where I keep them well littered with straw,
so as for them not to get filthy. They have one
trough in which I give them dry oats, and they have
another trough where they have constantly plenty of
clean water. Besides these, we give them, two or
three times a day, a parcel of lettuces out of the gar-
den. We give them such as are going to seed gene-
rally ; but the better the lettuces are, the better the
geese. If we have no lettuces to spare, we give them
cabbages, either loaved or not loaved ; though, ob-
serve? the white cabbage as well as the white lettuce,
that is to say, the loaved cabbage and lettuce, are a

VII.] GEESB. 103

great deal better than those that are not loaved. This
is the food of my geese. They thrive exceedingly
upon this food. After we have had the flock about
ten days, we begin to kill, and we proceed once or
twice a week till about the middle of October, some-
times later. A great number of persons who have
eaten of these geese have all declared that they did
not imagine that a goose could be brought to be so
good a bird. These geese are altogether different
from the hard, strong things that come out of the
stubble fields, and equally different from the flabby
things called a green goose. 1 should think that the
cabbages or lettuces perform half the work of keep-
ing and fatting my geese ; and these are things that
really cost nothing. I should think thai the geese,
upon an average, do not consume more than a shil-
ling's worth of oats each. So that we have these
beautiful geese for about four shillings each. No
money will buy me such a goose in London ; but the
thing that I can get nearest to it, will cost me seven
shillings. Every gentleman has a garden. That
garden has, in the month of July, a wagon-load, at
least, of lettuces and cabbages to throw away. No-
thing is attended with so little trouble as these geese.
There is hardly any body near London that has not
room for the purposes here mentioned. The reader
will be apt to exclaim, as my friends very often do,
" Cobbett's Geese are all Swans.1'' Well, better that
way than not to be pleased with what one has. How-
ever, let gentlemen try this method of fatting geese.
It saves money, mind, at the same time. Let them
try it ; and if any one, who shall try it, shall find the
effect not to be that which I say it is, let him reproach
me publicly with being a deceiver. The thing is no
invention of mine. While I could buy a goose off
the common for half-a-crown, I did not like to give
seven shillings for one in London, and yet I wished
that geese should not be excluded from my house.
Therefore I bought a flock of geese, and brought them
home to Kensington. They could not be eaten all
at once. It was necessary, therefore, to fix upon a

104 DUQ£S. [No.

mode of feeding them. The above mode was adopt-
ed by my servant, as far as I know, without any
knowledge of mine ; but the very agreeable result
made me look into the matter ; and my opinion, that
the information will be useful to many persons, at
any rate, is sufficient to induce me to communicate
it to my readers.

DUCKS.

109. No water, to swim in, is necessary to the old,
and is injurious to the very young. They never should
be suffered to swim (if water be near) till more than
a month old. The old duck will lay, in the year, if
well kept, ten dozen of eg^s ; ami that is her best em-
ployment ; for common hens are the best mothers.
It is not good to let young ducks out in the morning
to eat slugs and worms ; for, though they like them,
these things kill them if they eat a great quantity.
Grass, corn, white cabbages, and lettuces, and espe-
cially buck-wheat, cut, when half ripe, and (tang down
in tin* haulm. This makes fine ducks. Ducks will
feed on garbage and all sorts of filthy things ; but
their flesh is strong, and bad in proportion. They
are, in Long bland, fatted upon a coarse sort off
called a horse-foot fish, prodigious quantities of which
are cast on the shores. The young ducks grow
very fast upon this, and very fat; but wo unto him
that has to smell them when they come from the spit ;
and, as for eating them, a man must have a stomach
indeed to do that !

170. When young, they should be fed upon barley-
meal, or curds, and kept in a warm place in the night-
time, and not let out early in the morning. They
should, if possible, be kept from water to swim in. It
always does them harm ; and, if intended to be sold
to be killed youngfo they should never go near ponds,
ditches, or streams. When you come to fat ducks,
you must take care that they get at no filth whatever.
They will eat garbage of all sorts; they will suck
down the most nauseous particles of all those sub-

VII.] TURKEY9. 105

stances which go for manure. A dead rat three parts
rotten is a feast to them. For these reasons I should
never eat any ducks, unless there were some mode of
keeping them from this horrible food. I treat them
precisely as I do my geese. I buy a troop when they
are young, and put them in a pen, and feed them upon
oats, cabbages, lettuces, and water, and have the place
kept very clean. My ducks are, in consequence of
this, a great deal more fine ana delicate than any
others that I know any-thing of.

TURKEYS.

171. These axe flying things, and so are common
fowls. But it may happen that a few hints respecting
them may be of use. To raise turkeys in this chilly
climate, is a matter of much greater difficulty than in
the climates that give great warmth. But the great
enemy to young turkeys (for old ones are hardy
enough) is the wet. This they will endure in no
climate ; and so true is this, that, in America, where
there is always " a wet spell" in April, the farmers'
wives take care never to have a brood come out until
that spell is passed. In England? where the wet
spells come at haphazard, the first thing is to take care
that young turkeys never go out, on any account, ex-
cept in dry weather, till the dew be quite off the
ground ; and this should be adhered to till they get to
be of the size of an old partridge, and have their backs
well covered with feathers. And, in wet weather,
they should be kept under cover all day long.

172. As to the feeding of them, when young, va-
rious nice things are recommended. Hard eggs chop-
ped fine, with crumbs of bread, and a great many
other things ; but that which I have seen used, and
always with success, and for all sorts of young poul-
try, is milk turned into curds. This is the food for
young poultry of all sorts. Some should be made fresh
every day ; and if this be done, and the young turkeys
kept warm, and especially from wet, not one out of
a score will die. When they get to be strong, they

106 TURKEYS. [No.

may have meal and grain, but still they always love
the curds.

173. When they get their head feathers they are
hardy enough ; and what they then want is room to
prowl about. It is best to breed them under a com-
mon hen ; because she does not ramble like a hen-
turkey ; and it is a very curious thing that the turkeys
bred up by a hen of the common fowl, do not th>
xi'/ns nimble much irhen they ifct tthl ; and for this
reason, when tiny buy turkeys for stock, in America,
(where there are such large woods, and where the
distant rambling of turkeys is inconvenient.) they
always buy such as have been bred under the hens of
the common fowl ; than which a more complete proof
of the great powers 01 habit is, perhaps, not to be
found. And ought not this to be a lesson to fathers
and mothers of families ? Ought not they to consider
that the habits which they give their children are to
stick by those children during their whole lives?

174. The hen should be fed e, '// irr//, too,
while she is sitting and offer she has hatched; for
though she does not give milk, she gives teal; and,
let it be observed, that as no man ever yet saw healthy
pigs with a poor sow, so no man ever saw healthy
chickens with a poor hen. This is a matter much
too little thought of in the rearing of poultry ; but it
is a matter of the greatest consequence. Never let a
poor hen sit; feed the hen well while she is sitting,
and feed her most abundantly when she has young
ones ; for then her labour is very great ; she is ma-
king exertions of some sort or other during the whole
twenty-four hours; she has no rest; is constantly
doing something or other to provide food or safety
for her young ones. »

175. As to fatting turkeys, the best way is, never
to let them be poor. Cramming is a nasty thing,
and quite unnecessary. Barley-meal, mixed with
skim-milk, given to them, fresh and fresh, will make
them fat in a short time, either in a coop, in a house,
or running about. Boiled carrots and Swedish tur-
nips will help, and it is a change of sweet food. In

VII.] FOWLS. 107

France they sometimes pick turkeys alive, to make
them tender ; of which I shall only say, that the man
that can do this, or order it to be done, ought to be
skinned alive himself.

FOWLS.

176. These are kept for two objects ; their flesh
and their eggs. As to rearing them, every thing said
about rearing turkeys is applicable here. They are
best fatted, too, in the same manner. But, as to Zay-
ing-hens, there are some means to be used to secure
the use of them in winter. They ought not to be old
hens. Pullets, that is, birds hatched in the foregoing
spring, are, perhaps, the best. At any rate, let them
not be more than two years old. They should be kept
in a warm place, and not let out, even in the day-time,
in wet weather ; for one good sound wetting will keep
them back for a fortnight. The dry cold, even in the
severest cold, if dry, is less injurious than even a little
wet in winter-time. If the feathers get wet, in our
climate, in winter, or in short days, they do not get
dry for a long time ; and this it is that spoils and kills
many of our fowls.

177. The French, who are great egg-eaters, take
singular pains as to the food of laying-hens in winter.
They let them out very little, even in their fine
climate, and give them very stimulating food ; barley
boiled, and given them warm ; curds, buck-wheat,
(which, I believe, is the best thing of all except curds;)
parsley and other herbs chopped fine ; leeks chopped in
the same way; also apples and pears chopped very
fine ; oats and wheat cribbled ; and sometimes they
give them hemp-seed, and the seed of nettles ; or dried
nettles, harvested in -summer, and boiled in the
winter. Some give them ordinary food, and, once a
day, toasted bread sopped in wine. White cabbages
chopped up are very good in winter for all sorts of
poultry.

178. This is taking a great deal of pains ; but the
produce is also great and very valuable in winter ; for,

108 fowls. [No.

as to preserved eggs, they are things to run from and
not after. All this supposes, however, a proper hen-
house, about which wre, in England, take very little
pains. The vermin, that is to say, the lice, that
poultry breed, are the greatest annoyance. And as
our wet climate furnishes them, for a great part of the
year, with no dust by which to get rid of these vermin,
we should be very careful about cleanliness in the hen-
houses. Many a hen, when sitting, is compelled to
quit her nest to get rid of the lice. They torment the
young chickens. And, in short, are a great injury.
The fowl-house should, therefore, be very often clean-
ed out ; and sand, or fresh earth, should oe thrown on
the floor. The nest should not be on shelves, or on
any-thing fixed ; but little flat baskets, something like
those that the gardeners have in the markets in Lon-
don, and which they call sieves, should be placed
against the sides of tne house upon pieces of wood
nailed up for the purpose. By this means the nests
are kept perfectly clean, because the baskets are, when
necessary, taken down, the hay thrown out, and the
baskets washed ; which cannot be done, if the nest be
made in any-thing forming a part of the building. Be-
sides this, the roosts ought to be cleaned every week,
and the hay changed in the nests of laying-hens. It is
good to fumigate the house frequently by burning dry
herbs, juniper wood, cedar wood, or with brimstone ;
for nothing stands so much in need of cleanliness as
a fowl-house, in order to have fine fowls and plenty
of eggs.

179. The ailments of fowls are numerous, but they
would seldom be seen, if the proper care were taken.
It is useless to talk of remedies in a case where vou
have complete power to prevent the evil. If well fed,
and kept perfectly clean, fowls will seldom be sick ;
and, as to old age, they never ought to be kept more
than a couple or three years ; for they get to be good
for little as layers, and no teeth can face them as food.

180. It is, perhaps, seldom that fowls can be kept con-
veniently about a cottage ; but when they can, three,
four, or half a do?en hens to lay in winter, when th«

VII.] FOWLS. 109

wife is at home the greater part of the time, are worth
attention. They would require but little room, might
be bought in November and sold in April, and six of
them, with proper care, might be made to clear every
week the price of a gallon of flour. If the labour
were great, I should not think of it; but it is none;
and I am for neglecting nothing in the way of pains
in order to ensure a hot dinner every day in winter,
when the man comes home from work. As to the
fatting' of fowls, information can be of no use to those
who live in a cottage all their lives ; but it may be of
some use to those who are born in cottages, and go to
have the care of poultry at richer persons' houses.
Fowls should be put to fat about a fortnight before
they are wanted to be killed. The best food is bar-
ley-meal wetted with milk, but not wetted too much.
They should have clear water to drink, and it should
be frequently changed. Crammed fowls are very nasty
things : but " barn-door " fowls, as they are called,
are sometimes a great deal more nasty. Barn-door
would, indeed, do exceedingly well ; but it unfortu-
nately happens that the stable is generally pretty near
to the barn. And now let any gentleman who talks
about sweet barn-door fowls, have one caught in
the yard, where the stable is also. Let him have it
brought in, killed, and the craw taken out and cut open.
Then let him take a bail of horse-dung from the stable-
door; and let his nose tell him how very small is
the difference between the smell of the horse-dung,
and the smell of the craw of his fowl. In short, roast
the fowl, and then pull aside the skin at the neck, put
your nose to the place, and you will almost think that
you are at the stable door. Hence the necessity of
taking them away from the barn-door a fortnight, at
least, before they are killed. We know very well that
ducks that have been fed upon fish, either wild ducks, or
tame ducks, will scent a whole room, and drive out of it
all those who have not pretty good constitutions. It
must be so. Solomon says that all flesh is grass ; and
those who know any-thing about beef, know the differ-
ence between the effect of the grass in Herefordshire
10

110 PIGEONS. [No.

and Lincolnshire, and the effect of turnips and oil cake.
In America they always take the fowls from the farm-
yard, and shut them up a fortnight or three weeks
before they be killed. One thing, however, about
fowls ought always to be borne in mind. They are
never good for any-thing when they have attained
their full growth, unless they be capons or poullards.
It the poulets be old enough to have little eggs in them,
they are not worth one farthing; and as to the cocks
of the same age, they are fit for nothing but to make
soup for soldiers on tneir march, and they ought to be
taken for that purpose.

181. A few of these may be kept about any cottage,
for they are kept even in towns by labourers and arti-
zans. They cause but little trouble. They take care
of their own young ones; and they do not scratch,
or do any other mischief in gardens. They want
feeding with tar iall beans; and buck-
wheat is very good for them. To begin keeping them,
they must not hi \ at large before you get
them. You must keep them for two or three days, shut
into the place which is to be their home; and then
they may be let out, and will never leave you, as long
as they can get proper food, and are undisturbed by
vermin, or unannoyed exceedingly by lice.

182. The common dove-house pigeons are the best
to keep. They breed oftenest, and feed their young
ones best. They begin to breed at about nine months
<»/</. and if well kept, they will give you eight or nine
pair in the year. Any little place, a shelf in the cow
shed ; a board or two under the eaves of the house ;
or, in short, any place under cover, even on the ground
floor, they will sit and hatch and breed up their young
ones in.

183. It is not supposed that there could be much
profit attached to them ; but they are of this use; they
are very pretty creatures; very interesting in their
manners ; they are an object to delight children, and

VII.] RABBITS. Ill

to give them the early habit of fondness for animals
and of setting a value on them, which, as I have
often had to observe before, is a very great thing. A
considerable part of all the property of a nation con-
sists of animals. Of course a proportionate part of
the cares and labours of a people appertain to the
breeding and bringing to perfection those animals;
and, if you consult your experience, you will find that
a labourer is, generally speaking, of value in propor-
tion as he is worthy of being intrusted with the care
of animals. The most careless fellow cannot hurt
a hedge or ditch ; but to trust him with the team, or
the flock, is another matter. And, mind, for the man to
be trust-worthy in this respect, the boy must have been
in the habit of being kind and considerate towards
animals; and nothing is so likely to give him that ex-
cellent habit as his seeing, from his very birth, animals
taken great care of, and treated with great kindness
by his parents, and now-and-then having a little thing
to call his own.

184. In this case, too, the chief use, perhaps, is to
give children those habits of which I have been just
speaking. Nevertheless, rabbits are really profitable.
Three does and a buck will give you a rabbit to eat for
every three days in the year, which is a much larger
quantity of food than any man will get by spending
half his time in the pursuit of wild animals, to say
nothing of the toil, the tearing of clothes, and the
danger of pursuing the latter.

185. Every-body knows how to knock up a rabbit
hutch. The does should not be allowed to have more
than seven litters in a year. Six young ones to a doe
is all that ought to be kept ; and then they will be
fine. Abundant food is the main thing ; and what is
there that a rabbit will not eat ? I know of nothing
green that they will not eat ; and if hard pushed, they
will eat bark, and even wood. The best thing to feed
the young ones on when taken from the mother, is

1 12 RABBITS. [NO.

the carrot, wild or garden. Parsnips, Swedish turn
roots of dandelion ; for too much green or watery staff
is not good for weaning rabbits. They should remain
as long as possible with the mother. They should
have oats once a-day; and, after a time, they may
eat any-thing with safety. But if you pre them too
much green at first when they are weaned, they rot
as sheep do. A variety of food is i mg; and,

surely, the field- and gardens and hedges furnish this
variety ! All sorts of grasses, strawberry-leaves, ivy,
dandelions, the hog-weed or wild parsnip, in root,
stem, and leaves. 1 have fed working horses, six or
eight in number, upon this plant for weeks together.
It is a tall bold plant that grows in prodigious quan-
tities in the hedges and coppices in some parts of
England. It is the perennial parsnip. It has flower
and seed precisely like those of the parsnip; and
hogs, cows, and horses, are equally fond of it. Many
a half-starved pig have I seen witnin a few yards of
cart-loads of this pi^-meat ! This arises from want
of the early habit of attention to such matters. I.
who used to get h for pigs and for rabbits

when a little chap, have never forgotten that the wild
parsnip is good food for pigs and rabbits.

186. When the doe has young ones, feed her most
abundantly with all sorts of greens and herbage and
with carrots and the other things mentioned before,
besides giving her a lew oats once a-day. That is the
way to have tine healthy youn^ ones, which, if they
come from the mother in good case, will very seldom
die. But do not think, that because she is a small
animal, a little feeding is sufficient! Rabbits eat a
great deal more than cows or sheep in proportion to
their bulk.

187. Of all animals rabbits are those that boys are
most fond of. They are extremely pretty, nimble in
their movements, engaging in their attitudes, and al-
ways completely under immediate control. The pro-
duce has not long to be waited for. In short, they keep
an interest constantly alive in a little chap's mind; and
they really cost nothing; for as to the oats, where is

VII.] GOATS AND EWES. 113

the boy that cannot, in harvest-time, pick up enough
along the lanes to serve his rabbits lor a year? The
care is all ; and the habit of taking care of things is,
of itself, a most valuable possession.

188. To those gentlemen who keep rabbits for the
use of their family (and a very useful and convenient
article they are,) I would observe, that when they
find their rabbits die, they may depend on it, that
ninety-nine times out of the hundred starvation is
the malady. And particularly short feeding of the
doe, while, and before she has young ones; that is
to say, short feeding of her at all times ; for, if she
be poor, the young ones will be good for nothing.
She will live being poor, but she will not, and cannot
breed up fine young ones.

GOATS AND EWES.

189. In some places where a cow cannot be kept,
a goat may. A correspondent points out to me, that
a Dorset ewe or two might be kept on a common near
a cottage to give milk ; and certainly this might be
done very well ; but I should prefer a goat, which is
hardier and much more domestic. When I was in
the army, in New Brunswick, where, be it observed,
the snow lies on the ground seven months in the year,
there were many goats that belonged to the regiment,
and that went about with it on shipboard and every-
where else. Some of them had gone through nearly
the whole of the American War. We never fed them.
In summer they picked about wherever they could
find grass ; and in winter they lived on cabbage-leaves,
turnip-peelings, potatoe-peelings, and other things
flung out of the soldiers' rooms and huts. One of these
goats belonged to me, and, on an average throughout
the year, she gave me more than three half-pints of
milk a day. I used to have the kid killed when a few
days old ; and, for some time, the goat would give
nearly or quite, two quarts of milk a day. She was
seldom dry more than three weeks in the year.

190. There is one great inconvenience belonging

10*

114 GOATS AND EWE3. [No.

to goats ; that is they bark all young trees that they
come near ; so tnat, if they get into a garden, they
destroy every thing. But there are seldom trees on
commons, except such as are too large to be injured
by goats ; and I can see no reason against keeping a

foat where a cow cannot be kept. Nothing is so
ardy ; nothing is so little nice as to its food. Goats
will pick peelings out of the kennel and eat them.
They will cat mouldy bread or biscuit; fusty hay,
and almost rotten straw ; furze-bushes, heath-thistles ;
and, indeed, what will they not eat, when they will
make a hearty meal on paper, brown or white, printed
on or not printed on, and give milk all the while !
They will lie in any dog-hole. They do very well
clogged, or stumped out. And, then, they are very
liealthy things into the bargain, however closely they
may be confined. When sea voyages are so stormy
as to kill geese, ducks, fowls, and almost pigs, the
goats are well and lively ; and when a dog of no kind
can keep the deck for a minute, a goat will skip about
upon it as bold as tan

191. Goats do not ramble from home. They come
in regularly in the evening, and if called, they come
like dogs. Now, though ewes, when taken great care
of, will be very gentle, and though their milk may be
rather more delicate than that of the goat, the ewes
must be fed with nice and clean food, and they will
not do much in the milk-ixivin^ way upon a common ;
and, as to feeding Mum. provision must be made pret-
ty nearly as for a cow. They will not endure con-

merit like goats; and they are subject to nume-
rous ailments that goats know nothing of. Then the
ewes are done by the time they are about six years
old ; for they then lose their teeth ; whereas a goat will
continue to breed and to give milk in abundance for a
great many years. The sheep is frightened at every-
thing, and especially at the least sound of a dog. A
goat, on the contrary, will face a dog, and if he be
not a big and courageous one, beat him off.

192. I have often wondered how it happened that
none of our labourers kept goats ; and I really should

VIL] CANDLES AND RUSHES. 115

be glad to see the thing tried. They are pretty crea-
tures, domestic as a dog, will stand and watch, as a
dog does, for a crumb of bread, as you are eating ;
give you no trouble in the milking ; and I cannot help
being of opinion, that it might be of great use to in-
troduce them amongst our labourers.

CANDLES AND RUSHES.

193. We are not permitted to make candles our-
selves, and if we were, they ought seldom to be used
in a labourer's family. I was bred and brought up
mostly by rush-light, and I do not find that I see less
clearly than other people. Candles certainly were
not much used in English labourers' dwellings in the
days when they had meat dinners and Sunday coats.
Potatoes and taxed candles seem to have grown into
fashion together ; and, perhaps, for this reason : that
when the pot ceased to afford grease for the rushes,
the potatoe-gorger was compelled to go to the chand-
ler's shop for light to swallow the potatoes by, else
he might have devoured peeling and all !

194. My grandmother, who lived to be pretty nearly
ninety, never, I believe, burnt a candle in her house
in her life. I know that I never saw one there, and
she, in a great measure, brought me up. She used
to get the meadow-rushes, such as they tie the hop-
shoots to the poles with. She cut them when they
had attained their full substance, but were still green.
The rush at this age, consists of a body of pith with
a green skin on it. You cut off both ends of the
rush, and leave the prime part, which, on an average,
may be about a foot and a half long. Then you take
off all the green skin, except for about a fifth part
of the way round the pith. Thus it is a piece of pith
all but a little strip of skin in one part all the way up,
which, observe, is necessary to hold the pith together
all the way along.

195. The rushes being thus prepared, the grease
is melted, and put in a melted state into something
that is as long as the rushes are. The rushes are

116 MUSTARD. [No.

put into the grease ; soaked in it sufficiently ; then
taken out and laid in a bit of bark taken from a young
tree, so as not to be too large. This bark is fixed up
against the wall by a couple of straps put round it ;
and there it hangs for the purpose 01 holding the
rushes.

196. The rushes are carried about in the hand ;
but to sit by, to work by, or to go to bed by, they are
fixed in stands made for the purpose, some of which
are high to stand on the ground, and some low, to
stand on a table. These stands have an iron port
something like a pair of pliers to hold the rush in,
and the rush is shifted forward from time to time, as
it burns down to the thing that holds it.

197. Now these rushes give a better light than a
common small dip-candle; and they cost next to
nothing, though the labourer may with them have as
much Light as he pleases, and though, without them
he must sit the far greater part of the winter evenings
in thedark, even it he i :xp nd fifteen shillings a year
in candles. You may do any sort of work by
light; and, if reading be your taste, you may read
foul libels, the lies and abuse, which are circul;
gratis about me by the " Society for promoting
Christian Knowledge," as well by rush-light, as you
can by the light of taxed candles; and, at any r
you would have one evil less ; for to be deceived and
to pay a tax for the deception are a little too much
for even modern loyalty openly to demand.

mustard.

198. Why buy this, when you can grdw it in your
garden ? The stuff you buy is *half drugs; and is
injurious to health. A yard square of ground, sown
with common Mustard, the crop of which you would
grind for use, in a little mustard-mill, as you wanted
it, would save you some money, and probably save
your life. Your mustard would look brown instead
of yellow; but the former colour is as good as the
latter : and, as to the taste, the real mustard has cer-

VII.] DRESS, HOUSEHOLD GOODS, AND FUEL. 117

tainly a much better than that of the drugs and flour
which go under the name of mustard. Let any one
try it, and I am sure he will never use the drugs
again. The drugs, if you take them freely, leave a
burning at the 'pit of your stomach, which the real
mustard does not.

DRESS, HOUSEHOLD GOODS, AND FUEL.

199. In Paragraph 152, I said, I think, enough to
caution you, the English labourer, against the taste,
now too prevalent, for fine and flimsy dress. It was,
for hundreds of years, amongst the characteristics
of the English people, that their taste was, in all
matters, for things solid, sound, and good ; for the
useful, and decent, the cleanly in dress, and not for
the showy. Let us hope that this may be the taste
again ; and let us, my friends, fear no troubles, no
perils, that may be necessary to produce a return of
that taste, accompanied with full bellies and warm
backs to the labouring classes.

200. In household goods, the warm., the strong, the
durable, ought always to be kept in view. Oak tables,
bedsteads and stools, chairs of oak or of yew tree,
and never a bit of miserable deal board. Things of
this sort ought to last several lifetimes. A labourer
ought to inherit from his great grandfather something
besides his toil. As to bedding, and other things of
that sort, all ought to be good in their nature, of a
durable quality, and plain in their colour and form.
The plates, dishes, mugs, and things of that kind,
should be of pewter, or even of wood. Any-thing
is better than crockery-ware. Bottles to carry a-field
should be of wood. Formerly, nobody but the gyp-
sies and mumpers, that went a hop-picking in the
season, carried glass or earthen bottles. As to glass
of any sort, I do not know what business it has in
any man's house, unless he be rich enough to live
on his means. It pays a tax, in many cases, to the
amount of two-thirds of its cost. In short, when a
house is once furnished with sufficient goods, there

118 HOPS.

ought to be no renewal of hardly any part of them
wanted for half an age, except in case of destruction
by fire. Good management in this way leaves the
man's wages to provide an abundance of good food
and good raiment; and these are the things that
make happy families; these are the things that make
a good, kind, sincere, and brave people; not little
pamphlets about " loyalty " and " A good

man will be contented fast enough, if he be fed and
clad sufficiently ; but if a man be not well fed and
clad, he is a base wretch to be contented.

901. Fuel should be, if possible, provided in
■tar, or at least some of it. Turt and peat must
be got in Hummer, and some w In the

woodland countries, the next wi lit to be

thought of in June, when people hardly know \
to do with the fuefwood ; and something should, if
possible, be saved in the bark-harvest to get a pari
the furl tor the next winter. Fire is a capital article.
To have no fire, or a bad fire, to sit by, is a most dis-
mal thing. In such a state man and wife must be
something out of the common way to be in good hu-
mour with inch other, to say nothing of colds and
Other ailn rich are the natural consequence of

such misery. If we suppose the great Creator to
condescend to survey his works in detail, what object

he so pleasing to him as that of the labourer, ;i
his return from the toils of a cold winter da-
with his wife and children round a cheerful fire, v.
the wind whistles in the chimney and the rain pelts
the roof ? But, of all God's creation, what is so miser-
able to behold or to think of as a wretched, half-
starved family creeping to their nest of flocks or straw,
there to lie shivering, till sent forth by the fear of ab-
solutely expiring from want 1

202. I treateo of them before ; but before I con-
clude this little Work, it is necessary to speak of them
again. I made a mistake as to the tajr on the Hops.

VII.] YEAST. 119

The positive tax is 2d. a pound, and I (in former
editions) stated it at 4d. However, in all such cases,
there falls upon the consumer the expenses attending
the paying of the tax. That is to say, the cost of
interest of capital in the grower who pays the tax,
and who must pay for it, whether his hops be cheap
or dear. Then the trouble it gives him, and the
rules he is compelled to obey in the drying and bag-
ging, and which cause him great expense. So that
the tax on hops of our own English growth, may
now be reckoned to cost the consumer about 3-J-d. a
pound.

yeast.

203. Yeast is a great thing in domestic manage-
ment. I have once before published a receipt for
making yeast-cakes, I will do it again here.

204. In Long Island they make yeast-cakes. A
parcel of these cakes is made once a year. That is
often enough. And, when you bake, you take one
of these cakes (or more according to the buln of the
hatch) and with them raise your bread. The very
best bread I ever ate in my life was lightened with
these cakes.

205. The materials for a good batch of cakes are
as follows : — 3 ounces of good fresh Hops; 3£ pounds
of Rye Flour; 7 pounds of Indian Corn Meal ; and
one Gallon of Water. — Rub the hops, so as to sepa-
rate them. Put them into the water, which is to be
boiling at the time. Let them boil half an hour.
Then strain the liquor through a fine sieve into an
earthen vessel. While the liquor is hot, put in the
Rye-Flour ; stirring the liquor well, and quickly, as
the Rye-Flour goes into it. The day after, when it is
working, put in the Indian Meal, stirring it well as it
goes in. Before the Indian Meal be all in, the mess
will be very stiff; and it will, in fact, be dough, very
much of the consistence of the dough that bread is
made of. — Take this dough ; knead it well, as you
would for pie-crust. Roll it out with a rolling-pin,

120 YEAST. [No.

as you roll out pie-crust, to the thickness of about a
third of an inch. When you have it (or a part of it
at a time) rolled out, cut it up into cakes with a tum-
bler glass turned upside down, or with something
else that will answer the same purpose. Take a clean
board (a tin may be better) and put the cakes to dry
in the sun. Turn them every day ; let them receive
no wet; and they will become as hard as ship bis-
cuit. Put them into a bag, or box, and keep them in
a place perfectly free from (lump. When you bake,
take two cakes, of the thickness above-mentioned,
and about 3 inches in diameter; put them into hot
wa; it///, baying cracked them first. Let

the vessel containing them stand near the fire-place
all night Thev will dissolve by the morning, and
I hm you use tnem in setting your sponge (as it is
called) precisely as you would use the yeast of beer.
206. There are two things which may be consi-
dered by the reader as obstacles. First, where are
we to get the Indian Meal? Indian Meal is used
merelv because it is of a less adhesive nature than
that of wheat. White pea-meal, or even barley-meal,
would do just as well. But Secono, to dry the cakes,
to make them (and quickly too, mind) as hip

biscuit (which is much harder than the timber of
Scotch firs or Canada firs;) and to do this in the sun
(for it must not be /ire,) where are we, in this climate,
to get the sun? In 1816 we could not; for, that year,
melons rotted in the glazed frames and never ripen-
ed. But, in every nine summers out of ten, we have
in June, in July, or in August, a fortnight of hot sun,
and that is enough. Nature has not given us a peach-
climate; but we get peaches. The cakes, when put
in the sun, may have a glass sash, or a hand-light,
put over them. This would make their birth hotter
than that of the hottest open-air situation in America.
In short to a fanner's wife, or any good housewife,
all the little difficulties to the attainment of such an
object would appear as nothing. The will only is
required ; and, if there be not that, it is useless to
think of the attempt.

VII.] SWEDISH TURNIP. 121

SOWING SWEDISH TURNIP SEED.

207. It is necessary to be a little more full than I
have been before as to the manner of sowing this
seed ; and I shall make my directions such as to be
applied on a small or a large scale. — Those that want
to transplant on a large scale will, of course, as to
the other parts of the business, refer to my larger
work. — It is to get plants for transplanting that I
mean to sow the Swedish Turnip Seed. The time
for sowing must depend a little upon the nature of
the situation and soil. In the north of England,
perhaps early in April maybe best; but, in any of
these southern counties, any time after the middle of
April and before the 10th of May, is quite early
enough. The ground which is to receive the seed
should be made very fine, and manured with wood-
ashes, or with good compost well mixed with the
earth. Dung is not so good ; for it breeds the fly more ;
or, at least, I think so. The seed should be sown
in drills an inch deep, made as pointed out under the
head of Sowing in my book on Gardening. When
deposited in the drills evenly but not thickly, the
ground should be raked across the drills, so as to fill
them up; and then the whole of the ground should be
trodden hard, with shoes not nailed, and not very
thick in the sole. The ground should be laid out in
four -feet beds for the reasons mentioned in the "Gar-
dener." When the seeds come up, thin the plants
to two inches apart as soon as you think them clear
from the fly ; for, if left thicker, they injure each
other even in this infant state. Hoe frequently be-
tween the rows even before thinning the plants ; and
when they are thirined, hoe wrell and frequently be-
tween them ; for this has a tendency to make them
strong; and the hoeing before thinning helps to keep
off the fly. A rod of ground, the rows being eight
inches apart, and plants two inches apart in the row,
will contain about two thousand two hundred plants.
An acre in rows four feet apart and the plants a foot
apart in the row, will take about ten thousand four
11

122 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

hundred and sixty plants. So that to transplant an
acre, you must sow about Jive rods of ground. The
plants should be kept very clean ; and, by the last
week in June, or first in July, you put them out.
I have put them out (in England) at all times be-
tween 7th of June and middle of August. The first
is certainly earlier than 1 like; and the very finest I
ever grew in England, and the finest I ever saw for
• piece, were transplanted on the 14th of July.
But one year with another, the last week in June is
the best time. For size of plants, manner of trans-
planting, intercultivation, preparing the land, and the
rest, see " Year's Residence in America."

No. VIII.

On the converting of English Crass, and Grain
Plants cut green, i 'for the purpose of

making Plat for Hats and Bonnets.

Kfn May 30, 1823.

208. The foregoing Numbers have treated, eh

of the management ol the atfairs of a labourer's family,
and more particularly of the mode of disposing of the
money earned by the labour of the family. The
present Number will point out what I hope may be-
come an advantageous kind of labour. All alo:i
have proceeded upon the supposition, that the v.
and children of the labourer be, as constantly as pos-
sible, employed in work of some sort or other. The
cutting, the bleaching, the sorting, and the platting
of straw, seem to be, of all employments, the best suit-
ed to the wives and children of country labourers ;
and the discovery which I have made, as to the
means of obtaining the necessary materials, will en-
able them to enteral once upon that employment.

209. Before I proceed to give my directions rela-
tive to the performance of this sort of labour, I shall
give a sort of history of the discovery to which I have
just alluded.

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 123

210. The practice of making hats, bonnets, and
other things, of straw, is perhaps of very ancient date 5
but not to waste time in fruitless inquiries, it is very
well known that, for many years past, straw cover-
ings for the head have been greatly in use in England,
in America, and, indeed, in almost all the countries
that we know much of. In this country the manu-
facture was, only a few years ago, very flourishing /
but it has now greatly declined, and has left in po-
verty and misery those whom it once well fed and
clothed.

211. The cause of this change has been, the im-
portation of the straw hats and bonnets from Italy,
greatly superior, in durability and beauty, to those
made in England. The plat made in England was
made of the straw of ripened grain. It was, in ge-
neral, split ; but the main circumstance was, that it
was made of the straw of ripened grain ; while the
Italian plat was made of the straw of grain, or grass,
cut green. Now, the straw of ripened grain or grass
is brittle; or, rather, rotten. It dies while standing,
and, in point, of toughness, the difference between it
and straw from plants cut green' is much about the
the same as the difference between a stick that has
died on the tree, and one that has been cut from the
tree. But besides the difference in point of tough-
ness, strength, and durability, there was the differ-
ence in beauty. The colour of the Italian plat was
better ; the plat was brighter; and the Indian straws,
being sm,all wlwle straws, instead of small straws
made by the splitting of large ones, here was a round-
ness in them, that gave light and shade to the plat,
which could not be given by our flat bits of straw.

212. It seems odd, that nobody should have set to
work to find out how the Italians came by this fine
straw. The importation of these Italian articles was
chiefly from the port of Leghorn ; and therefore the
bonnets imported were called Leghorn Bonnets.
The straw manufacturers in this country seem to have
made no effort to resist this invasion from Leghorn,
And, which is very curious, the Leghorn straw has

I'M '.LISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

now U'santohc. imported, and to be p/atf*. >un-

try. So that we 1i;h1 hands to plat as well as the
Italians. All that we wanted Wi

//• that tin* Italians hud : ami it is truly wonder-
ful thai these importations from Leghorn should have
gone on increasing I our dom<

manufacture dwindling away at a like pace, without
there baring been any inquiry relative to the I
in which the Italians irnt t/n Strange, that

we should have im w from Italy, with-

out inquiring whether similar straw could not be got
in I been an

opinion, that England could no more produce this
I than it eoOid i>rocluee the sugar-cane.
Things were in th
Misa W '8 daughter in C

i aw -bonnet of her own making to the
/// of Arts in London. This bonnet, superior in
and beauty to anything of the kind that had
in Leghorn, th. ated toconsist of a

i of pass of which she sent along with the bonnet
some of the seeds. The question was, then, would
- grow 'i >id produce \ per-

1 1 A huge Quantity of the seed
had not been sent : and it Wi em-

ber o\ th . thought d th as

little delay as possible, a considerable quantity of the

-ill. It was in this atage of the aftair that my attention
sailed toit The member just alluded to applied

LC to get the seed from America. 1 was of opinion

that there could be no sort of gra iiiecticut

that would not, and that did h in

.land. My BOD Jamis. who was thru at \eW-

k, had instructions from me, in June 1821, to go

. and to send me home an account

of the matter. In September, the same < ird

from him, who sent me an account of the cuttingand

I also a specimen of the plat and grass

of Connecticut. Miss WoonHorsF. had told the

Society of Arts, that the grass used was the Poa

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 125

Pratensis. This is the smooth-stalked meadow-
grass. So that it was quite useless to send for seed.
It was clear, that we had grass enough in England,
if we could but make it into straw as handsome as
that of Italy.

215. Upon my publishing an account of what had
taken place with regard to the American Bonnet, an
importer of Italian straw applied to me to know
whether I would undertake to import American straw.
He was in the habit of importing Italian straw, and of
having it platted in this country ; but having seen the
bonnet of Miss Woodhouse, he was anxious to get
the American straw. This gentleman showed me
some Italian straw which he had imported, and as
the seed heads were on, I could not see what plant it
was. The gentleman who showed the straw to me,
told me (and, doubtless, he believed) that the plant
was one that would not grow in England. I how-
ever, who looked at the straw with the eyes of a far-
mer, perceived that it consisted of dry oat, wheat, and
rye plants, and of Bennet and other common grass
plants.

216. This quite settled the point of growth in
England. It was now certain that we had the
plants in abundance; and the only question that re-
mained to be determined was, Had we SUN to give
to those plants the beautiful colour which the Ame-
rican and Italian straw had ? If that colour w^ere to
be obtained by art, by any chemical applications, we
could obtain it as easily as the Americans or the
Italians ; but, if it were the gift of the SUN solely,
here might be a difficulty impossible for us to over-
come. My experiments have proved that the fear of
such difficulty was wholly groundless.

217. It was late in September 1821 that I obtained
this knowledge, as to the kind of plants that produ-
ced the foreign straw. I could, at that time of the
year, do nothing in the way of removing my doubts
as to the powers of our Sun in the bleaching of grass;
but I resolved to do this when the proper season for
bleaching should return. Accordingly, when the

11*

126 ENGLISH STRAW TI.AT. [No.

. t month of June came, I went into the country
for the i i made my experiments, and

ed to demonstration, i hat Ave had not

only the plants, but the sun also, necessary for the

mazing of straw, yielding in no respectto that of

or of Italy. I think that, upon the wh

ttly tne ad >[' those countr

for g hi this country than in

er. J i flow uth-

iety of sorts ;

am! is DO part of

the world wh ned

ur (iiiinis, merely bj | the land

of July.

got some of
it 11 plat One piece of this plat was equal

in j i ior in point of fineness,

i to the plat Oi tiie honnet of Mi>s Woodhoi
It seemed, therefore, now to he necessary to do no-

- ike
- bad interested it-

■S 1 heard that, through its

- -a grass-

made in England, I communicated an

>unt of my experiments to that Society. The
i'' In me on the 19th of

ruarj last, when 1 sent to the Society, specimens
of i ,nd also of the plat. Some time after

this I attended a committee of the Society on the
subject, and gave them a verbal account of the way
in which I had none to work.

219. The committee had, before tl some

of my straw to certain imnt/'j'.'c/nrrrs of plat in order

e what it would produce. These manufacturers,
with the exception of one, brought stick specimens of
pla< at tirst sight, any one to believe

that it was nonsense to think of bringing the thing
to any degree of perfection ! But, was it passible to
believe this .' Was it possible to believe that it
to import straw from Italy, to pay a
twenty percent tmty on tnat straw; aQd to have it

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 127

platted here ; and that it would not answer to turn
into plat straw of just the same sort grown in Eng-
land ? It was impossible to believe this ; but possi-
ble enough to believe, that persons now making
profit by Italian straw, or plat, or bonnets, would
rather that English straw should come to shut out
the Italian and to put an end to the Leghorn trade.

220. In order to show the character of the reports
of those manufacturers, I sent some parcels of straw
into Hertfordshire, and got back, in the course of five
days, fifteen specimens of plat. These I sent to the
Society of Arts on the 3d of April ; and I here insert
a copy of the letter which accompanied them.

TO THE SECRETARY OF THE SOCIETY OF ARTS.

Kensington, April 3, 1823.

Sir, — With this letter I send you sixteen speci-
mens of plat, and also eight parcels of straw, in order to
show the sorts that the plat is made out of. The num-
bers of the plat correspond with those of the straw;
but each parcel of straw has two numbers attached
to it, except in the case of the first number, which is
the wheat straw. Of each kind of straw a parcel of
the stoutest and a parcel of the smallest were sent to
be platted; so that each parcel of the straw now sent,
except that of the wheat, refers to two of the pieces of
plat. For instance, 2 and 3 of the plat is of the sort
of straw marked 2 and 3 ; 4 and 12 of the plat is of
the sort of straw marked 4 and 12; and so on. These
parcels of straw are sent in order that you may know
the kind of straw, or rather, of grass, from which the
several pieces of plat have been made. This is very
material; because it is by those parcels of straw that
the kinds of grass are to be known.

The piece of plat No. 16 is American; all the rest
are from my straw. You will see, that 15 is the finest
plat of all. No. 7 is from the stout straws of the
same kind as No. 15. By looking at the parcel of
straw Nos. 7 and 15, you will see what sort of grass
this is. The next, in point of beauty and fineness

128 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [Nb.

combined, are the pieces Nos. 13 and 8 ; and by look-
ing at the parcel of straw, Nos. 13 and 8, you will
see what sort of grass that is. Next comes 10 and 5,
which are very beautiful too; and the sort of grass,
you will see, is the common Bennet. The wheat,
you see, is too coarse; and the rest of the sorts are
either too hard or too brii i you to look at

Nos. 10 and 5. Those appear to me to be the thing
to supplant the Leghorn. The colour is gootl. the
- work irrff. they afford a great variety of size*)
and they come from the common Bennet grass,
which grows all over the kingdom, which is culti-
vated in all our fields, which is in bloom in the fair
month of June, which may be grown as fine or as
coarse ta we please, and ten acres of which would,
I dare say. make ten thousand bonnets. However, 7
and 13. and 8 and 13, are very good; and they are to
in « very part of the kingdom.
As t it i< to he too childish to believe that

are not to be got, when I could send off these
back the plat, in the course of five
Far better work than this would have been
obtained if I could have gone on the errand myself.
then will people not do, who regularly under-
the business for their livelihood?
I will, as soon as possible, send you an account of
the manner in which I went to work with the grass.
The card or plat, which I sent you some time ago,
you will be so good as to give me back again some
time ; because I have now not a bit of the American
plat left.

I am, Sir, your most humble and most obedient
servant, Wm. Cobbett.

221. I should observe, that these written communi-
cation< of mine to the Society, belong, in fact, to it,
and will be published in its PROCEEniNcs. a volume
of which comes out every year ; but, in this case,
there would have been a year lost to those who
may act in consequence of these communications
being made public. The grass is to be got, in great

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 129

quantities and of the best sorts, only in June and
July ; and the Society's volume does not come out
till December. The Society has, therefore, given its
consent to the making of the communications public
through the means, of this little work of mine.

222. Having shown what sort of plat could be pro-
duced from English grass-straw, I next communi-
cated to the Society an account of the method which
I pursued in the cutting and bleaching of the grass.
The letter in which I did this I shall here insert a
copy of, before I proceed further. In the original the
paragraphs were numbered from one to seventeen :
they are here marked by letters, in order to avoid
confusion, the paragraphs of the work itself being
marked by numbers.

TO THE SECRETARY OF THE SOCIETY OF ARTS.

Kensington, April 14, 1823.

A. — Sir, — Agreeably to your request, I now com-
municate to you a statement of those particulars
which you wished to possess, relative to the speci-
mens of straw and of plat which I have at dif-
ferent times sent to you for the inspection of the
Society.

B. — That my statement may not come too abrupt-
ly upon those members of the Society who have not
had an opportunity of witnessing the progress of
this interesting inquiry, I will take a short review of
the circumstances which led to the making of my
experiments.

C. — In the month of June, 1821, a gentleman, a
member of the Society, informed me, by letter, that a
Miss Woodhouse, a farmer's daughter, of Weathers-
field, in Connecticut, had transmitted to the Society
a straw-bonnet of very fine materials and manufac-^
ture ; that this bonnet (according to her account) was
made from the straw of a sort of grass called poa
pratensis; that it seemed to be unknown whether
the same grass would grow in England ; that it was
desirable to ascertain whether this grass would grow

130 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [N->.

in England ; that, at all events, it was desirable to
get from America some of the seed of this grass; and
that, for this purpose, my informant, knowing that
I had a son in America, addressed himself to me, it

bk opinion that, if n similar to those

could by any means be
in England^ the benefit to the nation must
be con

D.— ! q lence of this application, I WTote to

my son James, (i >rk,) directing him to

do what lie was able in order to cause success to the
undertaking. On the rec< . letter, in Julv,

•rsfield, (about a
hundred and tw '.] is* Woodhocse;

made the necessary inqui. Bed a specimen

of the grass, and also of the plat, which other per-
sons at Weathersfield, a^ well as Miss Woodhocse,
were in the habit of making; and having acquired

Lecessary information as to cutting the grass
and bleaching tfi«i Btraw, he transmitted to me an
account of the matter; which account, together with

pecimens of grass and plat, I received in the
month of September.

E. — 1 was now, when I came to see the specimen

tss, convinced thai Miss Wooohouse's raate-

i ould be grow I conviction

i. if it had not been complete at once, would
hate been made complete immediately afterwards by

•lit of a buuch of bonnet-straw imported from
which straw was shown to me by the im-
porter, and which I found to be that of two or three
sorts of our common grass, and of oats, wheat, and
rye.

F.— That the grass, or plants, could be grown in
England was, therefore, now certain, and indeed
that they were, in point of commonness, next to the
earth itself. But before the grass could, with pro-
priety, be called materials for bonnet-making, there
was the bleaching to be performed; and it was by
no means certain that this could be accomplished by
means of an English sun, the difference between

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 131

which and that of Italy or Connecticut was well
known to he very great.

G. — My experiments have, I presume, completely
removed this doubt. I think that the straw produced
by me to the Society, and also some of the pieces oi
plat, are of a colour which no straw or plat can sur-
pass. All that remains, therefore, is for me to give
an account of the manner in which I cut and bleached
the grass which I have submitted to the Society in
the state of straw.

H. — First, as to the season of the year, all the
straw, except that of one sort of couch-grass, and the
long coppice-grass, which two were got in Sussex,
were got from grass cut in Hertfordshire on the 21st of
June. A grass head-land, in a wheat-field, had been
mowed during the forepart of the day, and in the af-
ternoon I went and took a handful here and a handful
there out of the swaths. When I had collected as
much as I could well carry, I took it to my friend's
house, and proceeded to prepare it for bleaching, ac-
cording to the information sent me from America by
my son; that is to say, I put my grass into a shallow
tub, put boiling water upon it until it was covered by
the water, let it remain in that state for ten minutes,
then took it out, and laid it very thinly on a closely-
mowed lawn in a garden. But I should observe,
that, before I put the grass into the tub, I tied it up
in small bundles, or sheaves, each bundle being about
six inches through at the butt-end. This was neces-
sary, in order to be able to take the grass, at the end
of ten minutes, out of the water, without throwing
it into a confused mixture as to tops and tails. Being
tied up in little bundles, I could easily, with a prong,
take it out of the hot water. The bundles were put
into a large wicker basket, carried to the lawn in the
garden, and there taken out, one by one, and laid in
swaths as before-mentioned.

I. — It was laid very thinly; almost might I say, that
no stalk of grass covered another. The swaths were
turned once a day. The bleaching was completed

132 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

at the end of seven days from time of scalding
and laying out. June is a fine month. The
was, as it happened, cut on the lot
year; and the weather waa remarkably line and
clear. But the grass which 1 afterwards cut in Sus-
sex, was cut in the first week in August; and as to
the weather my journal speaks thue

August, 1822.

Thunder and rain.— Began cutting grass.
A day.
4lh

5ih.— Cloudy day.— Began scalding grass, and laying it out.
6th.— < 'loudy greater part of the day.
7th ;ier.

8th.— Cloudy and rather misty.— Finished cutting grass.
Oth. — Dry hut cloudy.

10th— Very close anil hot.— Packed up part of the grass.
lllh, 12ih, 13th, and 1 1th.— Same WM1\
15th.— Hot and clear.— Finished packing the grass.

K. — The grass cut in Sussex was as well bit
as that cut in Hertfordshire; so that if is -
we never can have a summer that will not ->iford sun
sufficient for this business.

L. — The part of the straw used for plat it

part of the stalk which is above the
part which is between the ///>/ i the seed-

branches. This part is taken out, and I
the straw thrown away. But the v
be cut and bleached; tecause, if y
oil* token irreen, the part above described, that parr
would wither up next to nothing. This pan
die in company with the whole plants, and be sepa-
rated from the other parts after the bleachin_
been performed.

M. — The time of cutting must vary with the sea-
sons, the situation, and the sort of grass. Th*
which I got in Hertfordshire, than which nothing
can. I think, be more beautiful, was, when cut
nerally in bloom; just in bloom. The wheat was in
full bloom ; so that a good time for getting ^rrass may
be considered to be that when the w
When 1 cut the grass in S
for reaping had begun j but that grass is of a

ENGLISH STRAW PLAT.

133

VIIL]

backward sort, and, besides, grew in the shade
amongst coppice-wood and under trees, which stood
pretty thick.

N. — As to the sorts of grass, I have to observe ge-
nerally, that in proportion as the colour of the grass
is deep; that is to say, getting further from the yel-
low, and nearer to the blue, it is of a deep and dead
yellow when it becomes straw. Those kinds of grass
are best which are, in point of colour, nearest to that
of wheat, which is a fresh pale green. Another thing
is, the quality of the straw as to 'pliancy and tough-
ness. Experience must be our guide here. I had not
time to make a large collection of sorts ; but those
which I have sent to you contain three sorts which
are proved to be good. In my letter of the 3d instant
I sent you sixteen pieces of plat and eight bunches
of straw, having the seed heads on, in order to show
the sorts of grass. The sixteenth piece of plat was
American. The first piece was from wheat cut and
bleached by me ; the rest from grass cut and bleached
I will here, for fear of mistake, give a list of

t lames of the several sorts of grass, the straw of
ich was sent with my letter of the 3d instant, re-
ferring to the numbers, as placed on the plat and on
the bunches of straw.

SORTS
OF GRASS.

—Wheat.

S Melica Casrulea ; or, Purple Melica
( Grass.

\ Agrostis Stolonifera ; or, Fiorin Grass ;
( that is to say, one sort of Couch-grass.

. Lolium Perenne ; or, Ray-grass.

$ A vena Flavescens ; or, Yellow Oat

} grass.

<\ Cynosurus Cristatus; or, Crested Dog's-

( tail grass.

$ Anthoxanthum Odoratum ; or, Sweet

) scented Vernal grass.

S Agrostis Canina ; or, Brown Bent

I grass.

O. — These names are those given at the Botanical
Garden at Kew. But the same English names are
12

PIECES

BUNCHES

OF PLAT.

OF STRAW.

Nol.— .

. No. 1. . .

11

. 2 and 3 . .

±1

12. C

. 4 and 12 . .

5.)
KM

. 5 and 10 . .

6.)
11. C

. 6 and 11 . .

15. <

. 7 and 15 . .

8.)
13.^

. 8 and 13 . .

£1

. 9 and 14 . .

131 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

not in the country given to these sorts of grass. The
Fiorin grass, the Yellow Oat-grass, and the Brown-
Bent,are all called couch-grass; except that the latter
is, in Sussex, called II It is the native grass

of the plains of Long Island ; and they call it Red
Top. The Ray-ir the common field grass,

which is, all over the kingdom, sown with clover. The
farmers, in a great part of the kingdom, call it Bent,
or Benm ! Darnefc

grass. The r goes, in Sussex, by

the name of Heru/onbent ; for what reason I know
not. The sweet-scented Vernal-grass I have never,
amongst the farmers, heard any name for. Miss
Woodhouse's grass appears, from the plants that I
saw in the Adelphi. to be one of the sorts of Couch-
grass. Indeed, I am sure that it is a Couch-grass, if
the plants I there saw came from her seed. My son,
who went into Connecticut, who saw the grass grow-
ing, and who sent me home a specimen of it, is now
in England : he was with me when I cut the grass
in Sussex ; and he says that Miss Woodhouse's •
a Couch-grass. However, it is impossible to look at
the specimens of straw and of plat which I have sent
you, without being convinced that there is no want
of the raw material in England. I was, after my first
hearing of the subject, very soon convinced that the
sa grew id England ; but I had great doubts as to
the capacity of our sun. Those doubts my own ex-
periments have completely removed ; but then I was
not aware of the great effect of the . of which,

by the way, Miss Woodhouse had said nothing, and
the knowledge of which we owe entirely to my son
James' journey into Connecticut.

P. — Having thus given you an account of the time
and manner of cutting the grass, of the mode of cut-
ting and bleaching; having given you the best ac-
count 1 am able, as to the sorts of grass to be em-
ployed in this business; and having, in my former
communications, given you specimen^ of the plat
wrought from the several sorts of straw, I might here
close my letter ; but as it mav be useful to speak of

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 135

the expense of cutting and bleaching, I shall trouble
you with a few words relating to it. If there were
a field of Ray-grass, or of Crested Dog's-tail, or any
other good sort, and nothing else growing with it,
the expense of cutting would be very little indeed,
seeing that the scythe or reap-hook would do the
business at a great rate. Doubtless there will be such
fields ; but even if the grass have to be cut by the
handful, my opinion is, that the expense of cutting
and bleaching would not exceed fourpence for straw
enough to make a large bonnet. I should be willing
to contract to supply straw, at this rate, for half a
million of bonnets. The scalding must constitute a
considerable part of the expense ; because there must
he fresh water for every parcel of grass that you put
in the tub. When water has scalded one parcel of
cold grass, it will not scald another parcel. Besides,
the scalding draws out the sweet matter of the grass,
and makes the water the colour of, that horrible stuff
called London porter. It would be very good, by-the-
by, to give to pigs. Many people give hay-tea to pigs
and calves ; and this is grass-tea. To scald a large
quantity, therefore would require means not usually
at hand, and the scalding is an essential part of the
business. Perhaps, in a large and convenient farm-
house, with a good brewing copper, good fuel and
water handy, four or five Women might scald a wagon
load in a day ; and a wagon would, I think, carry
straw enough (in the rough) to furnish the means of
making a thousand bonnets. However, the scalding
might take place in the field it'mlf, by means of a
portable boiler, especially if water were at hand ; and
perhaps it would be better to carry the water to the
field than to carry the grass to the farm-house, for
there must be ground to lay it out upon the moment
it has been scalded, and no ground can be so proper as
the newly -mowed ground where the grass has stood.
The space, too, must be large, for any considerable
quantity of grass. As to all these things, however, the
best and cheapest methods will soon be discovered
when people set about the work with a view to profit.

136 FNGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

Q,. — The Society will want nothing from me, nor
from any-body else, to convince it of the importance
of this matter; but I cannot, in concluding these com-
munications to you, Sir, refrain from making an ob-
servation or two on the consequences likely to arise
out of these inquiries. The manufacture is alone
of considerable magnitude. Not less than about Jite
millions of persons in this kingdom have a dress
which consists partly of manufactured straw; and a
];irur«' part, and all the most expensive part, of the
articles thus used, now come from abroad. In cases
where you can get from abroad any* article at less
t it at home, the wisdom of
fabricating that article at home may be doubted. But,
in this case, you get the raw material by labour per-
formed at home, and the cost of that labour is not
nearly so great as would be the cost of the mere car-
riage of the straw from a foreign country to this. If
our own people had all plenty of employment, and
that too more profitable to them and to the country
than the turning of a part of our own grass into
articles of dress, then it would be advisable still to
import Leghorn bonnets ; but the facts being the re-
verse, it is clear, that whatever money, or money's
worth things, be sent out of the country, in exchange
for Leghorn bonnets, is, while we have the raw ma-
terial here for next to nothing, just so much thrown
away. The Italians, it may be said, take some of
our manufactures in exchange; and let us suppose,
for the purpose of illustration, that they take cloth
from Yorkshire. Stop the exehange between Leg-
horn and Yorkshire, and, does Yorkshire lose part
of its custom ? No: for though those who make the
bonnets out of English grass, prevent the Le^horners
from buying Yorkshire cloth, they, with the money
which they now get, instead of its being got by the
Leghorners. buy the Yorkshire cloth themselves; and
they wear this cloth too, instead of its being worn by
the people of Italy ; ay, Sir, and many, now in r
will be well clad, if the laudable object of the Society
be effected. Besides this, however, why should we

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 137

not export the articles of this manufacture % To Ame-
rica we certainly should ; and I should not be at all sur-
prised if we were to export them to Leghorn itself.

R. — Notwithstanding all this, however, if the
manufacture were of a description to require, in order
to give it success, the collecting of the maniifacturers
together in great numbers, I should, however great
the wealth that it might promise, never have done
any thing to promote its establishment. The contra-
ry is happily the case : here all is not only performed
by handyb\it by hand singly, without any combina-
tion of hands. Here there is no power of machinery
or of chemistry wanted. All is performed out in the
open fields, or sitting in the cottage. There wants
no coal mines and no rivers to assist; no' water-pow-
ers nor powers of fire. No part of the kingdom is
unfit for the business. Every -where there are grass,
water, sun, and women and children's fingers ; and
these are all that are wanted. But, the great thing
of all is this ; that, to obtain the materials for the ma-
king of this article of dress, at once so gay, so useful,
and in some cases so expensive, there requires not a
penny of capital. Many of the labourers now make
their own straw hats to wear in summer. Poor rot-
ten things, made out of straw of ripened grain.
With what satisfaction will they learn that straw,
twenty times as durable, to say nothing of the beau-
ty, is to be got from every hedge ? In short when
the people are well and clearly informed of the facts,
which I have through you, Sir, had the honour to lay
before the Society,'. it is next to impossible that the
manufacture should not become general throughout
the country. In every labourer's house a pot of wa-
ter can be boiled. What labourer's wife cannot, in
the summer months, find time to cut and bleach grass
enough to give her and her children work for a part of
the winter? There is no necessity for all to be platters.
Some may cut £nd bleach only. Others may prepare
the straw, as mentioned in paragraph L. of this let-
ter. And doubtless, as the farmers in Hertfordshire
now sell their straw to the platters, grass collectors
12*

138 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [> \

and bleachers and preparers would do the same.
So that there is scarcely any country labourer's fami-
ly that might not derive some advantage from this
discovery; and, while I am convinced that this con-
sideration has been by no means over-looked by the
Society, it has been, I assure you, the great consider-
ation of all with,

Sir, your most obedient and

most humble Servant,

Wm. Cobbett.

223. In the last edition, this closing part of the
work, relative to the straw plat, was not presented to
thepuhlic as a thing w hieh admitted of no alteration ;
but, on the contrary, it was presented to the public
with the following concluding remark: *; In conclu-
sion I have to observe, that 1 by no means send forth
this essay as containing opinions and instructions
that are to undergo no alteration. I am, indeed, en-
deavourii b others; but I am myself only a

learner. Experience will, doubtless, make me much
more perfect in a knowledge of the several parts of
the subject ; and the fruit of this experience I shall be
careful to communicate to the public." I now proceed
to make good this promise. Experience has proved
that very beautiful and very fine plat can be made
of the straw of divers kinds of grass. But the most
ample experience has also proved to us that it is
to the straw of wheat, that we are to look for a man-
ufacture to supplant the Leghorn. This wras men-
tioned as a strong suspicion in my former edition of
this work. And I urged my readers to sow wheat for
the purpose. The fact is now proved beyond all con-
tradiction, that the straw of wheat or rye. but particu-
larly of wheal, is the straw for this purpose. Finer
plat may be made from the straw ot grass than can
possibly be made from the straw of wheat or I
but the grass plat is, all of it, more .or less brit
and none of it has the beautiful and uniform colour of
the straw of wheat. Since the last edition of this
work, I have received packets of the straw/ro >.• Tits-

kTIIT.] ENGLISH STJRAW PLAT. 139

cany, all of wheat; and, indeed, lam convinced that
no othsr straw is any-thing like so well calculated
for the purpose. Wheat straw bleaches better than
any other. It has that fine, pale, golden colour which
no other straw has ; it is much more simple, more
pliant than any other straw ; and, in short, this is the
material. I did not urge in vain. A good quantity
of wheat was sowed for this purpose. A great deal
of it has been well harvested ; and I have the plea-
sure to know that several hundreds of persons are
now employed in the platting of straw. One more
year; one more crop of* wheat; and another Leghorn
bonnet will never be imported in England. Some
great errors have been committed in the sowing of
the wheat, and in the cutting of it. I shall now,
therefore, availing, myself of the experience which I
have gained, offer to the public some observations on
the sort of wheat to be sowed for this purpose;
on the season for sowing; on the land to be used for
the purpose ; on the quantity of seed, and the man-
ner of sowing : on the season for cutting ; on the
manner of cutting, bleaching, and housing / on the
platting ; on the knitting, and on the pressing.

224. The SORT OF WHEAT. The Leghorn
plat is all made of the straw of the spring wheat.
This spring wheat is so called by us, because it is
sowed in the spring, at the same time that barley is
sowed. The "botanical name of it is TRITICUM
iESTIVUM. It is a small-grained bearded wheat.
It has very fine straw; but experience has convinced
me, that the little brown-grained winter wheat is just
as good for the purpose. In short, any wheat will do.
I have now in my possession specimens of plat made
of both winter and spring wheat, and I see no differ-
ence at all. I am decidedly of opinion that the win-
ter wheat is as good as the spring wheat for the pur-
pose. I have plat, and I have straw both now before
me, and the above is the result of my experience.

225. THE LAND PROPER FOR THE
GROWING OF WHEAT. The object is to have
the straw as small as we can get it. The land must

140 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

not, therefore, be too rich; yet it ought not to be very
poor. If it be, you get the straw of no length. I
saw an acre this year, as beautiful as possible, sowed
upon a light loam, which bore last year a fine crop
of potatoes. The land ought to be perfectly clean,
at any rate; so that taken ofF, the

wheat straw may not be mixed with weeds and grass.

226. SEASON FO [NO. This will be

more conveniently stated in paragraph 228.

TY OF SEED AND MANNER
OF first this subject was started

in 1821, 1 ter, that I would engage

•raw in England as the Ita.iaris could
grow. I recommended then, as a first guess, fifteen
bushels of wheat to the acre. Since that, reflection
told me that that was not quite enough. I therefore
recommended twenty bushels to the acre. Upon the
beautiful acre which I have mentioned above eigh-
teen bushels, 1 am tuld, were sowed ; fine and beau-
tiful as it was, I think it would have been better if it
had had twenty bushels ; twenty bushels, therefore,
IS what I recommend. You must sow broad cast, of
course, and you must take great pains to cover the
seed well. It must be a good even-handed seedsman,
and there must be verv nice covering.

228. SEASON FOR CUTTING. Now, mind,

fit to cut in just about one week after the bloom

It you examine the ear at that time,

you will find the grain just beginning to be formed,

and that is precisely the time to cut the wheat: The

w has then got its full substance in it. But I must

now point out a \ rial thing. It is by no

means desirable to have all your wheat/if to cut at

It is a great misfortune, indeed, so to

have it. If fit to cut altogether, it ought to he cut all

at th ne; for supposing you to have an acre,

it will require a fortnight or three weeks to cut it and

bleach it, unless you have a very great number of

hands, and very great vessels to prepare water in.

Therefore, if I were to have an acre of wheat for

this purpose, and were to sow all spring wheat, I

VIII | ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 141

would sow a twelfth part of the acre every week from
the first week in March to the last week in May. If I
relied partly upon winter wheat, I would sow some
every month, from the latter end of September to
March. If I employed the two sorts 01 wheat, or
indeed if I employed only the spring wheat, the
Triticum .ZEstivum, I should have some wheat fit to
cut in June, and some not fit to cut till September.
I should be sure to have a fair chance as to the
weather. And, in short, it would be next to impos-
sible for me to fail of securing a considerable part
of my crop. I beg the reader's particular attention
to the contents of this paragraph.

229. MANNER OF CUTTING THE WHEAT.
It is cut by a little reap-hook, close to the ground as
possible. It is then tied in little sheaves, with two
pieces of string, one near the butt, and the other
about half-way up. This little bundle or sheaf ought
to be six inches through at the butt, and no more. It
ought not to be tied too tightly, lest the scalding
should not be perfect.

230. MANNER OF BLEACHING. The little
sheaves mentioned in the last paragraph are carried
to a brewing mash, vat, or other tub. You must not
put them into the tub in too large a quantity, lest
the water get chilled before it get to the bottom. Pour
on scalding water till you cover the whole of the little
sheaves, and let the water be a foot above the top
sheaves. When the sheaves have remained thus a
full quarter of an hour, take them out with a prong,
lay them in a clothes-basket, or upon a hurdle, ana
carry them to the ground where the bleaching is to
be finished. This should be, if possible, a piece of
grass land, where the grass is very short. Take the
sheaves, and lay some of them along in a row; untie
them, and lay the straw along in that row as thin as
it can possibly be laid. If it were possible, no one
straw ought to have another lying upon it, or across it.
If 1m* sue be clear, it will require to lie twenty-four
hour? J»rs, then to be turned, and lie twenty-four '
]*curs oc the other side. If the sun be not very clear,

142 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No.

it must lie longer. But the numerous sowings which
I have mentioned will afford you so many chances,
so many opportunities of having fine weather, that
the risk about weather would necessarily be very
small. If wet weather should come, and if your
straw remain out in it any length of time, it will be
spoiled ; but, according to the mode of sowing above
pointed out, you really could stand very little chance
of losing straw by bad weather. If you had some
straw out bleaching, and the weather were to appear
suddenly to be about to change, the quantity that you
would have out would not be large enough to prevent
you from putting it under cover, and keeping it there
till the weather chau

231. HOUSING THE STRAW. When your
straw is nicely bleached, gather it up, and with the
same string that you used to tie it wrhen green, tie it
up again into little sheaves. Put it by in some room
where there is no damp, and where mice and rats are
not suffered to inhabit. Here it is always ready for use,
ami it will keep, I di >ars very well,

fa. This is now so well
understood that nothing need be said about the man-
ner of doing the work. But much might be said about
the measures to be pursued by Ian*' iriA

offici .ners, and more especially by gentlemen

and ladies of sense, public spirit, and benevolence of
disposition." The thine: will be done; the manufac-
1 over this kingdom; but the
lions of those whom I have here pointed out might
ten the period of its being brought to perfection.
And I beg such gentlemen and ladies to reflect on the
importance of such manufacture, which it is im-
possible to cause to produce any-thing but good. One
of the great misfortunes of England at this day is,
that the land has had taken awn/from, it those employ-
ments/or its women and children which were so ne-
cessnry to r of the agricultural labourer.

The spinning, the c ie reeling, the knitting ;

these have been all taken away from the land, and
fires to the Lords ofthe Loom, the haughty lords of

VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 143

bands of abject slaves. But let the landholder mark
how the change has operated to produce his ruin. He
must have the labouring MAN and the labouring
BOY; but, alas! he cannot have these, without hav-
ing the man's wife, and the boy's mother, and little
sisters and brothers. Even Nature herself says, that he
shall have the wife and little children, or that he shall
not have the man and the boy. But the Lords of the
Loom, the crabbed-Voiced, hard-favoured, hard-heart-
ed, puffed -up, insolent, savage and bloody wretches
of the North have, assisted by a blind and greedy
Government, taken all the employment away from
the agricultural women and children. This manu-
facture of Straw will form one little article of em-
ployment for these persons. It sets at defiance all the
hatching and scheming of all the tyrannical wretches
who cause the poor little creatures to die in their fac-
tories, heated to eighty-four degrees. There will need
no inventions of Watt; none of your horse powers,
nor water powers; no murdering of one set of wretches
in the coal mines, to bring up the means of murder-
ing another set of wretches in the factories, by the
heat produced from those coals; none of these are
wanted to carry on this manufactory. It w^ants no
combination laws; none of the inventions of the
hard-hearted wretches of the North.

233. THE KNITTING. Upon this subject, I
have only to congratulate my readers that there are
great numbers of English women who can now knit,
plat together, better than those famous Jewesses of
whom we were told.

234. THE PRESSING. Bonnets and hats are
pressed after they are made. I am told that a proper
press costs pretty nearly a hundred pounds ; but, then,
that it will do a prodigious deal of business. I would
recommend to our friends in the country to teach as
many children as they can to make the plat. The
plat will be knitted in London, and in other consider-
able towns, by persons to whom it will be sold. It ap-
pears to me, at least, that this will be the course that
the thing will take. However, we must leave this to

144 ICE-HOUSES. [iVo.

time : and here I conclude my observations ur^on a sul -
ject which is deeply interesting to myself, and which
the public in general deem to be of great importance.
235. POSTSCRIPT on brewing.— I think it right
to say here, that, ever since I published the instruc-
tions for brewing by copper and by wooden utensils,
the beer at my own house has always been brewed
precisely agreeable to the instructions contained in
this book; and I have to add, that I never have had
such good beer in my house in all my lifetime, as
since I have followed that mode of brewing. My
table-beer, as well as my ale, is always as clear as
wine. I have had hundreds and hundreds of quarters
of malt brewed into beer in my house. My people
could always make it strong enough and sweet
enough ; but never, except Tw accident, could they
make it CLEAR. Now I never have any that is not
clear. And yet my utensils are all very small ; and
my brewers are sometimes one labouring man, and
sometimes another. A man want* showing how to
brew the first time. I should suppose that we use, in
my house, about seven hundred gallons of beer every
year, taking both sorts together; and I can positively
assert, that there has not been one drop of bad beer,
and indeed none which has not been most excellent,
in my house, during the last two years, I think it is,
since I began using the utensils, and in the manner
named in this book,

ICE-HOUSES.

236. First begging the reader to read again para-
graph 149, 1 proceed here, in compliance with numer-
ous requests to that effect, to describe, as clearly as
I can, the manner of constructing the sort of Ice-
houses therein mentioned. In England, these recep-
tacles of frozen water are, generally, under ground,
and always, if possible, under the shade of trees, the
opinion being, that the main thing, if not the only
thing, is to keep away the heat. The heat is to be kept
away certainly ; but moisture is the great enemy of

VIIL] ICE-HOUSES. 145

Ice: and how is this to be kept away either under
ground^ or under the shade of trees ? Abundant ex-
perience has proved, that no thickness of wall, that
no cement of any kind, will effectually resist moisture.
Drops will, at times, be seen hanging on the under
side of an arch of any thickness, and made of any
materials, if it have earth over it, and even when it
has the floor of a house over it ; and wherever the
moisture enters, the ice will quickly melt.

237. Ice-houses should therefore be, in all their
parts, as dry as possible : and they should be so con-
structed, and the ice so deposited in them, as to en-
sure the running away of the meltings as quickly as
possible, whenever such meltings come. Any-thing
in way of drains or gutters, is too slow in its effect ;
and therefore there must be something that will not
suffer the water proceeding from any melting, to re-
main an instant.

238. In the first place, then, the ice-house should
stand in a place quite open to the sun and air; for
whoever has travelled even but a few miles (having
eyes in his head) need not be told how long that part
of a road from which the sun and wind are excluded
by trees, or hedges, or by any-thing else, will remain
wet, or at least damp, after the rest of the road is
even in a state to send up dust.

239. The next thing is to protect the ice against
wet, or damp, from beneath. It should, therefore,
stand on some spot from which water would run in
every direction; and if the natural ground presents
no such spot, it is no very great job to make it.

240. Then come the materials of which the house
is to consist. These, for the reasons before-mention-
ed, must not be bricks, stones, mortar, nor earth ; for
these are all affected by the atmosphere ; they will
become damp at certain times, and dampness is the
great destroyer of ice. The materials are wood and
straw. Wood will not do ; for, though not liable to
become damp, it imbibes heat fast enough ; and, be-
sides, it cannot be so put together as to shut out air
sufficiently. Straw is wholly free from the quality

13

146 ice-houses. [No.

of becoming damp, except from water actually put

upon it ; mid ii can, at the same time, he placed on a
roof, and on sides, to such b degree of thickness as
to exclude the air in a manner the rno>i perfect The
ice-house ou^ht, therefore, to be made o{ posts, plates,
rafters^ lath*, and straw. The best form is tht cir-
cular; and the house, when made, appears as I have
endeavoured to describe it in Fig. 3 of the plate.

'J 1 1. Fig. 1, a. is the centre of a circle, the diame-
ter of which is ten feet, and at this centre you put
up a post to stand fifteen feet shore the level of the
ground, which post ought to be about nine inches
through at the bottom, and not a great deal smaller at
the top. Great care must be taken that this post be
perfectly perpendicular; for, if it be not, the whole
building will be awry.

242. bbbnre fifteen posts, nine feet high, and six
inches through at the bottom, without much tapering
towards the top. These posts stand about two
apart reckoning from centre of post to centre of post,
which Leaves between each two a space of eight!
inch lit'ty-lour po^ts. five feet high, and
five inches through at the bottom, without much
tapering towards the top. These posts stand about
two let t apart from centre of post to centre of post,
which Leaves between each two a space of nineteen
inches. The- ween these, two rows of posts
is four feet in width, and, as will he presently seen,
tS to contain a \rull tif.stn.ir.

243. e is a passage through this wall; d is the out-
side door of the pa is the inside door; and
the inner circle, of which a is the centre, is the place
in which the ice is to be deposited.

244. Well, then, we have now got the posts vvl;
and. E talk of the rocfof the house, or of the
bed for the ice, it will be best to speak about the mak-
ing of the irult. It is to be made of straw, wheat-
straw, or rye-straw, with no rubbish in it. and made
very smooth by the hand as it is put in. You lay it

u ri/ closely and very smoothly, so that if the wall
were cut across, as at g g, in Fig. 2 (which Fig. 2

148 ice-house. [No.

represents the whole building cut clown through the
middle, omitting the centre post,) the ends of the
straws would present a compact face as they do after
a cut of a chaff-cutter. But there requires some-
thing to keep tlie straw from, bulging out between the
posts. Little stakes as big as your wrist will answer
this purpose. Drive them into the ground, and fasten,
at top, to the plates, of which 1 am now to speak.
The plates are pieces of wood which go all round
both the circles, and are nailed on upon the tops of
the posts. Their main business is to receive and sus-
tain the lower ends of the raflere, as at mm and n n.
in Fig. 2. But to the plates also the stakes just men-
tioned must be fastened at lop. Thus, then, there
will be this space of four feet wide, having, on each
side of it, a row of posts and stakes, not more than
about six inches from each other, to hold up, and to
keep in its place, this wall of straw.

245. Next come the rafters, as from s to n, Fig. 2.
Carpenters best know what is the number and what
the size of the rafters; but from s to m there need
be only about half as many as from m to n. How-
ever, carpenters know all about this. It is their every-
day work. The roof is forty-five degrees pitch, as
the carpenters call it. If it were even sharper, it
would be none the worse. There will be about thirty
ends of rafters to lodge on the plate, as at m; and
these cannot all be fastened to the top of the centre-
post rising up from a; but carpenters know how to
manage this matter, so as to make all strong and
safe. The plate which goes along on the tops of
the row of posts, bb b, must, of course, be put on in
a somewhat sloping form ; otherwise there would
be a sort of hip formed by the rafters. However,
the thatch is to be so deep, that this may not be of
much consequence. Before the thatching begins,
there are laths to put upon the rafters. Thatchers
know all about this, and all that you have to do is. to
take care that the (batcher tie the straw on well. The
best way, in a case of such deep thatch, is to have a
itrong man to tie for the t hatcher.

VIII.] ICE-HOUSES. 149

246. The roof is now raftered, and it is to receive
a thatch of clean, sound, and well-prepared wheat or
rye straw, four feet thick, as at h h in Fig. 2.

247. The house having now got walls and roof, the
next thing is to make the bed to receive the ice. This
bed is the area of the circle of which a is the centre.
You begin by laying on the ground round logs, eight
inches through, or thereabouts, and placing them
across the area, leaving spaces between them of
about a foot. Then, crossways on them, poles about
four inches through, placed at six inches apart. Then,
crossways on them, other poles, about two inches
through, placed at three inches apart. Then, cross-
ways on them, rods as thick as your finger, placed at
an inch apart. Then upon these, small, clean, dry, last-
winter-cut twigs, to the thickness of about two inches ;
or, instead of these twigs, good, clean, strong heath,
free from grass and moss, and from rubbish of all sorts.

248. This is the bed for the ice to lie on ; and as
you see, the top of the bed will be seventeen inches
from the ground. •The pressure of the ice may, per-
haps, bring it to fourteen, or to thirteen. Upon this
bed the ice is put, broken and pummelled, and beaten
down together in the usual manner.

249. Having got the bed filled with ice, we have
next to shut it safely up. As we have seen, there is
a passage (e). Two feet wide is enough for this
passage; and, being as long as the wall is thick, it is
of course, four feet long. The use of the passage is
this : that you may have two doors, so that you may,
in hot or damp weather, shut the outer door, while
you have the inner door open. This inner door may
be of hurdle-work, and straw, and covered, on one of
the sides, with sheep-skins with the wool on, so as to
keep out the external air. The outer- door, which
must lock, must be of wood, made to shut very close-
ly, and, besides, covered with skins like the other.
At times of great danger from heat, or from wet, the
whole of the passage may be filled with straw. The
door (p. Fig. 3) should face the North, or between
North and East.

13*

\~)0 ICE-HOL'SES. [No.

250. As to the size of the ice-house, that must, of
course, depend upon the quantity of ice that you may
choose to have. A house on the above scale, is from
w to x (Fig. 2) twenty-nine feet ; from y to z {¥\g.
2) nineteen feet. The area of the circle, of which a
is the centre, is ten feet in diameter, and as this area
contains seventy-five superficial feet, you will, if you
put ice on the bed to the height of only five feet, (and
you may put it on to the height of seven feet from the
top of the bed.) you will have three hundred and se-
venty-Jive cubic feet of ice; and, observe, a cubic foot
of ice will, when broken up, fill much more than a

Winchester Buehd: what it may do as to an "Impe-
rial Bushel," engendered like Greek Loan Commis-
sioners, by the unnatural heat of "Prosperity," God
only knows! However, I do suppose, that, without
making any allowance for the " cold fit," as Dr.
Baring calls it, into which "late panic" has trought
us ; I do suppose, that even the scorching, the burn-
ing dog-star of "Imperial Prosperity;" nay, that
even Dives himself, would hardly call for more than
two bushels of ice in a day ; for more than two bush-
els a day it would be, unless it were used in cold as
well as in hot weather.

251. As to the expense of such a house, it could,
in the country, not be much. None of the posts, ex-
cept the main or centre-post, need be very straight.
The other posts might be easily culled from free-lops,
destined for fire-wood. The straw would make all
straight. The plates must of necessity be short
pieces of wood ; and, as to the stakes, the laths, and
the logs, poles, rods, twigs, and heath, they would
not all cost twenty shillings. The straw is the prin-
cipal article ; anc, in most places, even that would
not cost more than two or three pounds. If it last
many years, the price could not be an object ; and if
but a little while, it would still be nearly as good for
litter as it was before it was applied to this purpose.
How often the bottom of the straic walls might want
renewing I cannot say, but I know that the roof would
with few and small repairs, last well for ten years.

VIII.] MANGEL WURZEL. 151

252. I have said that the interior row of posts is to
be nine feet high, and the exterior row five feet high.
I, in each ease, mean, with the plate inclusive. I
have only to add, that by way of superabundant pre-
caution against bottom wet, it will be well to make a
sort of gutter, to receive the drip from the" roof, and
to carry it away as soon as it falls.

253. Now, after expressing a hope that I shall have
made myself clearly understood by every reader, it is
necessary that I remind him, that I do not pretend to
pledge myself for the complete success, nor for any
success at all, of this mode of making ice-houses.
But, at the same time, I express my firm belief, that
complete success would attend it; because it not
only corresponds with what I have seen of such mat-
ters ; but I had the details from a gentleman who

^had ample experience to guide him, and who was a
'man on whose word and judgment I placed a per-
fect reliance. He advised me to erect an ice-house ;
but not caring enough about fresh meat and fish in
summer, or at least not setting them enough above
"prime pork" to induce me to take any trouble to se-
cure the former, I never built an ice-house. Thus,
then, I only communicate that in which I believe;
there is, however, in all cases, this comfort, that if
the thing fail as an ice-house, it will serve all gene-
rations to come as a model for a pig-bed.

ADDITION.

Kensington, Nov. 14th, 1831.

MANGEL WURZEL.

254. This last summer, I have proved that, as keep
for cows, Mangel Wurzel is preferable to Swedish
Turnips, whether as to quantity or quality. But
there needs no other alteration in the book, than
merely to read mangel wurzel wherever you find
Swedish turnip ; the time of sowing, the mode and

MANfJF.I. WTH/r.l..

hiii< el transplanting, the distances, at;

all being the same ; and the only difference being
in the OP) "/the leaves, and in tlie time of

ti% the roots.

ie Mangel Wcrzel an

great value, especially in dry summers. You begin,

about tin- third week in August, to take off by a down-

leaves of the plants ; and they are ex-

cellenl food for pigs and cows; only obm t hat,

to cows, there must be, for each cow, six

t necessary in

These leaves last till

i ves does good
U) fin pi i higher up; and

plant I ■• ■••nines longer than it otherwise would be, and,
of course. Bat, m taking off the leaves, you.

must not approach too near to the top.

6. When foo take the pfamta np in November, you

■lust cut oil t he crouma and the remaining leaves; and

r cows and pigs. Then you put

the roots into some place to b from the frost;

ve no place under cover, put them in

pies, in the same manner as directed for the Swedish

mots will average in weight 10 ft*.*

f may be given to cows i

and tlnv are better than dish turnip tor both

animals; ami they do not give any bad or strong taste

to the milk and butter. Hut. he-; ! the

gel uur/el, there is another, with regard to
at least, of very great importance, I this

plant has so much as in it, that, in France,

they mak of it; and I -agar, and

found it equal in goodness to West India sugar.

juice, and
I hare drank of this beer, and found it very good.
In short, the j aost excel!- *ing

»th Nov. 1831)
boili so. My copper ho

strike-l»u>heN; I put in thi mangel wurzel

cut into pieces two inches thick, and then fill the

cobbett's corn. 153

copper with water. I draw off as much of the liquor
as I want to wet pollard, or meal, for little pigs or
fatting-pigs, and the rest, roots and all, I feed the
yard-hogs with ; and this I shall follow on till about
the middle of May.

257. If you give boiled, or steamed, potatoes to pigs,
there wants some liquor to mix with the potatoes ; for
the water in which potatoes have been boiled is hurt-
ful to any animal that drinks it. But mix the potatoes
with juice of mangel wurzel, and they make very good
food for hogs of all ages. . The mangel wurzel produ-
ces a larger crop than the Swedish turnip.

cobbett's corn.

258. If you prefer bread and pudding to milk,
butter, and meat, this corn will produce, on your forty
rods, forty bushels, each weighing 60 lbs. at the least ;
and more flour, in proportion, than the best white
wheat. To make bread with it you must use two-
thirds wheaten, or rye, flour ; but in puddings this is
not necessary. The puddings at my house are all
made with tins flour, except meat and fruit pudding;
for the corn flour is not adhesive or clinging enough
to make paste, or crust. This corn is the. very best
for hog-fatting in the whole world. I, last April,
sent parcels of the seed into several counties, to be
given away to working men : and I sent them instruc-
tions for the cultivation, which I shall repeat here.

259. I will first describe this corn to you. It is
that which is sometimes called Indian corn; and
sometimes people call it Indian wheat. It is that
sort of corn which the disciples ate as they were going
up to Jerusalem on the Sabbath-day. Tney gathered
it in the fields as they went along and ate it green,
they being " an hungered," for which you know they
were reproved by the pharisees. I have written a
treatise on this corn in a book which I sell for four
shillings, giving a minute account of the qualities, the
culture, the harvesting, and the various uses of this
corn ; but I shall here confine myself to what is ne-

154 cobbett's corn.

cessary for a labourer to know about it, so that he
may be induced to raise and may be enabled to raise
enough of it in his garden to fat a pig often score.

260. Then reat many sorts of this COO}.

They all come from countries which are hotter than
England. This sort, which my eldest son brought
into England, is a dwarf kind, and is the only kind
that I hare known to ripen in this country: and I
know that it will ripen in this country in any sum-
mer ; for I had a large field of it in 1828 and 1896 j
and last jreai (my lease at my farm being out at
Michaelmas, and this corn not ripening till late in
October) I had about two acres in my garden at Ken-
sington. Within the memory of man there have not
been three summers so cold as the last, one after ano-
■: and no one so cold as the last Yet my corn
ned perfectly well, and this you will be satisfied
of* if you be amongst the men to whom this corn is
given from me. You will see that it is in the shape
of the cone of a spruce fir ; you will see that the
grains ;>re fixed round a stalk which is railed the i
These stalks or curs come out of the side of the plant,
which has leaves like a tlaix, which plant grows to
about three feet high, and has two or three and some-
time- more, of these ears or bunches of grain. Out of
the lop of the plant comes Lhe tassel, which re--
hies the plumes of feathers upon a hearse ; and this
is the ilower of the plant

201. The grain is, as you will see, about the size
of a large pea, and there are from two to three hun-
dred of these grains upon the ear, or cob. In my
treatise, I have shown that, in America, all the hogs
and jults, all the poultry of every sort, the greater
part of the oxen, and a considerable part of the sheep,
are fatted upon this corn; that it is the best food for
horses ; and that, when ground and dressed in vari-
ous way-, it i- used in bread, in puddings, in several
other ways in families; and that, in short, it is the
real stall' of lite, in all the countries where it is in
common culture, and where the climate is hot. When
used for poultry, the grain is rubbed off the cob.

cobbett's corn. 155

Horses, sheep, and pigs, bite the grain off, and leave
the cob ; but horned cattle eat cob and all.

262. I am to speak of it to you, however, only as a
thing to make you some bacon, for which use it sur-^
passes all other grain whatsoever. When the grain
is in the whole ear, it is called corn in the ear ;
when it is rubbed off the cob, it is called shelled corn.
Now, observe, ten bushels of shelled corn are equal,
in the fatting of a pig, to fifteen bushels of barley ;
and fifteen bushels of barley, if properly ground and
managed, will make a pig of ten score, if he be not
too poor when you begin to fat him. Observe that
everybody who has been in America knows, that the
finest hogs in the world are fatted in#that country ;
and no man ever saw a hog fatted in that country in
any other way than tossing the ears of corn over to
him in the sty, leaving him to bite it off the ear, and
deal with it according to his pleasure. The finest and.
solidest bacon in the world is produced in this way.

263. Now, then, I know, that a bushel of shelled
corn may be grown upon one single rod of ground
sixteen feet and a half each way ; I have grown more
than that this last summer ; and any of you may do
the same if you will strictly follow the instructions
which I am now about to give you.

1. Late in March (I am doing it now,) or in the
first fortnight of April, dig your ground up very deep,
and let it lie rough till between the seventh and fif-
teenth of May.

2. Then (in dry weather if possible) dig up the
ground again, and make it smooth at top. Draw drills
with a line two feet apart, just as you do drills for
peas; rub the grains off the cob; put a little very
rotten and fine manure along the bottom of the drill ;
lay the grains along upon that six inches apart ; cover
the grain over with fine earth, so that there be about
an inch and a half on the top of the grain ; pat the
earth down a little with the back of a hoe to make it
lie solid on the grain.

3. If there be any danger of slugs, you must kill
them before the corn comes up if possible : and the

156 cobbett's corn.

best way to do this is to put a little hot lime in a bag,
and go very early in the morning, and shake the bag
all round the edges of the ground and over the ground.
Doin^ this three or four times very early in a dewy
morning, or just after a shower, will destroy all the
slugs ; and this ought to be done for all other crops
as well as for that of corn.

4. When the corn comes up, you must take care to
keep all birds off till it is two or three inches hizh ;
for the spear is so sweet, that the birds of all sorts are
very apt to peck it off, particularly the doves and
the larks and pigeons. As soon as it is fairly above
ground, give the whole of the ground (in dry weather)
a flat hoeing, and be sure to move all the ground close
round the plants. When the weeds begin to appear
again, give the ground another hoeing, but always in
dry weather. When the plants get to be about a foot
high or a little more, dig the ground between the
rows, and work the earth up a little against the stems
of the plants.

5. About the middle of August you will see the
tassel springing up out of the middle of the plant, and
the ears coming out of the sides. If weeds appear in
the ground, hoe it again to kill the weeds, so that the
ground may be always kept clean. About the mid-
dle of September you will find the grains of the ears
to Km full of milk, just in the state that the ears were
at Jerusalem when the disciples cropped them to eat.
From this milky state, they, like the grains of wheat,
grow hard ; and as soon as the grains begin to be
hard, vou should cut off the tops of the corn and the
long flaggy leaves, and leave the ears to ripen upon
the stalk or stem. If it be a warm summer, they will
be fit to harvest by the last of October; but it does
net signify if they remain Out until the middle of No-
vember or even later. The longer they stay out, the
harder the grain will be.

6. Each ear is covered in a very curious mapper
with a husk. The best way for you will be.

you gather in your crop to strip off the husks, to tie
the ears in bunches of six or eight or tcr)s and fo hang

cobbett's corn. 157

them up to nails in the walls, or against the beams of
your house ; for there is so much moisture in the cob
that the ears are apt to heat if put together in great
parcels. The room in which I write in London is
now hung all round with bunches of this corn. The
bunches may be hung up in a shed or stable for a while,
and, when perfectly dry, they may be put into bags.

7. Now, as to the mode of using the corn ; if for
poultry, you must rub the grains off the cob ; but if
for pigs, give them the whole ears. You will find
some of the ears in which the grain is still soft. Give
these to your pig first ; and keep the hardest to the
last. You will soon see how much the pig will re-
quire in a day, because pigs, more decent than many
rich men, never eat any more than is necessary to
them. You will thus have a pig ; you will have two
flitches of bacon, two pig's cheeks, one set of souse,
two griskins, two spare-ribs, from both which I trust
in God you Will keep the jaws of the Methodist par-
son ; and if, while you are drinking a mug of your
own ale, after having dined upon one of these, you
drink my health, you may be sure that it will give
you more merit in the sight of God as well as of
man, than you would acquire by groaning the soul
out of your body in responses to the blasphemous
cant of the sleekheaded Methodist thief that would
persuade you to live upon potatoes. ^

264. You must be quite sensible that I cannot have
any motive but your good in giving you this advice,
other than the delight which I. take and the pleasure
which I derive from doing that good. You are all
personally unknown to me: in all human probability
not one man in a thousand will ever see me. You
have no more power to show your gratitude to me
than you have to cause me to live for a hundred years.
I do not desire that you should deem this a favour
received from me. The thing is worth your trying,
at any rate.

265. The corn is off by the middle of November.
The ground should then be well manured, and deeply
dug, and planted with early York, or early dwarf

14

158 cobbett's corn.

cabbages, which will be loaved in the latter end of
April, and may be either sold or given to pigs, or
cows, before the time to plant the corn again. Thus
you nave two very large crops on the same ground
in the same year.

INDEX.

PARAGRAPH

Aeur 18

Bees 160

making of • • -
Brewing Beer - - - -

See also " Postscript."

Brewing-machine .... 41

llroui'tiam, Mr. .... 41

Cam lies ami Rushes - - . 199

- agh'a and Mackintosh's

Oratory UQ

Combination Laws • • - 106

Corn, Cobbett

keeping Ill

Mr. 86

Cii-imn Laws 108

Preimen, Dr. 80

hold Goods,

and Fuel 199

169

• :. ■ >m 'iny, meaning of the term 2, 3

Education u

EUman. Mr. 20, 60

Excise Laws 108

Fowls - 176

167

Goats and Ewes 189

Hanning, Mr. Wm. - - - 99;

Hill, Mr.

Hops 202;

PARAGRAPH

Ice-houses 236

Leghorn 09

Libel Uws 108

Malthus, Parson .... 141

Mangel Wurzel 254

Mustard ....... 198

Parka, Mr. 98

Paul. Saint 148

Peel's flimsy Dresses • - - 152

Pigeons l-l

Pig's, keeping 139

Pitt's false Money .... 152

L-lish Straw - - - 208

Porter, how to make - - - 71

Potatoes 77

Rabbits 184

Halting Mutton and Beef • • 157

EkanBopa. lx>rd 144

Swedish Turnips - - - - 207

Turkeys 171

Walter's and Stoddart's Para-
graphs 152

Walter Scott's Poems - - 152

Want, the Parent of Crime - 18
Wakefield, Mr. Edward - 78, 99

Willie rforce's Potatoe-Diet • 152

Wimhelsea, Lord .... 144

Woodhouse, Miss - - - - 213

Yeast 203

COBBETT'S

POOR MAN'S FRIEND;

A DEFENCE OF THE RIGHTS OF THOSE WHO DO
THE WORK, AND FIGHT THE BATTLES.

COBBETT'S
POOR MAN'S FRIEND.

NUMBER I.

WORKING CLASSES OF PRESTON.

Burghclere, Hampshire, 22d August, 1826.
My excellent friends,

1. Amongst all the new, the strange, the unnatu-
ral, the monstrous things that mark the present times,
or, rather, that have grown out of the present system
of governing this country, there is, in my opinion,
hardly any thing more monstrous, or even so mon-
strous, as the language that is now become fashiona-
ble, relative to the condition and the treatment of that
part of the community which are usually denomina-
ted the POOR ; by which word I mean to designate
the persons who, from age, infirmity, helplessness,
or from want of the means of gaining anything by
labour, become destitute of a sufficiency of food or of
raiment, and are in danger of perishing if they be not
relieved. Such are the persons that we mean when
we talk of THE POOR ; and, I repeat, that amongst
all the monstrous things of these monstrous days,
nothing is, in my opinion, so monstrous as the lan-
guage which we now constantly hear relative to the
condition and treatment of this part of the community.

2. Nothing can be more common than to read, in
the newspapers, descriptions the most horrible of the
sufferings of the Poor, in various parts of England,
but particularly in the North. It is related of them,

14*

4 cobbett's [No.

that thry eat horse-flesh, grains, and have been detect-
ed in eating out of pig-troughs. In short, they are rep-
resented as being far worse fed and worse lodged than
the greater part of the pigs. These statements of the
newspapers may be false, or, at least, only partially
true; but, at a public meeting of rate-payers, al Man-
chester, on the 17th of August, Mr. Baxter, the
Chairman, said, thai some of the POOR had I
starve// to death, and t hat tens of thousands i
upon the 'point of starving ; and, at the same mi

Mr. Potter gave a detail, which showed that
Mi. Baxter's general description was true. Other
arruimi-, very nearly official, and. at any rate. i*.
of unquestionable authenticity, concur so felly with
the statem tester Meeting, that

it is impossible not to believe, that a great number of
thousands of p now on the point of perisn-

inir foi want of food, and that ,na,,ij hare actually

perished/ram that cause; and that this has taken
place, and is taking place, IN ENGLAND.

3. There is, then, no doubt of the existence of the
disgraceful and horrid facts; but that which is as hor-
rid as are the facr , themselves, and even more horrid
than those facts, is the cool and unresetUful language
and manner in which the facts are usually spoken <•!'.
Toose who write ahont the misery and starvation in
Lancashire and Yorkshire, never appear to think
that aui/ bodjf is to h/</))it\ even when the poor die
With hunger. The Ministers ascribe the calamity to
H over-trading';" the cotton and cloth and other mas-
ter-manufacturers ascribe it to "a want of paper-
money" or to the Corn-Bill ; others ascribe the ca-
lamity to the taxes. These last are right ; but what
have these things to do with the treatment of the
poor ? What have these things to do with the horrid
facts relative to the condition and starvation of Eng-
lish people ) It is very true, that the enormous taxes
which we pay on account of loans made to carry on
the late unjust wars, on account of a great Mainline
army in time of peace, on account of pensions, sine-
cures and grants, and on account of a Church, which,

I.] poor man's friend. 5

besides, swallows up so large a part of the produce of
the land and the labour; it is very true, that these
enormous taxes, co-operating with the paper-money^.,
and its innumerable monopolies ; it is very true, that
these enormous taxes, thus associated, have produced
the rain in trade, manufactures and commerce, and
have, of course, produced the low wages and the
want of employment; this is very true; but it is not
less true, that, be wages or employment as they may,
the poor are not to perish with hunger, or with cold,
while the rest of the community have food and rai-
ment more than the latter want for their own suste-
nance. The LAW OF ENGLAND says, that there
shall be no person to suffer from want of food and rai^>
ment. It has placed officers in every parish to see
that no person surfer from this sort of want ; and lest
these officers should not do their duty, it commands
all the magistrates to hear the complaints of the poor,
and to compel the officers to do their duty. The LAW
OF ENGLAND has provided ample means of relief
for the poor; for, it has authorized the officers, or
overseers, to get from the rich inhabitants of the par-
ish as much money as is wanted for the purpose,
without any limit as to amount ; and, in order that
the overseers may have no excuse of inability to make
people pay, the law has armed them with powers of
a nature the most efficacious and the most efficient
and most prompt in their operation. In short, the
language of the LAW, to the overseer, is this :
" Take care that no person suffer from hunger, or
from cold; and that you may be sure not to fail of
the means of obeying this my command, I give you,
as far as shall be necessary for this purpose, full
power over all the lands, all the houses, all the goods,
and all the cattle, in your parish." To the Justices of
the Peace the LAW says: "Lest the overseer should
neglect his duty ; lest, in spite of my command to him,
any one should suffer from hunger or cold, I command
you to be ready to hear the complaint of every sufferer
from such neglect ; I command you to summon the of-
fending overseer, and to compel him to do his duty."

0 cobbett's • [No.

4. Such being the language of the LAW, is it not
a monstrous state of things, when we hear it com-
monly and coolly stated, that many thousands of per-
sons jn England are upon the /><>i/d qfstarvcUumj
that thousands will die of hunger and add next win-
ter} that many have already died of hunger; and
when we hear all this, unaccompanied with one
word of complaint against any overseer^ or -any jus-
tice of the \» id .' Ism etly

monstrous I A state of things in which it appear
he taken lor granted, that the LAW is nothing, when
it is intended to operate as a protection to the poor!
Law is always law : if one part of the law may be.
with impunity, set at defiance, why not another and
every other p art of the law \ If tlie law which pro-
vides for the succour of the poor, for the preservation
of their lives, may be. with impunity, set at defiance,
why should there not be impunity for setting at defi-
ance the law which provides for the security of the
property and the lives of the rich? If you, in Lan-

:re. were t.i read, in an account of a meeting in
Hampshire, that, here, the farmers and gentlemen
were constantly and openly robbed; that the poor

•daily breaking into their houses, and knocking
their brains out ; and that it was expected that gr
part of them would be killed very soon: if you, in
Lancashi to hear this said of the state of

Hampshire, what would you say? Say ! Why, you
would say. to be sure, " Where is the LAW ; where
are the constables, the justices, the juries, the judges,
the sheriffs, and the hangmen? Where can I
Hampshire be 1 It, surely, never can be in Old Eng-
land. It must be some savage country, where such
enormities can be committed, and where even those,
who talk and who lament the evils, never utter one
word in the way of blame of the perpetrators." And
if you were called upon to pay taxes, or to make sub-
scriptions in money, to furnish the means of protection
to the unfortunate rich people in Hampshire, would
you not say, and with good reason, " No : what should

do this for? The people of Hampshire have the

I.] poor man's friend. 7

SAME LAW that we have ; they are under the
same Government ; let them duly enforce that law;
and then they will stand in no need of money from
us to provide for their protection."

5. This is what common sense says would be your
language in such a case ; and does not common sense
say, that the people of Hampshire, and of every other
part of England, will thus think, when they are told
of the sufferings, and the starvation, in Lancashire
and Yorkshire ! The report of the Manchester ley- \
payers, which took place on the 17th of August,
reached me in a friend's house in this little village ;
and when another friend, who was present, read, in
the speeches of Mr. Baxter and Mr. Potter, that
tens of thousands of Lancashire people were on the
point of starvation, and that many had already
actually died from starvation; and when he per-
ceived, that even those gentlemen uttered not a word
of complaint against either overseer or justices of the
peace, he exclaimed : " What ! are there no poor-laws
in Lancashire ? Where, amidst all this starvation,

is the overseer ? Where is the justice of the peace ?
Surely that Lancashire can never be in England?"

6. The observations of this gentleman are those
which occur to every man of sense ; when he hears
the horrid accounts of the sufferings in the manufac- .
turing districts ; for, though we are all well aware^l
that the burden of the poor-rates presses, at this time,
with peculiar weight on the land-owners and occu-
piers, and on owners and occupiers of other real pro-
perty, in those districts, we are equally well aware,
that those owners and occupiers have derived great
benefits from that vast population that now presses
upon them. There is land in the parish in which I
am now writing, and belonging to the farm in the
house of which I am, which land would not let for
20s. a statute acre ; while land, not so good, would
let, in any part of Lancashire, near to the manufac-
tories, at 605. or 805. a statute acre. The same may
be said with regard to houses. And, pray, are the
owners and occupiers, who have gained so largely by

8 cobbett's [No.

the manufacturing works being near their lands and
houses ; arc they, /tow, to complain, if the vicinage of
these same works causes a charge of rates tkt
heavier than vw-tshere? Are the owners and occu-
piers of Lancashire to enjoy an age of advantages
from the labours of the spinners and the weavers ;
and are they, when a reverse comes, to bear none of
the disad vantages ? Are they to make no sacrifices,
in order to save from perishing those industrious and
ever-toiling creatures, by the labours of whom their
land and houses have been augmented in value, three,
five, or perhaps tenfold ? None but the most unjust of
mankind can ans werthese questions in the affirmative.
7. But as gret iever at a loss for excuses

for the hanl-heartedness that it is always ready to
practise, it is -aid. thai bV whole of the rents of the
laud ami t lie houses would not suffice for the purpose;
that is to say, that if the poor rates were to te made
so high as to leave the tenant no means of paying
rent even then some of the poor must go without
sulliciency of food. 1 have no doubt that, in particu-
lar instances, this would be the case. But for cases
like this the LAW has amply provided ; for, in every
case of this sort, adjoining / tay be made to

/ the hard pressed parish ; and if the pressure be-
comes severe on these adjoining parishes, those next
adjo aide to assist; and thus the call

anon adjoining parishes may he extended till it reach
all over the comity. So good, so benignant, so wise, so
>eeing, and so effectual, is this, the very best of
all our good old laws ! This law or rather code of
laws, distinguishes England from all the other coun-
tries in the world, except the 1 states of
[meruXL where, while hundreds of other English
statutes have been abolished, this law has always re-
mained in full force, this great law of mercy and
humanity, which says, that no human bein^ that
treads English ground shall 'nod
and raiment Vox such poor per-
to work, the law provides food and clothing; and it
commands that work shall be provided lor such as

I.] poor man's friend. 9

are able to work, and cannot otherwise get employ-
ment. This law was passed more than two hundred
years ago. Many attempts have been made to chip
it away, and some have been made to destroy it alto-
gether ; but it still exists, and every man who does
not wish to see general desolation take place, will
do his best to cause it to be duly and conscientiously
executed.

8. Having now, my friends of Preston, stated what
the law is, and also the reasons for its honest enforce-
ment in the particular case immediately before us, I
will next endeavour to show you that it is found-
ed in the law of nature, and that, were it not for
the provisions of this law, people would, accord-
ing to the opinions of the greatest lawyers, have a
right to take food and raiment sufficient to preserve
them from perishing ; and that such taking would
be neither felony nor larceny. This is a matter of
the greatest importance ; it is a most momentous
question ; for if it be settled in the affirmative — if it
be settled that it is not felony, nor larceny, to take
other men's goods without their assent, and even
against their will, when such taking is absolutely
necessary to the preservation of life, how great, how
imperative, is the duty of affording, if possible, that
relief which will prevent such necessity ! In other
words, how imperative it is on all overseers and jus-
tices to obey the law with alacrity ; and how weak
are those persons who look to "grants" and " sub-
scriptions," to supply the place of the execution of
this, the most important of all the laws that consti-
tute the basis of English society ! And if this ques-
tion be settled in the affirmative ; if we find the most
learned of lawyers and most wise of men, maintain-
ing the affirmative of this proposition ; if we find
them maintaining, that it is neither felony nor larceny
to take food, in case of extreme necessity, though
without the assent, and even against the will of the
owner, what are we to think of those (and they are not
few in number nor weak in power) who, animated
with the savage soul of the Scotch feelosophers,

10 cobbett's [No.

would wholly abolish the poor-laws, or, at least, rm-
der them of little ('licet, and thereby constantly keep
thousands exposed to this dire necessity !

*J. In order to do justice to tl subject; in

order to treat it with perfect fairness, and in a man-
ner becoming of me and of you, I must take the au-
thorities on both sif/rs. There arc some great lawyers
who have contended that the Btarving man is still
guilty of felony or larceny, if he take food to satisfy
his hunger; but there are a greater Dumber of other,
and Still greater, lawyers, who maintain the con-
trary. The general doctrine of those who maintain
the right to take. Is founded on the law of nature;
and it is a saying as old as the hills,a saying in every
language in the world, that "self-preservation is the
first law of nature." The law of nature teaches
rv creature to prefer the preservation of it- own
life to all other things. But, in order to have a fair
view of the matter before us, we ought to inquire how
it came to pass, that the laws were ever made to pu-
nish men as criminal-, for taking the HCtuals, drink,
or clothing, that they might stand in need of. We must
recollect, then, that there tril a time when no such
laws existed ; when men, like the wild animals in
the fields, took what they were able to take, if they
wanted it. In this state of things, all the land and
all the produce belonged to all the people in <
won. Thus were men situated, when tiny lived
under wrhat is called the law of nature; when
every one provided, as he could, for his self-pn'
sen ation.

10. At length this state of things became changed :
men entered into society ; they made laws to restrain
individuals from following, in certain cases, the dic-
tates of their own will ; they protected the weak
against the strong; the laws secured men in poss
sion of lands, houses, and goods, that were called

THEIRS; the words MINE and THINE, which

mean an/ <,irn and ///;/ o/r;/, were invented to A
nate what we now call y in things. The

law necessarily made it criminal in one man to

1.] poor man's friend. 11

away, or to injure, the property of another man. It
was, you will observe, even in this state of nature,
always a crime to do certain things against our neigh-
bour. To kill him, to wound him, to slander him,
to expose him to suffer from the want of food or rai-
ment, or shelter. These, and many others, were
crimes in the eye of the law of nature ; but, to take
share of a man's victuals or clothing ; to go and in-
sist upon sharing a part of any of the good things
that he happened to have in his possession, could be
no crime, because there was no property in anything,
except in man's body itself. Now, civil society was
formed for the benefit of the whole. The whole
gave up their natural rights, in order that every one
might, for the future, enjoy his life in greater security.
This civil society was intended to change the state of
man^br the better. Before this state of civil society,
the starving, the hungry, the naked man, had a right
to go and provide himself with necessaries wherever
he could find them. There would be sure to be
some such necessitous persons in a state of civil so-
ciety. Therefore, when civil society was established,
it is impossible to believe that it had not in view
some provision for these destitute persons. It would
be monstrous to suppose the contrary. The contrary
supposition would argue, that fraud was committed
upon the mass of the people in forming this civil so-
ciety ; for, as the sparks fly upwards, so will there al-
ways be destitute persons to some extent or other, in
every community, and such there are to now a consider-
able extent, even in the United States of America ;
therefore, the formation of the civil society must have
been fraudulent or tyrannical upon any other suppo-
sition than that it made provision, in some way or
other, for destitute persons ; that is to say, for persons
unable, from some cause or other, to provide for them-
selves the food and raiment sufficient to preserve them
from perishing. Indeed, a provision for the destitute
seems essential to the lawfulness of civil society ; and
this appears to have been the opinion of Blackstone,
when, in the first Book and first Chapter of his Com-
15

12 cobbett's [No.

mentaries on the Laws of England, he says, " the law
not only regards life am . and protects every

man in the enjoyment of them, but also furnishes
him, with every thing necessary Jbr their iupporL

For there is no man so indigent or wretched, but he
may demand a supply s brail the necessaries

of life from t lie more opulent part of the community,
by means of the several statutes enacted for the re-
lief of the poor; a humane provision dictated by the
pri .■'//."

11. \<> man will contend, that the main body of
the people iii any country upon earth, and of course
in England, would have consented to abandon the
rights of nature; to give up their right to enjoy all
things in common ; no man will believe, that the
main body of tie- people would ever have given their
assent to the establishing of a state of things which
should make all the lands, and all the trees, and all
the goods and rattle of every sort, private property ;
which should have shut out a large part of the peo-
ple from having such property, and which should, at
the same time, not have pro. means of pre-
venting those of them, who might fall into indigence,
from being actual ith ! It is impossi-
ble to believe this. Men n. \ « r gave their assent to
enter into society on terms like these. One part
of the condition upon which men entered into society
was, that care should he taken that no human being
should perish from want. When they agreed to enter in-
to that state of things, which would necessarily cause
some men to be rich and some men to be poor; when
thev gave up that right, which God had given them,
to live as well as they could, and to take the means
wherever they found them, the condition clearly v
the " principle of society ;" clearly was, as Black-
stone defines it, that the indigent and wretched should
have a right to u demand from the rich a supply suf-
ficient for all the n of life."

12. If the society did not take care to act upon
this principle ; if it neglected to secure the legal means
of preserving the life of the indigent and wretched ;

I.] poor man's friend. 13

then the society itself, in so far as that wretched
person was concerned, ceased to have a legal existence.
It had, as far as related to him, forfeited its character
of legality. It had no longer any claim to his sub-
mission to its laws. His rights of nature returned :
as far as related to him, the law of nature revived in
all its force : that state of things in which all men en-
joyed all things in common was revived with regard
to him ; and he took, and he had a right to take, food
and raiment, or, as Blackstone expresses it, " a supply
sufficient for all the necessities of life." For, if it be
true, as laid down by this English lawyer, that the
principles of society ; if it be true, that the very prin-
ciples, ox foundations of society dictate, that the des-
titute person shall have a legal demand for a supply
from the rich, sufficient for all the necessities of life; if
this be true, and true it certainly is, it follows of course
that the principles, that is, the base, ox foundation, of
society, is subverted, is gone ; and that society is, in
fact, no longer what it was intended to be, when the
indigent, when the person in a state of extreme neces-
sity, cannot, at once, obtain from the rich such suffi
cient supply : in short, we need go no further than
this passage of Blackstone, to show, that civil society-
is subverted, and that there is, in fact, nothing legiti-
mate in it, when the destitute and wretched have no
certain and legal resource.

13. But this is so important a matter, and there
have been such monstrous doctrines and projects put
forth by Malthus, by the Edinburgh Reviewers, by
Lawyer Scarlett, by Lawyer Nolan, by Stdrges
Bourne, and by an innumerable swarm of persons who
have been giving before the House of Commons what
they call "evidence :" there have been such monstrous
doctrines and projects put forward by these and other
persons ; and there seems to be such a lurking desire
to carry the hostility to the working classes still further,
that I think it necessary in order to show, that these
English poor-laws, which have been so much calum-
niated by so many greedy proprietors of land ; I think
it necessary to show, that these poor-laws are the

14 cobbett's [Kd

things which men of property, above all others, ought
to wish to see nuiiuttiined, seeing that, according to
the opinions of the greatest and the wisest of men,
they must sufier most in consequence of the abolition
of those laws ; because, by the abolition of those laws,
the right given by the laws of nature would revive,
and the destitute wouldtaA*e, where they now simply
demand (as Blackstone expresses it) in the name of
the law. There has been some difference of opinion,
as to the question, whether it be theft or no theft ;
rather, whether it be ■ criminal act, or not a criminal
act fur ;i person, in a case of extreme necessity from
\v;in! of food, to take food without the assent and e
:ilt«* in^t t ht* will, of the owner. We have, amoniM
(in great lawyers, Sir Matthew Hale and Sir Wil-
liam Blackstone, who contend (though as we shall
see, with much feebleness, hesitation, and reservation, )
th;it it is (heft) notwithstanding the extremity of the
want ; but there are many, and much higher authorities,
foreign as well as English, on the other side. Before,
however, I proceed to the nearing of these authorities,
let me take a >hort view of the origin tf the poor laics
in England j lor that view will convince us, that,
though the present law was passe.d but a little more
than two hundred years a^o. there had been something
to effect the same purpose ever since England had been
called England.

14. According to the Common Law of England,
as recorded in the Mirrodr of Justices, a book which
was written before the Norman Conquest; a book in
as high reputation, as a law-book, as any one in Bag-
land; according to this book, Chapter 1st, Section
3d, which treats of the " First constitutions made by
the antient kings;" according to this work, provision
Wai made lor the sustenance of the poor. The words
are these ! " It was ordained, that the poor should be
sustained by parsons, by rectors of the church, and
by the parishioners, so that none of them die for to
of sustenance." Several hundred years later, the
nons of the church show, that when the church had
become rich, it took upon itself the whole of the care

I.] poor man's friend. 15

and expense attending the relieving of the poor.
These canons, in setting forth the manner in which
the tithes should be disposed of, say, " Let the priests
set apart the first share for the building and ornaments
of the church; let them distribute the second to the
poor and strangers, with their own hands, in mercy
and humility; and let them reserve the third part for
themselves." This passage is taken from the canons
of Elfric, canon 24th. At a later period, when the
tithes had, in some places, been appropriated to con-
vents, acts of Parliament were passed, compelling the
impropriators to leave, in the hands of their vicar, a
sufficiency for the maintenance of the poor. There
were two or three acts of this sort passed, one par-
ticularly in the twelfth year of Richard the Second,
chapter 7th. So that here we have the most ancient
book on the Common Law ; we have the cancms of
the church at a later period; we have acts of Parlia-
ment at a time when the power and glory of England
were at their very highest point ; we have all these to
tell us, that in England, from the very time that the
country took the name, there was always a legal and
secure provision for the poor, so that no person, how-
ever aged, infirm, unfortunate^ or destitute, should
suffer from want.

15. But, my friends, a time came when the provi-
sion made by the Common Law, by the Canons of the
Church, and by the Acts of the Parliament coming in
aid of those canons ; a time arrived, when all these
were rendered null by what is called the Protestant
Reformation. This " Reformation," as it is called,
sweeped away the convents, gave a large part of the
tithes to greedy courtiers, put parsons with wives and
children into the livings, and left the poor without
any resource whatsoever. This terrible event, which
deprived England of the last of her possessions on
the continent of Europe, reduced the people of Eng-
land to the most horrible misery ; from the happiest
and best fed and best clad people in the world, it
made them the most miserable, the most wretched
and ragged of creatures. At last it was seen that,
15*

16 cobbett's [No.

in spite of the most horrible tyranny that ever was
exercised in the world, in spite of the racks and the
gibbets and the martial law of Queen Elizabeth,
those who had amassed to themselves the property
out of which the poor had been formerly fed, were
compelled to pass a law to rut s< Money, />>/ way of
tax, for relieving (he necessities of t lie poor. They
had passed many acts before the forty-third year of
the reign of this Queen Elizabeth ; but these acts
were all found to be ineffectual, till, at last, in the
forty-third year of the reign of this tyrannical Queen,
and in the year of our Lord L601, thai famous act
PfSI passed, which baa been in force until this day;
and which, as 1 said before, is stiltin force, notwith-
standing all the various attempts of folly and cruelty
to ffet rid of it.

lo. I'h us. then, the present poor-laws are no new
thing. They are no gift to the working people.
You hear the greedy landowners everlastingly com-
plaining against this law of Queen Elizabeth.
They pretend that it was an unfortunate law. They
affect to regard it as a great INNOVATION, seeing
that no such law existed before; but, as I have shown,
a better law existed before, having the same object
in view. 1 have shown, that the "Reformation," as
it is called, had sweeped away that which had been
secured to the poor by the Common Law, by the Ca-
nons of the Church, and by ancient Acts of Parlia-
ment. There was nothing new, then, in the w*.y of
benevolence towards the people, in this celebrated
Act of Parliament of the reign of Queen Elizabeth ;
and the landowners would act wisely by holding
their tongues upon the subject; or, if they be too
noisy, one may look into their GftANTS, and see
if we cannot find something THERE to keep out
the present parochial assessments.

17. Having now seen the origin of the present
poor-laws, and the justice of their due execution, let
us return to those authorities of which I was speak-
ing but now, and an examination into which will
show the extreme danger of listening to those pro-

I.] poor man's friend. 17

jectors who would abolish the poor-laws ; that is to
say, who would sweep away that provision which
was established in the reign of Q,ueen Elizabeth,
from a conviction that it was absolutely necessary to
preserve the peace of the country and the lives of
the people. I observed before that there has been
some difference of opinion amongst lawyers as to the
question, whether it be, or be not, theft, to take with-
out his consent and against his will, the victuals of
another, in order to prevent the taker from starving.
Sir Matthew Hale and Sir William Blackstone
say that it is theft. I am now going to quote the
several authorities on both sides, and it will be ne-
cessary for me to indicate the works which I quote
from by the words, letters, and figures which are
usually made use of in quoting from these works.
Some part of what I shall quote will be in Latin:
but I shall put nothing in that language of which I
will not give you the translation. I beg you to read
these quotations with the greatest attention ; for you
will find, at the end of your reading, that you have
obtained great knowledge upon the subject, and
knowledge, too, which will not soon depart from
your minds.

18. I begin with Sir Matthew Hale, (a Chief
Justice of the Court of King's Bench in the reign
of Charles the Second,) who, in his Pleas of the
Crown, Chap. IX., has the following passage, which
I put in distinct paragraphs, and mark A, B, and C.

19. A. " Some of the casuists, and particularly
Covarruvius, Tom. I. De furti et rapince restitu-
tione, § 3, 4, p. 473 ; and Grotius, de jure belli ac
pads; lib. II. cap. 2. § 6, tell us, that in case of
extreme necessity, either of hunger or clothing, the
civil distributions of property cease, and by a kind of
tacit condition the first community doth -return, and
upon this those common assertions a^e grounded:
* Quicquid necessitas cogit, defendit? [Whatever
necessity calls for, it justifies.] 'Necessitas est lex
temporis et loci.1 [Necessity is the law of time and
place. 1 l In casu extremce necessitatis omnia sunt

18 cobbett's [No.

communiaS [In case of extreme necessity, all thii
are in common;'] and. therefore, in such case theft is
w> theft, or at least not punishable as theft; and some
even of our own lawyen have asserted the same;
and very had use hath been made of this concession
In Bome of the Jesuitical casuists of /' who

h;nv thereupon advised apprentices and servants to
rob their masters, where they have been indeed them-

BS in want of necessaries, of clothes or victu
whereof, they tell them, they themselves are the com-
petent judges ; and by this means let loo^e, as much
a< thy can, by their doctrine of probability, all ilie
ligam . and civil soci

20. B. '; I do. therefore, take if. that, where per-
sons live* under tie same civil government, as here
in E thai rule, at least by the laws of 11

land, is false \ and, therefore, if a person being u

Bsityfor want -.or clothes, shall, a]

that acQpunt, clandestinely, and 'ai //,'

[with intent to steal,] steal another man's goods,
it is felony, and a crime, by the laws of /,
punishable with death; although. the judge before
whom the trial is, in thi in other cases of

extremity) be by the laws of 1. intrusted

with :i power to reprieve the offender, before or ai
judgment, in order to the obtaining the King's mercy.

's properties would be under a

insecurity, being laid open to other men's nece--i-

w hereof no man i bly judge, but the

party himself. And. 2nd, Because by the laws of

this kingdom [here he refers to the 43 Eliz. cap. 21

sufficient provision is made for the supply of such

ies by collections for the poor, and by the

power o( the civil magistrate. Consonant hereunto

seems to be the law even among the Jews: if we

may believe the wisest of kin ;. 31.

: n do not despise a thief if he steal to satisfy hie

sou! when he is hungry, h"t \f he be found, ht shall

restore seven-fold, he shall give all the substance of

his house.' It is true, death among them was not

the penalty of theft, yet his necessity gave him no

I.] poor man's friend. 19

exception from the ordinary punishment inflicted by
their law upon that offence."

21. C. " Indeed this rule, c in casu extremes neces-
sitatis omnia sunt communiaj does hold, in some
measure, in some particular cases, where, by the tacit
consent of nations, or of some particular countries or
societies, it hath obtained. First, among the Jews,
it was lawful in case of hunger to pull ears of stand-
ing corn, and eat, (Matt. xii. 1;) and for one to pass
through a vineyard, or olive-yard, to gather and eat
without carrying away. Deut. xxiii. 24, 25. Second,
By the Rhodian law, and the common-maritime
custom, if the common provision for the ship's com-
pany fail, the master may, under certain tempera-
ments, break open the private chests of the mariners
or passengers, and make a distribution of that par-
ticular and private provision for the preservation of
the ship's company?1 Vide Consolato del Mare,
cap. 256. Le Customes de la Mere, p. 77.

22. Sir William Blackstone agrees, in substance,
with Hale ; but he is, as we shall presently see, much
more eager to establish his doctrine ; and, we shall
see besides, that he has not scrupled to be guilty of
misquoting, and of very shamefully garbling, the
Scripture, in order to establish his point. We shall
find him flatly contradicting the laws of England ;
but, he might have spared the Holy Scriptures,
which, however, he has not done.

23. To return to Hale, you see he is compelled to
begin with acknowledging that there are great
authorities against him ; and he could not say that
Grotius was not one of the most virtuous as well
as one of the most learned of mankind. Hale does
not know very well what to do with those old say-
ings about the justification which hard necessity
gives: he does not know what to do with the maxim,
that, "in case of extreme necessity all things are
owned in common." He is exceedingly puzzled with
these ancient authorities, and flies off into prattle
rather than argument, and tells us a story about "Jesu-
itical" casuists in France, who advised apprentices

20 (No.

and servants to rob their musters, and that they '

"let loose the ligaments of property and civil

I fancy that it would require a pretty large portion of

that sort of faith which induced th

to send witches and wiza

large portion of thi faith, to ma

that the "casuiiU had

tenant* of thi 1 teach servants to rob

their masters! In short, this prattle of the judge

seem ung more than one of those

Protestaii Loo much in fashion

at th >te.

24. He b« -econd paragraph, or par,!

!».. by - he so and so ;

and tnen< therqualilied expression ; he t:i

of civil . i

he says, that the rule of Grotius and others, against
which he ig, "he takes to be false,

at least," says he, •• by the l< t.n After

he has made all the e q i pro-

ceeds to say that such !>:
and it is a crime which the laws <
with death! Hut. a< if stricken with re
patting the frightful words upon paper; as if
shame for the law and for England
stantly begins to tell u^

at the trial is intrusted, • /'/,"

with power ftj I order to the

obtaining of the i\ ius he softens-

it down. He will have it to be LAW to put a i
to death in such a case; but I to leave

his readers to believe, that an English fudge and an
English king WOULD OBEY Tills LAW!

25. I w hear the reasons which he gives
for this which he pretends to be law. His first rea-
son is, that there would be no security for prope

if it Were laid open to the necessities of the indigent,
of which nee i man but the takers them-

selves could be the judge. He talks of a ■■
insecurity;" but, upon my word, no insecurity could
be half so strange as this assertion of his own.

I."] poor man's friend. 21

Blackstone has just the same argument. " Nobody,5'
says he, "would be a judge of the wants of the taker,
but the taker himself;" and Blackstone, copying the
very words of Hale, talks of the "strange insecurity"
arising from this cause. Now, then, suppose a man
to come into my house, and to take away a bit of
bacon. Suppose me to pursue him and seize him.
He would tell me that he was starving for want of
food. I hope that the bare statement would induce
me, or any man in the world that I do call or ever
have called my friend, to let him go without further
inquiry ; but, if I chose to push the matter further,
there would be the magistrate. If he chose to com-
mit the man, would there not be ajury and a judge
to receive evidence and to ascertain whether the ex-
treme necessity existed or not ?
, 26. Aye, says Judge Hale ; but I have another reason,
a devilish deal better than this, " and that is, the act
of the 43d year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth !"
Aye, my old boy, that is a thumping reason ! "Suffi-
cient provision is made for the supply of such neces-
sities by collections for the poor, and by the power of
the civil magistrate" Aye, aye ! that is the reason ;
and, Mr. Sir Matthew Hale, there is no other reason,
say what you will about the matter. There stand the
overseer and the civil magistrate to take care that
such necessities be provided for; and if they did not
stand there for that purpose, the law of nature would
be revived in behalf of the suffering creature.

27. Hale, not content however with this act of
Queen Elizabeth, and still hankering after this hard
doctrine, furbishes up a bit of Scripture, and calls
Solomon the wisest of kings on account of these two
verses which he has taken. Hale observes, indeed,
that the Jews did not put thieves to death; but, to
restore seven-fold was the ordinary punishment, in-
flicted by their law, for theft; and here, says he, we
see, that the extreme necessity gave no exemption.
This was a piece of such flagrant sophistry on the
part of Hale, that he could not find in his heart to
send it forth to the world without a qualifying obser-

22 cobbett's [No.

vation; but even this qualify ing observation left the
sophistry still so shameful, that his editor, Mr. Bin .
who published the work under authority of the House
of Commons, did not think it consistent with his re-
putation to suffer tin- passage to to forth unaccom-
panied with the following remark: " lint their (the
Jews') ordinary punishment being entirely pecuniary.
could affect him only when he was found m a co\
Hon to answer U: and therefore the same reasons
which could justify that, can, by no means, be ex-
tended to a corporal^ much less to a capital punish-
ment." Certainly : and this is the fair inteqiretation
of these two rases of the Proverbs. lYn t.ndorf,
one of tli authorities that the world knows

anything <>l. ubseifOS, upon the argument built iijm.ii
tin- text of Scripture, " It may be objected, that, in
ProFcrhs, chap. vi. rases Sty 91, he is called a thief,
ami pronounced obnoxious to the penalty of theft
who steal- to satisfy his hunger; but whoever closely
views and considers that text will find that the thief
there censored is neither in such extr< wity

Si we are now supposing, not seems to have fallen
into his needy condition merely by ill fortune, with-
out his own idleness or default: for the context im-
plies, that he had a house and goods i to
make seven-fold restitution; which he might have
either sold or pawned ; a chapman or creditor being
easily to be met with in times of plenty and peace;
for Ave have no grounds to think that the fact there
mentioned is supposed to be committed, either in time
of war, or upon account of the extraordinary price of
provision-

28. Besides this, I think it is clear that these two
verses of the Proverbs do not apply to one and the
i person ; for in the first verse it is said, that men
do nut despise a thief if he steal to satisfy his soul
when he is hungry. How, then, are we to reconcile
this with morality? Are we not to despise a ////
It is clear that the word thief does not apply to the
first case; but to the second case only ; and that the
distinction was here made for the express purpose of

I.] poor man's friend. 23

preventing the man who took food to relieve his
hunger from being confounded with the thief Upon
any other interpretation, it makes the passage contain
nonsense and immorality; and, indeed, Grotius says
that the latter text does not apply to the person men-
tioned in the former. The latter text could not mean
a man taking food from necessity. It is impossible
that it can mean that; because the man who was
starving for want of food cotdd not have seven-fold ;
could not have any substance in his house. But what
are we to think of Judge Blackstone, who, in his
Book IV., chap. 2, really garbles these texts of Scrip-
ture. He clearly saw the eifect of the expression,
"MEN DO NOT DESPISE;" he saw what an
awkward figure these words made, coming before the
words " A THIEF ;" he saw that, with these words
in the text, he could never succeed in making his
readers believe that a man ought to be hanged for
taking food to save his life. He clearly saw that he
could not make men believe that God had said this,
unless he could, somehow or other, get rid of those
words about NOT DESPISING the thief that took
victuals when he was hungry. Being, therefore, very
much pestered and annoyed by these words about
NOT DESPISING, what does he do but fairly leave
them out ! And not only leave them out, but leave
out a part of both the verses, keeping in that part of
each that suited him, and no more; nay, further,
leaving out one word, and putting in another, giving
a sense to the whole which he knew well never was
intended. He states the passage to be this : " If a
thief steal to satisfy his soul when he is hungry, he
shall restore seven-fold, and shall give all the sub-
stance of his house." No broomstick that ever was
handled would have been too heavy or too rough for
the shoulders of this dirty-souled man. Hale, with
all his desire to make out a case in favour of severity,
has given us the words fairly : but this shuffling fel-
low; this smooth-spoken an'd mean wretch, who is
himself thief enough, God knows, if stealing other
men's thoughts and words constitute theft ; this in-
16

24 cobbett's [\o.

tolerabiy mean reptile has in the first place, left out
the words "mm <h> not despise:" then he has left
out the words at the beginning of the next text, i:b//t
if he be found." Then in place of the " lu\" which
comes before the words "shall gwef he puts the word
"aw/;" and thus he makes the whole apply to the
poor creature that takes to satisfy his soul when he is
hungry ! He leaves out every mitigating word of the
Scripture; and, in his reference, he I the

to f)«' in a, if verse ! Perhaps, even in the
history of the conduct of crown-lawy era, there is not
to be found mention of an act so coolly bloody-minded
M this. It has often been said of this Bl.v
that he not only lied himself, but
he has here math-, as far as be ;i liar of

Bang Solomon himself: be has wilfully garbled the
Holy Scripture; and that, too, for the manifest pur-
pose of justifying cruelty in courts and judges ; for
I he manifest purpose of justifying the most savage
oppression o[ the poor.

29. After all, Hale has not the couragev to send
forth this doctrine of his, without allowing that the
case of extreme necessity does, " in some measure,"
and " in particular cases ," and, "by the tacit or sih mi
consent of nations," hold good! What a crowd of

?|Ualifications is here! With what reluctance he con-
esses that which all the world knows to be true, that
the disciples of Jesus Christ pulled oft^ ^thout leave,
the ears of standing com, and ate them "/;< mg am
hungered,* And here are two things to observe upon.
In the first place this corn was not what we call corn
here in England, or else it would have been very
droll sort of stuff to crop off and eat. It was what
the Americans call Indian corn, what the French
call iStrktift com, and what is called corn (as being
far surpassing all other in excellence) in the Eastern
countries where the Scriptures were written. About
four or five ears of this corn, of which you strip all
the husk off in a minute, are enough for a man's
breakfast or dinner; and by about the middle of
August this corn is just as wnolesome and as eflici-

I.] poor man's friend. 25

ent as bread. So that, this was something to take
and eat without the owner's leave ; it was something
of value ; and observe, that the Pharisees, though so
strongly disposed to find fault with everything that
was done by Jesus Christ and his disciples, did not
find fault of their taking- the corn to eat ; did not call
them thieves; did not propose to punish them for
theft; but found fault of them only for having plucked
the corn on the Sabbath-day! To pluck the corn
was to do work, and these severe critics found fault of
this working on the Sabbath-day. Then, out comes
another fact, which Hale might have noticed if he
had chosen it ; namely, that our Saviour reminds the
Pharisees that <c David and his companions, being an
hungered, entered into the House of God, and did eat
the show-bread, to eat which was unlawful in any-
body but the priests." Thus, that which would have
been sacrilege under any other circumstances ; that
which would have been one of the most horrible of
crimes against the law of God, became no crime at
all when committed by a person pressed by hunger.
30. Nor has Judge Hale fairly interpreted the two
verses of Deuteronomy. He represents the matter
thus : that, if you be passing through a vineyard or an
olive-yard you may gather and eat, without being deem-
ed a thief. This interpretation would make an English-
man believe that ihe Scripture allowed of this taking
and eating, only where there was a lawful foot-way
through the vineyard. This is a very gross misrepre-
sentation of the matter ; for if you look at the two
texts, you will find, that they say that, " when thou
comest into;" that is to say, when thou enter est or
goest into, " thy neighbour's vineyard, then thou
may est eat grapes thy fill at thine own pleasure, but
thou shalt not put any in thy vessel ;" that is to say,
that you should not go and make wine in his vine-
yard and carry it away. Then in case of the corn,
precisely the same law is laid down. You may
pluck with your hand; but not use the hook or a
sickle. Nothing can be plainer than this : no distinc-
tion can be wiser, nor more just. Hale saw the force

20 cuni:i [No.

of it ; and therefore, as these texts made very strong-
ly against him, he does not give them at full length.
Inn gives us a misrepresenting abbreviation.

81. lie had, however, too much regard for his re-
putation to conclude without ackni the right
pf seizing on the provisions of others at sea. 1I<-
allows that private chesta may be broh pre-
vent men from dying with hunger at sea. He does
not stop to tell ii- why men's ious
on sea than on hind. lie does not attempt to recon-
cile these liberties riven by the Scripture, and by the
maritime laws, with his own hard doctrine. In short,
he brings us to thifl at last : tliat he will not acknow-
ledge, that it is not theft to take another man's goods,
without his consent, under any circumstances ; but,
while he will not acknowledge this, he plainly leaves
us to conclude, that no English judge and no Eng-
lish king will ish a poor creature that takes
victuals to save himself from perishing; and he
plainly leaves us to conclude, that it is the pour-laws
of England ; that it is their and their
execution, which I very body in England of
the right to take food and raiment in case of extreme
necessity.

'*rl. Here I ith him most cordially ; and it

is because I agree with him in this, that I deprecate
the abominable projects of those who would annihi-
late the poor-laws, seeing that it is those very poor-
laws which give, under all circumstances, really Wal
security to property* Without them, eases must fre-
quently arise, which would, according to the law of
nature, according to the law of God, and as we shall
see before we have done, according to the law of
England, bring OS into a State, or, at least, bring par-
ticular persons into a state, which as far A to
them, would cause the law of nature to revive, and
to make all things to he owned in common. To ad-
here, then, to these poor hem to be duly
executed, to prevent every encroachment upon them, to
preserve them as the apple o( our eye. are the duty of
every Englishman, as far as he has capacity so to do.

II.] poor man's friend. 27

33. I have, my friends, cited, as yet, authorities only
on one side of this great subject, which it was my
wish to discuss in this one Number. I find that to be
impossible without leaving undone much more than
half my Work. I am extremely anxious to cause this
matter to be well understood, not only by the work-
ing classes, but by the owners of the land and the
magistrates. I deem it to be of the greatest possible
importance; and, while writing on it, I address my-
self to you, because I most sincerely declare that I
have a greater respect for you than for any other
body of persons that I know any thing of. The next
Number will conclude the discussion of the subject.
The whole will lie in a very small compass. Six-
pence only will be the cost of it. It will creep about,
by degrees, over the whole of this kingdom. All the
authorities, all the arguments, will be brought into
this small compass; and I do natter myself that
many months will not pass over our heads, before all
but misers and madmen will be ashamed to talk of
abolishing the poor-rates and of supporting the
needy by grants and subscriptions.
I am,
Your faithful friend and

Most obedient servant,

Wm. Cobbett.

NUMBER II.

Bollitree Castle, Herefordshire, 22d Sept. 1826.

My Excellent Friends,

34. In the last Number, paragraph 33, I told you,
that I would, in the present Number, conclude the dis-
cussion of the great question of theft, or no theft, in
a case of taking another's goods without his consent,
or against his will, the taker being pressed by ex-
treme necessity. I laid before you, in the last Num-
ber, Judge Hale's doctrine upon the subject; and I
16*

28 ktt's [No.

there mentioned the foul conduct of Blackstone, the
author of the "Commentaries on the Laws of Eng-
land. " I will not treat this unprincipled lawyer, I
shocking court sycophant; I will not treat him as he
has treated King Solomon and tin- 1 Inly Scriptures ;
I will not garble, misquote, and belie him. aj
bled, misquoted, and belied them; I will

whole of the to which I allude, and whieh

my readers may find in the Fourth Book of his Com-
mentaries. I request you to read it with ?rea1 atten-
tion; and to compare it. very carefully, with the pas-

e that I have quoted from Sit fl tdjL

which you will find in pat 9

inclusive. The passage from Blackstone is
i'ollows :

There is yet another case of necessity,
which has oc< wlation among the

writers upon genera] law; viz.. whether a man id
extreme want of food or clothing may justify steal-
ing either, to relieve his present necessities. And
this both Grotifs and Puffendorf, together with
many other ol the foreign jurists, hold in the
affirmative; maintaining by many ingenious, hu-
mane, and plausible reasons, that in such cases the
community of goods by a kind of tacit concession of
ie even of our own law-

1 have held the same: though it seems to be an
Unwarranted doctrine, borrowed from the notions of
some civilians: at least it is now antiquated, the law
of England admitting no such excuse at present.
And this its doctrine is agreeable not only to the sen-
timents of many of the wisest ancients, particularly
Cicero, who holds that * suum cuique incommodum
potius quam de alterius commodis de-
trahendum;' but also to the Jewish law. as certified
hv Kinir Solomon himself: * 1 1" a thief steal to Balk
hu soul when he is hungry, he shall restore seven-
fold, and shall give all the substance of his hous
which was the ordinary punishment for theft in that
kingdom. And this is founded upon the highest rea-
son: for men's properties would be under a strange

II.] poor man's friend. 29

insecurity, if liable to be invaded according to the
wants of others ; of which wants no man can possi-
bly be an adequate judge, but the party himself who
pleads them. In this country especially, there would
be a peculiar impropriety in admitting so dubious an
excuse ; for by our laws such a sufficient provision is
made for the poor by the power of the civil magis-
trate, that it is impossible that the most needy stran-
ger should ever be reduced to the necessity of thiev-
ing to support nature. This case of a stranger is, by
the way, the strongest instance put by Baron Puffen-
dorf, and whereon he builds his principal arguments ;
which, however they may hold upon the continent,
where the parsimonious industry of the natives or-
ders every one to work or starve, yet must lose all
their weight and efficacy in England, where charity
is reduced to a system, and interwoven in our very
constitution. Therefore, our laws ought by no means
to be taxed with being unmerciful, for denying this
privilege to the necessitous ; especially when we con-
sider, that the king, on the representation of his mi-
nisters of justice, hath a power to soften the law, and
to extend mercy in cases of peculiar hardship. An
advantage which is wanting in many states, parti-
cularly those which are democratical : and these have
in its stead introduced and adopted, in the" body of
the law itself, a multitude of circumstances tending
to alleviate its rigour. But the founders of "our con-
stitution thought it better to vest in the crown the
power of pardoning peculiar objects of compassion,
than to countenance and establish theft by one gene-
ral undistinguishing law."

36. First of all, I beg you to observe, that this pas-
sage is merely a flagrant act of theft, committed
upon Judge Hale ; next, you perceive, that which I
noticed in paragraph 28, a most base and impudent
garbling of the Scriptures. Next, you see, that
Blackstone, like Hale, comes, at last, to the poor-
laws; and tells us that to take other men's goods
without leave, is theft, because "charity is here re-
duced to a system, and interwoven in our very con-

30 cobbett's [\o.

stitution." That is to say. to relieve the necessitous;
to prevent their suffering from want; completely to
render starvation imp t of our

very constitution. " THEREFORE, our laws outfit
by no means to be taxed with being u / for

denying this privilege to the necessitous." Pray
mark- the word therefore. You see, OUT. laws, he
>, are not to I ul in

deeming the necessitous taker a thief. And
they not to I 1 unmerciful • SE

the laws i>n>< ual relief for the necessitous.

It follows, then, of course, even according to Bl.uk-
I if the Constitution had not pro-
< fual relief for the necessitous, then the
law rifid in deeming the ne-

cessi r a thief.

37. But now let us hear what that Grotics and
that PutfendoBF say; Jet us hear what these great
writers on the law ol nature and of nations say upon
this subject. Bl.v . ntioned the names
of them both ; hut he has not thought proper to no-
tice their arguments, much less has he attempted to
answer them. They are two of the most celebrated
men thai te ; and their writings are referred
to as high authority, ;rd to all the subjects of

which they have treated. The following is a pas-

■ from Grotids, on War and Peace, Book II.,
chap. 2.

38. " Let us see, further, what common right there
appertains to men in those things which have already
become the property of individuals. Some persons,
perchance, may consider it strange to question this,
as proprietorship seems to have absorbed all that
right which arose out of a state of things in common.
But it is not so. For, it is to be consider*

the intention of those who first introduced pri-
vate property ) which we may suppose to have been
such, as to deviate as little as possible from natural
equity. For if even written lews are to be construed
in that sense, as far as it is practicable, much more
so are customs, which are not fettered by the chains

II.] poor man's friend. 31

of writers. — Hence it follows, first, that, in case of
extreme necessity, the pristine right of using things
revives, as much as if they had remained in common ;
because, in all human laws, as well as in the law of
private property, this case of extreme necessity ap->
fears to have been excepted. — So, if the means of
sustenance, as in case of a sea-voyage, should chance
to fail, that which any individual may have, should
be shared in common. And thus, a fire having broken
out, I am justified in destroying the house of my
neighbour, in order to preserve my own house ; and I
may cut in two the. ropes or cords amongst which
any ship is driven, if it cannot be otherwise disen-
tangled. All which exceptions are not made in the
written law, but are presumed. — For the opinion has
been acknowledged amongst Divines, that, if any one,
in such case of necessity, take from another person
what is requisite for the preservation of his life,
he does not commit a theft. The meaning of which
definition is not, as many contend, that the proprie-
tor of the thing be bound to give to the needy upon
the principle of charity; but, that all things distinct-
ly vested in proprietors ought to be regarded as such
with a certain benign acknowledgment of the primi-
tive right. For if the original distributors of things
were questioned, as to what they thought about this
matter, they would reply what I have said. Neces-
sity, says Father Seneca, the great excuse for human
weakness, breaks every law ; that is to say, human
law, or law made after the manner of man."

39. " But cautions ought to be had, for fear this li-
cense should be abused : of which the principal is, to
try, in every way, whether the necessity can be avoid-
ed by any other means; for instance, by making ap-
plication to the magistrate, or even by trying whether
the use of the thing can, by entreaties, be obtained
from the proprietor. Plato permits water to be
fetched from the well of a neighbour upon this con-
dition alone, that the person asking for such permis-
sion shall dig in his own well in search of water as
far as the chalk: and Solon, that he shall dig in his

32 cobbett's [No.

own well as far as forty cubits. Upon which Pu -
TABOB addl that he judged that necessity was to be

relieved, not lazino-s to be encouraged,™

40. Such is the doctrine of this celebrated civilian.
Let us now hear Puffendorf; and'you will please to
bear in mind, that both these writers are of the great-
est authority upon all subjects connected with the
laws of nature and of nations. We read in their
works the result of an tge of study : they have been
two of the great guides of mankind ever since they
wictr: and, we are not to throw them aside, in order
to listen exclusively to Parson Hay, to Hulton of
Hulton, or to Nicholas Gri.msiiaw. They tell us
what they, and what other wise men, deemed to be
right ; and. ;i>< we shall by and by see, the laws of
ESngmnd, sd justly boasted of by our ancestors, hold
precisely the same language with these celebrated
men. After the following passage from Puffendorf,
I shall show you what our own lawyers say upon the
subject; but 1 request you to read the following pas-
sage with the 'tention.

41. " Let us inquire, in the next place, whether the
necessity of preserving our life can give us any right
over other men's goods, so as to make it allowable for
us to seize on them for our relief, either secretly, or
by open force, against the owner's consent. For the
more clear and solid determination of which point, we
think it necessary to hint in short on the causes upon
which distinct properties were first introduced in the
World ; designing to examine them more at large in
their proper place. Now the main reasons on which
properties are founded, we take to be these two; that
the feuds and quarrels might be appeased which arose
in the primitive communion of things, and that men
might he put under a kind of necessity of being indus-
trious, every one being to get his maintenance by his
own application and labour. This division, therefore,
of goods, was not made, that every person should sit
idly brooding over the share of wealth he had got,
without assisting or serving his fellows; but that any
one might dispose of his things how he pleased ; and

II.] poor man's friend. 33

if he thought fit to communicate them to others, he
might, at least, be thus furnished with an opportunity
of laying obligations on the rest of mankind. Hence,
when properties were once established, men obtained
a power, not only of exercising commerce to their
mutual advantage and gain, but likewise of dispen-
sing more largely in the works of humanity and be-
neficence; whence their diligence had procured them
a greater share of goods than others : whereas before,
when all things lay in common, men could lend une
another.no assistance but what was supplied by their
corporeal ability, and could be charitable of nothing
but of their strength. Further, such is the force of
property, that the proprietor hath a right of delivering
his goods with his own hands ; even such as he is
obliged to give to others. Whence it follows, that
when one man has anything owing from another, he
is not presently to seize on it at a venture, but ought
to apply himself to the owner, desiring to receive it
from his disposal. Yet in case the other party refuse
thus to make good his obligation, the power and pri-
vilege of property doth not reach so far as that the
things may not be taken away without the owner's
consent, either by the authority of the magistrate in
civil communities, or in a state of nature, by violence
and hostile force. And though in regard to bare
Natural Right, for a man to relieve another in extrem-
ity with his goods, for which he himself hath not so
much occasion, be a duty obliging only imperfectly,
and not in the manner of a debt, since it arises wholly
from the virtue of humanity ; yet there seems to be
no reason why, by the additional force of a civil ordi-
nance, it may not be turned into a strict andperfect
obligation. And this Seldon observes to have been
done among the Jews; who, upon a man's refusing
to give such alms as were proper for him, could force
him to it by an action at law. It is no wonder, there-
fore, that they should forbid their poor, on any account,
to seize on the goods of others, enjoining them to take
only what private persons, or the public officers, or
stewards of alms, should give them on their petition.

34 coebett's [No.

Whence the stealing of what was another's, though
upon extreme necessity, passed in that state for ti
or rapine. But now supposing under another gov*
merit the like gocdjprcvision Is not marie for persons
in want, supposing likewise that the covetous temper
of men of substance cannot be prevailed on to give
relief, and that the needy creature is not able, either
hy his work or service, or by making sale of anything
that hi- possesses, to assist aiis present necessity, m
lie. therefore, perish wilhfamtne? Oi hit-

man institution bind we with such a force that, in
case another man neglects his duty towards me, /
must rather </ir. than recede a little from the ordina-
ry and regular way of acting ? We conceive, there-
fore, that such :i perSOD doth not ((attract the guilt of
thefts who happening, not through his own fault, to be
in extreme want, either of necessary food, or of clothes
to preserve him from the violence of the weather,
and cannot obtain them from the voluntary gift of the
rich, either by urgent entreaties, or by offering some-
what equivalent id price, or by engagii .• it
. shall either forcibly or prwili ■: self out
)rir abundance; especially if he do it with full
intention to pay the value of them whenever bis bet-
ter fortune gives him ability. Some men deny that
such a raise of ned >.v/7//. as we speak of, can possibly
happen. Hut what if a man should wander in a for-
eign land, unknown, friendless, and in want, spoiled
of all he had by shipwreck, or by robbers, or having
lost by some casualty whatever he was worth in his
own country; should none be found willing either to
relieve his distress, or to hire his service, or should
they rather (as it commonly happens,) seeing him in
a good garb, suspect him to beg without reason, must
the poor creature starve in this miserable conditio?

42. Many other great foreign authorities might be
referred to, and I cannot help mentioning Covahhi -
virs. who is spoken of by JtFDGE Hale, and who ex-
presses himself upon the subject in these w< :
"The reason why a man in extreme necessity may.
without incurring the guilt of theft or rapt

II.] poor man's friend. 35

bly take the goods of others for his present relief, is
because his condition renders all things common.
For it is the ordinance and institution of nature itself,
that inferior things should be designed and directed
to serve the necessities of men. Wherefore the divi-
sion of goods afterwards introduced into the world
doth not derogate from that precept of natural reason,
which "suggests, that the extreme wants of mankind
may be in any manner removed by the use of tempo-
ral possessions." Puffendorf tells us, that Peresius
maintains, that, in case of extreme necessity, a man
is compelled to the action, by a force which he can-
not resist ; and then, that the owner's consent may be
presumed on, because humanity obliges him to suc-
cour those who are in distress. The same writer cites
a passage from St. Ambrose, one of the Fathers
of the church, which alleges that (in case of refu-
sing to give to persons in extreme necessity) it is the
person who retains the goods who is guilty of the act
of wrong doing, for St. Ambrose says, "it is the
bread of the hungry which you detain ; it is the rai-
ment of the naked which yon lock up."

43. Before I come to the English authorities on
the same side, let me again notice the foul dealing of
Blackstone ; let me point out another instance or two
of the insincerity of this English court-sycophant, who
was, let it be noted, Solicitor-general to the queen of
the " good old King." You have seen, in paragraph 28,
a most flagrant instance of his perversion of the Scrip-
tures. He garbles the word of God, and prefaces
the garbling by calling it a thing " certified by King
Solomon himself;" and this word certified he makes
use of just when he is about to begin the scandalous
falsification of the text which he is referring to. Nev-
er was anything more base. But, the whole extent
of the baseness we have not yet seen ; for, Black-
stone had read Hale, who had quoted the two verses
fairly ; but besides this, he had read Puffendorf,
who had noticed very fully this text of Scripture, and
who had shown very clearly that it did not at all
make in favour of the doctrine of Blackstone. Black-
17

3G cobbett's [No.

stone ought to have given the argument of Ptn
dorf; he ought to have given the whole of his argu-
ment; but particularly he ought to have given this
explanation of the passage in | IBS, whicli

explanation I have inserted in paragraph 27. It was
also the height of insincerity in Blackstone, to pre-
tend thai the passage from Cicero had anythi
all to do with the matter. He knew well that it
had not ; he knew that Cicero contemplated no case
of extreme necessity for want of food or clot
but he had read I'i itkndorf, and Puffendorf had
told him, that CtCBRO'fl was a question of the mere
fo/irt n I of life in general ;

and not a que8tk>D of pinching hunger or shivering
nakedne>>. IJi. !i;ul seen his fallacy expo-

sed by Pi i fendorf; he had seen the misapplication
of this passage of Cicero fully exposed by T
dorf; and yet the base court-sycophant trumped it up
again, without mentioning hf's exposure of

the fallacy ! In short this Blackstone, upon this
n. a< upon almost all others, has gone all
lengths ; has set detection and reproof at defiance, for
the sake of making his court to the government by
inculcating harshness in the application of the law,
and by giving to the law such an interpretation as
would naturally tend to justify that harshness.

1 1 Let us now cast away from us this insincere
sycophant, and turn to other law authorities of our
own country. The Mirr- '.ices, (quoted by

me in paragraph 14,) Chap. 4, Section 16, onthesub-
jecl oi arrest of judgment of death, has this passage.
Ju Igment is to be staid in seven cases here specified:
and the seventh is this : " in POVERTY, in which
case you are to distinguish of the poverty of the of-
fender, or of things ; for if poor people, to avoid fam-
ine, take victuals to sustain their lives, orch>th<
they dit' not of cola\ (sq that they perish if they keep
not themselves from cold,) they are not to be adjudg-
ed to death, if it were not in their power to ha re bought
tlieir victuals or dothes ; for as much as they are war-
ranted so to do by the law of nature." Now. my

II.] poor man's friend. 37

friends, you will observe, that I take this from a book
which may almost be called the bible of the law.
There is no lawyer who will deny the goodness of
this authority ; or who will attempt to say that this
was not always the law of England.

45. Our next authority is one quite as authentic,
and almost as ancient. The book goes by the name
of Britton, which was the name of a Bishop of
Hereford, who edited it, in the famous reign of Edward
the first. The book does, in fact, contain the laws of
the kingdom as they existed at that tim e. It may be call-
ed the record of the laws of E d ward the First. It begins
thus, " Edward by the grace of God, King of England
and Lord of Ireland, to all his liege subjects, peace,
and grace of salvation." The preamble goes on to
state, that people cannot be happy without good laws;
that even good laws are of no use unless they be known
and understood; and that, therefore, the king has order-
ed the laws of England thus to be written and recorded.
This book is very well known to be of the greatest au-
thority, amongst lawyers, and in Chap. 10 of this book,
in which the law describes what constitutes a BUR-
GLAR, or house-breaker, and the punishment that he
shall suffer (which is that of death,) there is this pas-
sage : "Those are to be deemed burglars who felo-
niously, in time of peace, break into churches or hou-
ses, or through walls or doors of our cities, or our
boroughs ; with exception of children uuder age, and
of poor people who for hunger, enter to take any sort
of victuals of less value than twelve peiice ; and ex-
cept idiots and mad people, and others that cannot
commit felony." Thus, you see, this agrees with the
Mirrour of Justices, and with all that we have read
before from these numerous high authorities. But
this, taken in its full latitude, goes a great length in-
deed ; for a burglar is a breaker-in by night. So that
this is not only a taking ; but a breaking into a house
in order to take ! And observe, it is taking to the val-
ue of twelve pence; and twelve pence then was the
price of a couple of sheep, and of fine fat sheep too;
nay, twelve pence was the price of an ox, in this.

88 cobbett's [No.

very reign of Edward the V\r<\. So that, a bun.
DM Jniirht have ■ pn-tty good belly-full in those dl
without running the risk of punishment. Observe, by-
the-by, how time lias hardmed the law. We are told of
the dark agi t, of the ba our fore-

fathers: and we hi I James Mackintosh to

receive and to preeenl petitioOJ innumerable, from
the most tend ures in the world, about

ninal code ;" but, not a word do
they ever say about a softening of Mi laWj which
man f<>r Bt value of a RAT,-

BITj and which formerly did not hang him till he
stole the value ofl I 'ufious enough, but still

more scandalous, that we should have the impudence
t<» talk of our hit ,nanitij, and our civilization, and of
tin- harharousness of our forefathers. But, if a 7
of tin- ancient law remain, shall not the whole of it
remain I If we hanff the thief, still hang the thief
far stealing to the value of tic ; though the

twelve pence now represents a raobit instead of an
ox; if are still do this, wool I

benefit of tin- ancient law from tin* starv
The passage that 1 have quoted is of such great im-
portance as to this question, that I think it necessary
to add, here, a copy of tl 1. which is in

old \ /' .//.of win. ; he translation

above. " Sunt tenus burgessours trestous ceux, que
felo 1 1 de pees debrusent esglises

ou auter mesons, ou murs, ou portes de nos cytes, ou
de nos burghes ; hors pris enlauntz dedans asje, et
poures one, pur feyn, entret pur ascun vitaille de
meindre value q1 de xii deners,et hors pris fous nasi
reoe arrages, et autresque seuent nule felonie faire."
46. Iftei I any rate, will not attempt

to gainsay. If there should, however, remain anyone
loaded to doubt of the soundness of this doctrine, let
them take the following from him who is alwayscall-
ed the '"pride of it/ti,'->snphi/."[\w ••pride of English
/ear)iin<r" and whom the poet Pope calls "greatest
amd wisest of mankind." It is Loro Bacon of whom
I am speaking. He was Lord High Chancellor in

II.] poor man's friend. 39

the reign of James the First ; and, let it be observed,,
that he wrote those "law tracts," from which I am
about to quote, long after the present poor-laws had
been established. He says (Law Tracts, page 55,)
" The law chargeth no man with default where the
act is compulsory and not voluntary, and where there
is not consent and election ; and, therefore, if either
there be an impossibility for a man to do otherwise,
or so great a perturbation of the judgment and reason,
as in presumption of law a man's nature cannot over-
come, such necessity carrieth a privilege in itself. —
Necessity is of three sorts : necessity of conservation
of life ; necessity of obedience 5 and necessity of the
act of God or of a stranger. — First, of conservation of
life ; if a man steal viands {victuals) to satisfy his
present hunger, this is no felony nor larceny."

47. If any man want more authority, his heart
must be hard indeed ; he must have an uncommonly-
anxious desire to take away by the halter the life
that sought to preserve itself against hunger. But,
after all, what need had we of any authorities?
What need had we even of reason upon the subject?
Who is there upon the face of the earth, except the
monsters that come from across the channel of St.
George ; who is there upon the face of the earth, ex-
cept those monsters, that have the brass, the hard
hearts and the brazen faces, which enable them coolly
to talk of the "MERIT" of the degraded creatures,
who, amidst an abundance of food, amidst a " super-
abundance of food," lie quietly down and receive the
extreme unction, and expire with hunger? Who,
upon the face of the whole earth, except these mon-
sters, these ruffians by way of excellence ; who, ex-
cept these, the most insolent and hard-hearted ruffians
that ever lived, will contend, or will dare to think,
that there ought to be any force under heaven to
compel a man to lie down at the door of a baker's
and butcher's shop, and expire with hunger ! The
very nature of man makes him shudder at the thought.
There want no authorities ; no appeal to law books ;
no arguments ; no questions of right or wrong : that
17*

40 cobbi. [No.

same human nature that tells me that I am not to rut
niv neighbour's throat, and drink his blood, tells me
that J am not to make him die at my feet hy keeping
from him food or raiment Qf which 1 have more than
I want for my own preservation.

talk of barbarians, indeed; Talk of "the dark
and barbarous the

I >m ids. Bueh barbarity as that of putting men to death,
or of punishing them for taking to relieve their hun-

1811, the
Kiv. Pitch R \. M. published a book, enti-

tled Ciii.i,;:it\m:a CambBICA. In the first volume of
th;it book, tin ICOUnt of the l;i

CIBNT BRITONS. Hume, and other Scotchmen, would
make us hrlieve. that the ancient inhabitant- of this
country were a set of savages, clothed in skins and
the like. The laws oflhis people were collected and
pat into writing, in the year 694 before Christ. The
following extract from these laws shows, that the
moment civil so iety began that moment

the law ( liai peopl

to depth. That moment it took care, that ;
>honld be made fol the destitute, or that, in east
extreme necessity, men were to preserve themselves
from death hv taking from those who had to spare.
The words 01 these laws (as applicable to our case)
given hv Mr. R : — " There are

three distinct kinds of personal individual property,
which cannot he shared with another, or surrendered
in payment of fine; vi/.. a wife, a child, and argy-
frew. By the word argyfreto i- meant, clothes, arms,
or the implements of a lawful calling. For without
these a man has not the means of support, and it
would be 1'iijifst in the law to unman a man. or to
uncoils man a< to hie calling." TBiAn53d. — "Three
kinds of thik'. to he punished with Death.

1. A wife, who joins with her husband in theft. 2.
A youth under age. And 3. One who, after he has
asked, in pain, for support, in three towns, and at
nine houses in each town." Triad 137.
49. There were, then, houses and towns, it seems;

II.] poor man's friend. 41

and the towns were pretty thickly spread too ; and, as
to " civilization" and "refinement" let this law rela-
tive to a youth under age, be compared with the new
orchard and garden law, and with the tread-mill
affair, and new trespass law!

50. We have a law, called the Vagrant Act, to
punish men for begging. We have a law to punish
men for not ivorking to keep their families. Now,
with what show of justice can these laws be main-
tained? They are founded upon this; the first, that
begging is disgraceful to the country ; that it is de-
grading to the character of man, and, of course, to
the character of an Englishman ; and, that there is
no necessity for begging, because the law has made
ample provision for every person in distress. The
law for punishing men for not working to maintain
their families is founded on this, that they are doing
wrong to their neighbours ; their neighbours, that is
to say, the parish, being bound to keep the family, if
they be not kept by the man's labour ; and, therefore,
his not labouring is a wrong done to theparish. The
same may be said with regard to the punishment for
not maintaining bastard children. There is some
reason for these laws, as long as the poor-laws are
duly executed; as long as the poor are duly relieved,
according to law ; but, unless the poor-laws exist;
unless they be in full force ; unless they be duly exe-
cuted ; unless efficient and prompt relief be given to
necessitous persons, these acts, and many others ap-
proaching to a similar description, are acts of bare-
faced and most abominable tyranny. I should say
that they would be acts of such tyranny ; for generally
speaking, the poor-laws are, as yet, fairly executed,
and efficient as to thek object.

51. The law of this country is, that every man,
able to carry arms, is liable to be called on, to serve
in the militia, or to serve as a soldier in some way or
other, in order to defend the country. What, then,
the man has no land; he has no property beyond
his mere body, and clothes, and tools ; he has no-
thing that an enemy can take away from him. What

42 C0BBETT*9

re, then, in calling upon this man to
takr

land: what is tin* land («• lm I
\\wuz to him I I sni/. that be ought to be called foi

defend the land) because, however poor he
7 through the poor-
i j and if In* be liable to be called forth i

kis
Thai i- v •• /
ith rKiMin, with justice, and with the law
of tin- laud j b

nasty disciples ; how can those who want to ah
the poor-rates or '

the i ipon

him to take up arras, to n~k his lif< : the

hind | < Irani that the poor-laws a

every necessitoui creature has a i mand re-

lief from .' that tlu* law

has most effectually providV tan shall

be pi I of cold;

grant these, and then the law which compels
ni in without house or land to take and

risk bis life m defence of the country, is a perft i
ju-t law: hut. den? to the He hat legal

elief of which I have been spea
the poor laws; and then this milil i •»• law be-

ooraes an act of a character such as I defy any pen
or tOOgpe to describe.

Mother word upon the sul

; but we li - when "stern

necessity* has so often been pleaded for moat fla-
grant (lrparlur. the iand. that one
iol help asking, whether there were any greater
necessity to j .x for his deeds of 1817
th.in there would \>v tojastify :i -tarvins: man in tak-
ing a loaf I Ai)i>iN(, i \ pleaded necessity, and he
jjot a Hill o( Indemnity. And. shall a starving man
be hanged, then, if he
from dying : When Sii ere before
Lament, the proposers and supporters of them m

II.] poor man's friend. 43

pretended that they did not embrace a most dreadful
departure from the ancient laws of the land. In an-
swer to Lord Holland, who had dwelt forcibly on
this departure from the ancient law, the Lord Chan-
cellor, unable to contradict Lord Holland, exclaim-
ed, " Salus populi suprema lex" that is to say " The
salvation of the people is the first law." Well, then,
if the salvation of the people be the first law, the sal-
vation of life is really and bona fide the salvation of
the people ; and, if the ordinary laws may be dis-
pensed with, in order to obviate a possible and specu-
lative danger, surely they may be dispensed with, in
cases where to dispense with them is visibly, demon-
strably, notoriously, necessary to the salvation of the
lives of the people: surely, bread is as necessary to
the lips of the starving man, as a new law could be
necessary to prevent either house of parliament from
being brought into contempt; and surely, therefore,
Salus populi suprema lex may come from the lips of
the famishing people with as much propriety as they
came from those of the Lord Chancellor !

53. Again, however, I observe, and with this I con-
clude, that we have nothing to do but to adhere to
the poor-laws which we have ; that the poor have
nothing to do, but to apply to the overseer, or to ap-

Eeal from him to the magistrate ; that the magistrate
as nothing to do but duly to enforce the law ; and that
the government has nothing to do, in order to secure
the peace of the country, amidst all the difficulties
that are approaching, great and numerous as they are;
that it has nothing to do, but to enjoin on the magis-
trates to do their duty according to our excellent law ;
and, at the same time, the government ought to dis-
courage, by all the means in their power, all projects
for maintaining the poor by any other than legal
means; to discourage all begging-box affairs; all
miserable expedients ; and also to discourage, and,
where it is possible, fix its mark of reprobation upon
all those detestable projectors, who are hatching
schemes for what is called, in the blasphemous slang
of the day, " checking the surplus population," whq

44 cobbett's [No.

are batching schemes for preventing the labouring
people from having children : who are about spread-
mi: Aeit nasty beastly publications ; who are hatch-

• hemes of emigration; and who, in short, seem
to be doing every-thing in their poWtet to widen tin*
fearful breach that lias already Bean made between
the poor and the rirh. The government has nothing
to do but to cause die law to he honestly enforced;
and then we shall see no starvation, and none of
those dreadful conflicts which the fear of want, as
well ;i- actual want, never fail to produce. The bare
thought offorced em igration to a foreign state, includ-
it must, a transfer of all allegiance, which is
contrary to the fundamental laws of England; or>
exposing every emigrating person to the danger of
committing high treason; the very thought of such
a measure, having h> essary in England^ is

enough to make an Englishman mad. But, of these
projects, these scandalous nasty beastly and shame-

wojects, we shall have time to speak hen
and in the mean while, 1 take my leave of you, for
the present, by expressing my admiration of the sen-
sible and spirited conduct of the people of Stock-
port, when a«i attempt was, on the 5th of September,
made to cheat them into an address, applauding' the
conduct of the Ministers! What ! Had the people
of Stockport so soon forgotten 16th of August !
Mad they so soon forgotten their townsman, Joseph
Swan ! If they had. they would have deserved to
perish to ail eternity. Oh, no! It was a proposition
very premature : it will be quite soon enough for the
good and sensible and spirited fellows of Stockport;
quite soon enough to address the Ministers, when the
Ministers shall have proposed a repeal of the several
Jubilee measures, called Ellenborough's law, the
poaclver-transporting law ; the sun-set and sun-rise
tra importation law; the tread-mill law; the select-
vestry law; the Sunday-toll laws; the new trespass
law; the new treason law; the seducing-soldier-
hangjng law; the new apple-felony law; tin
ACTS : and a great number of others, passed in the

III.] poor man's friend. 45

reign of Jubilee. Quite soon enough to applaud, that
is, for the sensible people of Stockport to applaud,
the Ministers, when those Ministers have proposed
to repeal these laws, and, also, to repeal the malt tax,
and those oilier taxes, which take, even from the
pauper, one half of what the parish gives him to
keep the breath warm in his body. Quite soon enough
to applaud the Ministers, when they have done these
things ; and when in addition to all these, they shall
have openly proposed a radical reform of the Com-
mons House of Parliament. Leaving them to do
this as soon as they like, and trusting, that you will
never, on any account, applaud them until they do it,
I, expressing here my best thanks to Mr. Blackshaw,
who defeated the slavish scheme at Stockport, remain,
Your faithful friend,

and most obedient servant,

Wm. Cobbett.

NUMBER III.

Ilursibourne Tarrant {called Uphitsband,)
Hants, ISth October, 1826.

My Excellent Friends,

54. In the foregoing Numbers, I have shown, that
men can never be so poor as to have no rights at all :
and that, in England, they have a legal, as well as a
natural, right to be maintained, if they be destitute
of other means, out of the lands, or other property,
of the rich. But, it is an interesting question, HOW
THERE CAME TO BE SO MUCH POVERTY
AND MISERY IN ENGLAND. This is a very
interesting question ; for, though it is the doom of
man, that he shall never be certain of any-thing, and
that he shall never be beyond the reach of calamity;
though there always has been, and always will be,
poor people in every nation ; though this circumstance
of poverty is inseparable from the means which up-

46 cobbett's [No.

hold communities of men ; though, without poverty,
then- could be no charity, and none of those leelin
those offices, those acts, and those relationships, which
are connected with charity, and which form a con-
siderable portion of the cement of civil society : yet,
notwithstanding these things, there are bounds beyond
which the poverty of the people cannot go, without
becoming a thing to complain of, and to trace to the
Government as a fault. Those bounds have been
passed, in England, long and long a^o. England
was always lamed for many things ; but especially
for its good living'; that is to say, for the plenty
in which the whole of the people lived; for the
abundance of good clothing and good food which they
had. It was always, ever since it bore the name
of England^ the richest and most powerful and most
admired country in Europe; but, its good living, its
superiority in this particular respect, was proverbial
Amongst all who knew, or who had heard talk of, the
English nation. Good God ! How changed ! Now,
the very worst fed and worst clad people upon the
face of the earth, those of Ireland only excepted.
//mi\ then, (lift this horrible, this disgraceful ', this
cruel poverty come upon this "nee happy nation?
This, my good friends of Preston, is, to us all, a
most important question ; and, now let us endeavour
to obtain a full and complete answer to it.

55. POVERTY Is. alter all, the great badge, the
never-failing badge, of slavery. Bare bones and 1
are the true marks of the real slave. What is the
object of Government ? To cause men to. live hap-
pily. They cannot be happy without a sufficiency of
ftod and of raiment. Good government means a
state of things in which the main body are well fed
and well clothed. It is the chief business of a gov-
ernment to take care, that one part of the people do
not cause the other part to lead miserable lives.
There can be no morality, no virtue, no sincerity, no
honesty, amongst a people continually suffering from
want ; and, it is cruel, in the last degree, to punish
6uch people for almost any sort of crime, which

III.] poor man's friend. 47

in fact, not crime of the heart, not crime of the per-
petrator, but the crime of his all-controlling necessi- J&
ties. — To what degree the main body of the people,
in England, are novo poor and miserable ; how deplo-
rably wretched they now are ; this we know but too
well ; and now, we will see what was their state be-
fore this vaunted " Reformation." I shall be very
particular to cite my authorities here. I will infer
nothing ; I will give no " estimate;" but refer to au-
thorities, such as no man can call in question, such
as no man can deny to be proofs more complete than
if founded on oaths of credible witnesses, taken
before a judge and jury. I shall begin with the
account which Fortescue gives of the state and
manner of living of the English, in the reign of
Henry VI.; that is, in the 15th century, when the
Catholic Church was in the height of its glory. For-
tescue was Lord Chief Justice of England for nearly
twenty years ; he was appointed Lord High Chan-
collor by Henry VI. Being in exile, in France, in
consequence of the wars between the Houses of
York and Lancaster, and the King's son, Prince
Edward, being also in exile with him, the Chancel-
ler wrote a series of Letters, addressed to the Prince,
to explain to him the nature and effects of the Laws
of England, and to induce him to study them and
uphold them. This work, which was written in
Latin, is called De Laudibus Legum Anglice ; or,
Praise of the Laws of England. This book was,
many years ago, translated into English, and it is a
book of Law-Authority, quoted frequently in our
courts of this day. No man can doubt the truth of
facts related in such a work. It was a work written .
by a famous lawyer for a prince ; it was intended to
be read by other contemporary lawyers, and also by
all lawyers in future. The passage that I am about to
quote, relating to the state of the English, was purely
incidental ; it was not intended to answer any tem-
porary purpose. It must have been a true account. —
The Chancellor, after speaking generally of the
nature of the laws of England, and of the difference
18

48 coebett's [No.

between them and the laws of France, proceeds to
show the difference in their effects, by a description
of the state of the French people, and then by a de-
scription of the state of the English. His words,
words that, as I transcribe them, make my cheeks
burn with shame, are as follows: "Besides all this,
the inhabitants of France give every year to their
King the fourth pari of all th**ir wines, the growth of
that year, every vintner gives the fourth penny of
what he makes of his wine by sale. And all the
towns and boroughs pay to the King yearly great
sums of money, which are assessed upon them, for
the expenses ot bit men at arms. So that the King's
troops, which are alw ays considerable, are substituted
and paid yearly by those common people, who live in
the Tillages, borough's, and cities. Another grievance
is, every village constantly finds and maintains two
cross-bow- men. at the least; some find more, wen
arrayed in all their accoutrements, to serve the King
in his wars, as often as he pleaseth to call them out,
which is frequently done. Without any considera-
tion had of these things, other very heavy taxes are
assessed yearly upon every village within the king-
dom, for the King's service ; neither is th>
intermission or ahatcvn nt of taxes. Exposed to these
and other calamities, the peasants live in great hard-
ship and misery. Their constant drink is \nitri\
neither do they taste, throughout the year, any other
liquor, unless upon some extraordinary times, or fes-
tival days. Their clothing consists of frocks, or little
short jerkins, made of canvass, no better than com-
mon sackcloth; they do not wear any woollens, ex-
cept of the coarsest sort ; and that only in the gar-
ment under their frocks; nor do they wear any trowse,
but from the knees upwards; their legs being exposed
ami naked. The women ^o barefoot, except on holi-
days. They do' not eat flesh, except it be the fat of
bacon, and that in very small quantities, with which
they make a soup. Of other sorts, either boiled or
roasted, they do not so much as taste, unless it be of
the inwards and offals of sheep and bullocks, and the

III.] poor man's friend. 49

like which are killed, for the use of the better sort of
people, and the merchants; for whom also quails,
partridges, hares, and the like, are reserved, upon
pain of the g allies ; as for their poultry, the soldiers
consume them, so that scarce the eggs, slight as they
are, are indulged them, by way of a dainty. And if
it happen that a man is observed to thrive in the world,
and become rich, he is presently assessed to the King^s
tax, proportionably more than his poorer neighbours,
whereby he is soon reduced to a level with the rest."
Then comes his description of the English, at the
same time; those "priest-ridden" English, whom
Chalmers and Hume, and the rest of that tribe, would
fain have us believe, were a mere band of wretched
beggars.—" The King of England cannot alter the
laws, or make new ones, without the express consent
of the whole kingdom in Parliament assembled.
Every inhabitant is at his liberty fully to use and
enjoy whatever his farm produceth, the fruits of the
earth, the increase of his flock, and the like : all the
improvements he makes, whether by his own proper
industry, or of those he retains in his service, are his
own, to use and enjoy, without the let, interruption,
or denial of any. If he be in anywise injured or
oppressed, he shall have his amends and satisfactions
against the party offending. Hence it is that the in-
habitants are rich in gold, silver, and in all the neces-
saries and conveniences of life. They drink no water,
unless at certain times, upon, a religious score, and
by way of doing penance. They are fed, in great
abundance, with all sorts of flesh and fish, of which
they have plenty every-where ; they are clothed
throughout in good woollens; their bedding and other
furniture in their houses are of wool, and that in
great store. They are also well provided with all
other sorts of household goods and necessary imple-
ments for husbandry. Every one, according to his
rank, hath all things which conduce to make life easy
and- happy." — Go, and read this to the poor souls,
who are now eating sea-weed in Ireland ; who are
detected in robbing the pig-troughs in Yorkshire;

50 cobbett's [No.

who are eating horse-fle^h and grains (draff) in Lan-
cashire and ( !he*hire ; who are harnessed like h
and drawing gravel in Hampshire and Sussex; who
have1 3d. a day allowed then hv the m;i_
IS'orinlk ; who are, all over England, worse fed than
>ns in the jails. < Jo, and t « - 1 1 them, when they
raise their hands from tin; pig-trough, or from the
grains-tub, and, with their dirty tongues, cry"JVb
ad to the degraded and deluded
wretch* (count of the state of their CaihoUc

forefathers, who lived under what is impudently

culled " Popish 8uper$tUi . tmsy,'3 and in

those times which we have the andaeitv to call "the
farkage*." — Look at the then picture of the French;
and, Protestant Englishmen, if yoo have the capacity
pf blushing Left, blush at the thought of how prec
that picture fits the English now! Look at all the
parts of the picture; ihefoott. the raiment, the game!
Good God ! If any one had told the old Chancellor,
that the day would come, when this picture, and even
a picture more degrading to human nature, would 6t
his own boasted country, what would he have -aid I
\\ 'hat would he have said, if he had been told, that
the time was to come, when the soldier, in England,
would have more than twice, nay, more than thrice,
the sum allowed to the day-labouring man :
potatoes would be carried to the field a< the only food
of the ploughman: when aoup-ehope would be open

to feed the Kmrlish : and when the Judges, sitting on
that very Bench on which he himself had sitten for
twenty years, would (as in the case of last year of
mplaints against Magistrates at Northaller-
ton) declare that BREAU AND WATER v. -neral
food of working people in England .? What would
he h;:\ Why, if he had been told, that there
was to be a "Reformation," accompanied by a total
devastation of Church and Poor property, upheld by
wars, creating an enormous Debt and enormous
and requiring a constantly standing army : if he had
been told this, he would have foreseen our p:
state, and would have wept for his country ; but. if

III.] poor man's friend. 51

he had, in addition, been told, that, even in the midst
of all this suffering, we should still have the ingrati-
tude and the baseness to cry " No Popery" and the
injustice and the cruelty to persecute those English-
men and Irishmen, who adhered to the faith of their
pious, moral, brave, free and happy fathers, he would
have said, " God's will be done : let them suffer." —
But, it may be said, that it was not, then, the Cath-
olic Church, but the Laws, that made the English so
happy ; for, the French had that Church as well as
the English. Aye! But, in England, the Church
was the very basis of the laws. The very first clause
of Magna Charta provided for the stability of its
property and rights. A provision for the indigent, an
effectual provision, was made by the laws that related
to the Church and its property; and this was not the
case in France ; and never was the case in any coun-
try but this : so that the English people lost more by
a " Reformation" than any other people could have
lost. — Fortescue's authority would, of itself, be enough;
but, I am not to stop with it. White, the late Rector
of Selbourne, in Hampshire, gives, in his History
of that once-famous village, an extract from a record,
stating that for disorderly conduct, men were pun-
ishedby being "compelled to fast a fortnight on bread
and beer!" This was about the year 1380, in the
reign of Richard II. Oh ! miserable "dark ages!"
This fact must be true. White had no purpose to
answer. His mention of the fact, or rather his tran-
script from the record, is purely incidental; and
trifling as the fact is, it is conclusive as to the gen-
eral mode of living in those happy days. Go, tell the
harnessed gravel-drawers, in Hampshire, to cry " No
Popery;" for, that, if the Pope be not put down, he
may, in time, compel them to fast on bread and beer,
instead of suffering them to continue to regale them-
selves on nice potatoes and pure water. — But, let us
come to Acts of Parliament, and, first, to the Act
above mentioned of King Edward III. That Act
fixes the price of meat. After naming the four sorts
of meat, beef, pork, mutton, and veal, the preamble
18*

•VsJ cobhi [No.

has these words: "These being THE FOOD OF
THE POORER SORT." This is conclusive
i- ;m incidental mention of ■ fact If ii an Act of
Parliament. It must have i» md,itisal

that we know well, that even the Judges have de-
red from the Bench, thai tin-
l of the poorer sort. What do we want more than
this to convince us, that the main body of tlr

ished by the " .*' —

But I will prone, by other Acts of Parliament, this
of Parliament to ken truth. These

an- what the wages of workmen shall be.
There are several such Acts, but one or two may suf-
fice* The Act of 23d of Eow. 111. fixes the wages,

without food, M follows. There are many 01
things mentioned, but the following will be enough
ir purpose.

s. d.
A Woman h:iy-makin<if or weeding com, for th<- day 0 1

A man filing dung -cart 0 3fc

A reaper 04

Mowing an acre of ^rass - 06

Thrashing a quarter of Wheat 0 4

The price of shoes, cloth, and of provisions, through-
out the time that this law continued in force, was as
follows : —

L. s. d.

A pair of shoes 0 u 1

Russet broad-cloth the yard 01 1

A stall-fed ox - - 14 0

A grass fed ox 0 1G0

A fat sheep unshorn 018

A fat sheep shorn 0 1 9

A fat hog 2 years old - -• 0 3 1

A fat goose - 0 0 2)

Ale, the gallon, l>v proclamation 0 0 1

it the quarter ---- 034

AV hit «* wine the gallon 006

Red wine --- 004

These prices are taken from the Preciosdm of Bishop
Fleetwood, who took them from the accounts kept

III.] poor man's friend. 53

by the bursers of convents. All the world knows,
that Fleetwood's book is of undoubted authority. —
We may then easily believe, that " beef, pork, mutton,
and veal," were " the food of the 'poorer sort," when
a dung-cart filler had more than the price of a fat
goose and a half for a dai/s ivork, and when a woman
was allowed, for a day's weeding, the price of a quart
of red wine I Two yards of the cloth made a coat
for the shepherd; and, as it cost 2s. 2d., the reaper
would earn it in 6-J- days; and, the dung-cart man
would earn very nearly a pair of shoes every day !
this dung-cart filler would earn a fat shorn sheep in
four days ; he would earn a fat hog, two years old,
in twelve days ; he would earn a grass-fed ox in
twenty days ; so that we may easily believe, that
" beef, pork, and mutton," were " the food of the
poorer sort." And, mind, this was " a priest-ridden
people;" a people "buried in Popish superstition!"
In our days of u Protestant light" and of u mental
enjoyment" the " poorer sort" are allowed by the
Magistrates of Norfolk, 3d. a day for a single man-
able to work. That is to say, a half-penny less than
the Catholic dung-cart man had ; and that 3d. will
get the " No Popery" gentleman about six ounces of
old ewe-mutton, while the Popish dung-cart man got,
for his day, rather more than the quarter of a fat
sheep. — But, the popish people might work harder
than " enlightened Protestants." They might do more
work in a day. This is contrary to all the assertions
of the feelosophers ; for they insist, that the Catholic
religion made people idle. But, to set this matter
at rest, let us look at the price of the job-labour; at
the mowing by the acre, and at the thrashing of wheat
by the quarter; and let us see how these wages are
now, compared with the price of food. I have no
parliamentary authority since the year 1821, when
a report was printed by order of the House of Com-
mons, containing the evidence of Mr. Ellman, of
Sussex, as to wages, and of Mr. George, of Norfolk,
as to price of wheat. The report was dated 18th
June, 1821. The accounts are for 20 years, on an

54 cobbi [No.

armgt, from 180() inclusive. Wc will now proceed
to see how the "popish, priest-ridden" Englishman
stands in comparison with the "No Popery" Eng-
lishman.

POPISH MAN. NO POPERY MAN.

». d. s. d.

Mowing an arm of grass - - 0 6 3 7f

Thrashing ■ quarter of Wheat 0 4 4 0

Here are " wanst improvements, Mau'm !" But, now
let ib look ;k the relatire price <f the what, which
the labourer had to purchase with bis wage*. We
have seen, that the *' p l had

top his wheat, and the evi-

dence of Mr. George states, that the
Protestant" had to give i • sh Ming's a bushel for his

ieat ; that is 'i I ti nm as much as the " popish fool"

who suffered himself to be " priest-ridden." So that

t!i<' " enlightened? man. In order to make him as well

off as the ''darfe-ages" man nras, ought to receive

\hiUing$) instead of 3*. !\<l. lot mowing an

■ of grass; and he, in like manner, ought to re-

e, for thrashing a quarter of wheat, eight shil-

Ungsi instead of the four shilling* which he does

receive, [fwe had the records, we should doubtless

find, that Irelano was in the same state.

56. There ! That settles the matter as to a,
good living. Now, as to the progress of poverty and
misery, amongst the working people, during the last
half century, take these facts; in the year 1771, that
is, 55 years ago, Arthur Young, who was afterwards
Secretary to the Board of Agriculture, published a
work on the state of the agriculture of the country,
in which he gave the allowance for the keeping of a
firm-hihourcr. his irijc and three children, which
allowance, reckoning according to the present mo-
ney-price of the articles which he allows amounted
to 13*. \</. He put the sum, at what he deemed the
lowest possible sum. on which the people could exist
Alas ! we shall find, that thev can be made to exist
upon little more than one-half 'of this sum !

111.] poor man's friend. 55

57. This allowance of Mr. Arthur Young was
made, observe, in 1771, which was before the Old
American War took place. That war made some
famous fortunes for admirals and commodores and
contractors and pursers and generals and commissa-
ries ; but, it was not the Americans, the French, nor
the Dutch, that gave the money to make these for-
tunes. They came out of English taxes; and the
heaviest part of those taxes fell upon the working
people, who, when they were boasting of " victories"
and rejoicing that the "Jack: Tars" had got "prize-
money," little dreamed that these victories were .pur-
chased by them, and that they paid fifty pounds for
every crown that sailors got in prize-money ! In short,
this American war caused a great mass of new taxes
to be laid on, and the people of England became a
great deal poorer than they ever had been before.
During that- war, they BEGAN TO EAT POTA-
TOES, as something to "save bread." The poorest
of the people, the very poorest of them, refused, for a
long while, to use them in this way ; and even when
I was ten years old, which was just about fifty years
ago; the poor people would not eat potatoes, except
with meat, as they would cabbages, or carrots, or any
other moist vegetable. But, by the end of the Ame-
can war, their stomachs had come to ! By slow de-
grees they had been reduced to swallow this pig-meat,
(and bad pig-meat too,) not, indeed, without grum-
bling; but to swallow it; to be reduced, thus, many
degrees in the scale of animals.

58. At the end of twenty-four years from the .date
of Arthur Young's allowance, the poverty and de-
gradation of the English people had made great
strides. We were now in the year 1795, and a new war,
and a new series of " victories and prizes" had begun.
But who it was that suffered for these, out of whose
blood and flesh and bones they came, the allowance
now (in 1795) made to the poor labourers and their
families will tell. There was, in* that year, a Ta-
ble, or Scale, of allowance, framed by the Magis-
trates of Berkshire. This is, by no means, a hard

50 cobbetVs [No.

county; and therefore it is reasonable to suppose,
thai the scale was as ^ood a one for the poor as anv
in Bnghtnd. According to this scale, which was
printed and published, and also acted upon for years.
tin1 weekly allowance, for a man. his wife and three
children, was, according to present money-prices, lit.
4<t. Thus it had, in the space of twenty-four .
fell from 13*. 1'/. to 11.9. \d. Thus were the people
(drought to the pig-meat! Food, fit for men, they
could not have with 11*. 4cZ. a week for five per-
sons.

59. One would have thought, that to make a hu-
man being live npoftdd. a <Uiy. and find fuel, clothi/ns.
tasking, and bedding) out of the Ad., besides
eating and drinking; Wia impossible; and one would
have thought it impossible forany-thing not of hellish
birth and breeding, to entertain a wish to make poor
creatures, and our neighbour* too, exist in such a
State of horrible misery and degradation as the la-
bourers of England were condemned to by this scale
of 1?'.)."). Alaa ! this was happiness and honour; this

was famous living; (his 1 la. id* a week was luxury
and feast in is. compared to what we NOW BE-
EiOLD! For now the allowance, according to pre-
sent money-prices^ i< B*. ■ week for the man, his
wife, and three children; that is I '. In

words. TWO PENCE AND FIVE SEVENTHS

OF ANOTHER PENN V, FOR A DAY ! There,
that is England now] That is what the base
wretches, who are fattening upon the peoph
hour, call "the envy of surrounding nations and the
admiration of thewrorld." This is what Sib Fran-
KDETT applauds; and he applauds the mean
and cruel and dastardly ruffians, whom he calls, '-tin1
country gentlemen of England." and whose i'<
aity berries up; while he well knows, (hat if is they
(and he amongst the rest) who arc the real and only
cause of this devil-like barbarity, which (and he
well knows that too) could not possibly be practised
without the constant existence and occasional em-
ployment of that species of force, which is so abhor-

III.] poor man's friend. 57

rent to the laws of England, and of which this Bur-
dett's son forms a part. The poor creatures, if they
complain; if their hunger make them cry out, are
either punished by even harder measures, or are
slapped into prison. Alas ! the jail is really become
a place of relief,' a scene of comparative good living':
hence the invention of the tread-mill! What shall
we see next '? Workhouses, badges, hundred-houses,
select-vestries, tread-mills, gravel-carts, and har-
ness ! What shall we see next ! And what should
we see at last, if this infernal THING could conti-
nue for only a few years longer ?

60. In order to form a judgment of the cruelty of
making our working neighbours live upon 2| d. a day ;
that is to say 2d. and rather more than a halfpenny,
let us see what the surgeons allow in the hospitals,
to patients with broken limbs, who, of course, have no
work to do, and who cannot even take any exercise.
In Guy's Hospital, London, the daily allowance to
patients, having simple fractures, is this : 6 ounces
of meat ; 12 ounces of bread ; 1 pint of broth ; 2 quarts
of good beer. This is the daily allowance. Then,
in addition to this, the same patient has 12 ounces of
butter a week. These articles, for a week, amount to
not less at present retail prices (and those are the
poor man's prices,) than 6s. 9d. a week ; while the
working man is allowed Is. Id. a week ! For, he
cannot and he will not see his wife and children actu-
ally drop down dead with hunger before his face;
and this is what he must see, if he take to himself
more than a fifth of the allowance for the family.

61. Now, pray, observe, that surgeons, and parti-
cularly those eminent surgeons who frame rules and
regulations for great establishments like that of Guy's
Hospital, are competent judges of what nature re-
quires in the way of food and of drink. They are,
indeed, not only competent judges, but they are the
best of judges: they know precisely what is neces-
sary ; and having the power to order the proper al-
lowance, they order it. If, then, they ma}?e an al-
lowance like that, which we have seen, \a a person

58 COBl:i [No.

who is under a regimen for a broken limb ; to a person
who does m fro/7/, and who 18, nine in,, ten,

unable to take any exercise at all. even that of walk-
ing about, at lea>l in the open air ; if tie- eminent sur-
geons of London d< nee
WOrtk of victuals and drink, a week, y to
IQcfa a patient ; if they think tli;; for
SO DHDCO in SUch a case ; what mOSl that man be
made of, wb<> can allow to a . a man
fourteen hours every day in the /'//-
//// of rictnala and drink for
the week! Let me not however ask what --that

iiKin" C8D be mad.- of; I OI N is a monger and n
man: it is a muni* n : not a murderer with

tin- Knife or the pistol, but with the more eiind in

ment ation. And yet, such m

Church and i

liy p

tf do as they would be done />y. and which, I

first chapter to the last, menaces them with penish-

nit'iit. if I . the

widow, 01

02 But, not only u the patient, in a hospital, diva
so much more ampl) B ! than the working man ; the

are fed better, and much

now are ! Here i> a that

country of M roast beef and plumb pudding : " that, as
the i i-. "envy of sorronnd ing nations

and admiration of the world." Aye; the coui.
WAS all these; but, it is now precisely tie
oi' them all. We have jusl seen that the honest la-
is allowed 2%d. a day ; and that will
buy him a pound and a half of go . and

no more, not a single crumb more. This is all he
Well enough might the Hampshire Baronet, Sir
John Pollen, latelv. at a meeting at Andover, call the
labourers " poor devils" an I say, that they had
" scarcely a n A pound and a half

of breaJ a day. and nothing more, and that, to>
Now. then, how fare the pri

III.] poor man's friend. 59

the jails? Why, if they be CONVICTED FELONS,
they are, say the Berkshire jail-regulations, "to have
ONLY BREAD and water, with vegetables occasion-
ally from the garden." Here, then, they are already
better fed than the honest labouring man. Aye, and
this is not all ; for, this is only the week-day fare ; for,
they are to have, "on Sundays, SOME MEAT
and broth /" Good God ! And the honest working
man can never, never smell the smell of meat ! This is
" envy of surrounding nations" with the devil to it !
This is a state of things for Burdett to applaud.

63. But we are not even yet come to a sight of the
depth of our degradation. These Berkshire jail-regu-
lations make provision for setting the convicted pris-
oners, in certain cases, TO WORK, and, they say,
" if the surgeon think it necessary, the WORK-
ING PRISONERS may be allowed MEAT AND
BROTH ON WEEK-DAYS ;" and on Sundays,
of course ! There it is ! There is the " envy and
admiration !" There is the state to which Mr. Pros-
perity and Mr. Canning's best Parliament has brought
us. There is the result of " victories" and prize-mo-
ney and battles of Waterloo and of English ladies kiss-
ing, "Old Blucher." There is the fruit, the natural
fruit, of anti-jacobinism and battles on the Serpentine
River and jubilees and heaven-born ministers and
sinking-funds and " public credit" and army and na-
vy contracts. There is the fruit, the natural, the
nearly (but not quite) ripe fruit of it all : the CON-
VICTED FELON is, if he do not work at all, alleg-
ed, on week-days, some vegetables in addition to his
bread, and, on Sundays, both meat and broth; and, if
the CONVICTED FELON work, if he be a
WORKING convicted felon, he is allowed meat and
broth all the week round; while, hear it Burdett, thou
Berkshire magistrate ! hear it, all ye base miscreants
who have persecuted men because thev sought a re-
form ! The WORKING CONVICTED FELON is
allowed meat and broth every day in the year, while
the WORKING HONEST MAN is allowed nothing
but dry bread, and of thai not half a belly-full ! And
19

GO cobbett's

! e that seem surprised thai cri
range, to he sure ; that men should
like I broth better than I

like to v dry bread ! No wonder that new

juifs arise V that there ai wo or three

or four or five oe county, and that as much is

now written upon " prison discipline" as upon almost
any subjecl Hint is going. But, why so good, so gen-
erou DNS The I mot

or, to be starved is no part of tneir sen-
re are SURGEONS who have some-
thing to say ! They know very well that a man may
iff necessary food from him.
Felons are not apt to lie down and / for want

of food. I i re in large towns, where the news

of any cruelty soon gets about. So that the felons
hi' in their favour. It is in the

villages, tl villages, where the greatest cruel-

re committed.
64. Here, then, in thi* contrast between th<
mem of the WORKING I ELON and that of the
WORKING HONEST MAN, we have a complete
picture of the present -tate of England ; that horrible
state, to which, b) slew degrees, this once happy
country has been br II should now proceed

to shorn as I proposed in the fir^t paragraph of this
present Number, HOW THERE CAME TO BE
BO MUCH PO\ ERT1 \M» MISERY IN BNG-
LAND j ' . this is the main thing, it h
that, if we do if our mil

ry unlikely to adopt any effectual reme-
dy. But, Deft <ti tin- part of mv subject,
let i: beyond all possibility of doubt, that what
1 siv relatively to the situation bf, and the allowances
to, the labourers sod their families, IS TRUE. The
M of such situation and allowances I shall show
hereafter j but lei me tirst show, by a reference to in-
fabitable facta, thai the situation ami allowances are
such as, or worse than, I have described them . To
do this, no way seems to me lo be so fair, so likely to
be free from error, so likely to produce a suitable im-

III.} poor man's friend. 61

pression on the minds of my readers, and so likely
to lead to some useful practical result; no way seems
to me so well calculated to answer these purposes, as
that of taking the very village, in which, I, at this
moment, happen to be, and to describe, with names
and dates, the actual state of its labouring people, as
far as that state is connected with steps taken under
the poor-laws.

i 65. This village was in former times a very con-
siderable place, as is manifest from the size of the
church as well as from various other circumstances. It
is now, as a church living, united with an adjoining
parish, called Vernon Dean, which also has its church,
at a distance of about three miles from the church of
this parish. Both parishes put together now contain
only eleven hundred, and a few odd, inhabitants, men,
women, children, and all; and yet, the great tithes
are supposed to be worth two or three thousand pounds
a year, and the small tithes about six hundred pounds
a year. Formerly, before the event which is called
" The Reformation," there were two Roman Catho-
lic priests living at the parsonage houses in these two
parishes. They could not marry, and could, therefore
have no wives and families to keep out of the tithes;
and, WITH PART OF THOSE TITHES,
THEY, AS THE LAW PROVIDED, MAIN-
TAINED THE POOR OF THESE TWO PA-
RISHES ; and, the canons of the church commanded
them to distribute the portion to the poor and the stran-
ger, " with their own hands, in humility and mercy."
66. This, as to church and poor, was the state of
these villages, in the "dark ages" of " Romish
superstition." What ! No poor-laws ? No poor-
rates? What horribly unenlightened times! No se-
lect vestries ? Dark ages indeed ! But, how stands
these matters now? Why, the two parishes are
moulded into one church living. Then the Great
Tithes (amounting to two or three thousand a year)
belong to some part of the Chapter (as they call it)
of Salisbury. The Chapter leases them out, as they
would a house or a farm, and they are now rented by

02 cobh; [No.

John Kino, who is one oi this bappy nation's greatest
and oldest pensioners. So that, away go the great
tithes, not crle wheat spent in

the parish. The Small Tithes belong to a \ i
who i- one Fisher, ;i the me. bMm

Salisbury, who has not resided here for a long while;
and who amed John Qujb, who being

the son of a little fa
in Wiltshire, the nam<

: and, in the fulness of time, became a
Su that, away go also th<* small tits
(amounting to about 50&. 01 BOOL ■ year); and, out of
the large church reyeaues;* . church-

and-poor bes ; out of the

!<• of them, there remains only the amount of the
curate, Mr. John ( . !ary. which does not.

perhaps, ezcee or ■ hundred pounds, and a

part 01 which, at any rate, I dare Bay, he does not ex-
pend in tl away goes, 1 say, all the rest
of ihc small tithes, leaving not so ■ mess of
milk or a dozen of eggs, much less a tithe-pig, to be
consumed in the parafL

C7. As to the poor, the parishes continue to be in
t>ro; so that 1 am I idered as speaking of the

parish of LTphosbanp only, you are aware, I
amongst the last of the acts of the famous Jcbilse-
enahle parishes to establish
SELECT VESTRIES; and ..m? of thes<
now exists in this parish. And now, let me explain
to you the nature and tendency of this Jubilee-Act.

ore tlii- Act was passed, oxx rseersqfthepoorA
full authority to

Tray mark that. Then again, before this Act i
passed, any >> ice might, on com-

plaint of any poo f. Mark that

A select vestry is / of the most considerable

rate-payers. Mark that. Then, mark these tilings:
this Jnbilee-Actybrouil the overset r to grant any re-
lief other than such as shall * by the m
vestry: it forbids ONE justice to order relief, in any

III.] poor man's friend. 63

case, except in a case of emergency: it forbids
MORE THAN ONE to order relief, except on oath
that the complainant has applied to the select vestry
(where there is one,) and has been refused relief by
it ; and that, in no case, the justice's order shall be
for more than a month; and, moreover, that when a
poor person shall appeal to justices from a select ves-
try, the justices, in ordering relief, or refusing, shall
have u regard to the conduct and CHARACTER
of the applicant /"

68. From this Act, one would imagine, that over-
seers and justices were looked upon as being too soft
and yielding a nature ; too good, too charitable, too
liberal to the poor! In order that the select vestry
may have an agent suited to the purposes that the Act
manifestly has in view, the Act authorizes the select
vestry to appoint what is called an u assistant over-
seer" and to give him a salary out of the poor-rates.
Such is this Jubilee-Act, one of the last Acts of the
Jubilee-reign, that reign, which gave birth to the
American war, to Pitt, to Perceval, Ellenborough,
Sidmouth, and Castlereagh, to a thousand millions of
taxes and another thousand millions of debt: such is
the Select Vestry Act; and this now little trifling
village of Uphusband has a Select- Vestry ! Aye, and
an " Assistant Overseer," too, with a salary of
FIFTY POUNDS A YEAR, being, as you will
presently see, about a SEVENTH PART OF THE
WHOLE OF THE EXPENDITURE ON THE
POOR!

69. The Overseers make out and cause to be print-
ed and published, at the end of every four weeks, an
account of the disbursements. I have one of these
accounts now before me ; and I insert it here, word
for word, as follows : —

70. " The disbursements of Mr. T. Child and Mr.
C. Church, bread at Is. 2d. per gallon. Sept. 25th,
1826.

04 ktt's

WIDOWS.

£ 8. d.

Blake, Ann 0 8 0

Bray, Mary 0 8 0

Cook, Ann 0 7 6

Clark, Mary 0 10 0

Gilbert, Hannah D 8 €

Marshall. Sarah ----- 0 10 0

Smith, M;-r\ - 0 8 0

Westrip, Jane - ;i

Withers, Ann - - - - - - 0

Dance, Susan 080

BASTARDS.

0 7 0

0 G 0

o : 0

0 6 0

2 children - - - - 0 19 0

2 children ----() 12 0

0 10 0

0 8 0

0 6 0

0 8 0

0 8 0

0 6 0

0 6 0

0 6 0

OLD MEN.

Blake, John 0 16 0

Cannon, John 0 14 0

Cummins, Peter 0 16 0

Bopoood, John 0 16 0

Hoktan, William 0 6 0

Marshall, Charles 0 16 0

Nutley, George 0 7 0

FAMILIES.

Bowley, Mary 040

Baverstock, Elizabeth, 2 children 0 9 4

Cook, Levi - - - 5 children 0 5 4

£. ». d.

13 6

5 8 0

4 11 0

III.] poor man's friend. 65

FAMILIES.

£. s. d. £. e. d.

Kingston, John - - 6 ditto - 0 10 0

Knight, John - - . 6 ditto - - 0 10 0

Newman, David - - 5 ditto - 0 5 4

Pain, Robert - - - 5 ditto - - 0 5 4

Synea, William - - 6 ditto - 0 10 0

Smith, Sarah (Moses) 1 ditto - - 0 4 8

Studman, Sarah - 2 ditto - 0 9 4

White, Joseph - - - 8 ditto - - 0 19 4

Wise, William - - 6 ditto - 0 10 0

Waldren, Job - - - 5 ditto - - 0 5 4

Noyce, M. Batt, 7 do. 6 weeks' pay 1 2 0

6 10 0

EXTRA IN THIS MONTH.

Thomas Farmer, ill 3 days - - 0 4 0

Levi Cook, ill 4 weeks and 1 day 1 13 4

Joseph White's child, 6 weeks - 0 7 0

Jane Westrip's rent - - - - 0 2 0

William Fisher, 1 month ill - - 1 12 0

Paid boy, 2 days ill 0 0 8

James Orchard, ill 1 02

James Orchard's daughter, ill - 0 8 0

Adders and Sparrows - - - - 0 2 3J

Wicks for Carriage - - - - 0 1 0

Paid Mary Hinton 0 4 0

Joseph Farmer, ill 3 days - - 0 2 9

Thomas Cummins 060

Samuel Day, and son, ill - - 0 8 2

6 11

Total amount for the 4 weeks - - 27 3 10£

71. Under the head of "Widows" are, generally,
old women wholly unable to work; and that of "Old
Men" are men past all labour: in some of the instan-
ces lodging places, in very poor and wretched houses,
are found these old people, and, in other instances,
they have the bare money ; and, observe, that money
is FOR FOUR WEEKS ! Gracious God! Have
we had no mothers ourselves ! Were we not born

66 cobbett's

of woman ! Shall we not feel then for the poor
Widow who, in her old age, is doomed to exi>:
two shillings a week, or threepence halfpenny a
and to find herself clothes and washing and fuel ana
bedding out of that! And, the poor old men, the very
happiest of whom jets, you see, less than id, a day,
at the end of 70 or 80 years of a life, all hut six of
which have heen years of labour! I tare thought it
right to put Monks instead of the oai t the

Stroud head. Men of less ri less

free from all illicit intercourse, than the members of
the Select Vestry of Uphosband, would, instead of
the word basiara\ri have used the more amiable one

of u love-child ;n and. it may not be wholly imp:
to a-k these rigid moralists, whether i: .are,

that they are guilty of LI UKL. aye. of real criminal
lihel. in causing these poor girls' names to L
anil published in this way. Let them remember. I
the greater the truth the greater the lihel J and. I.-t
them remember, that the mol the children

too, may have memories! Hut. it is under the In
of ''FAMILIES" that we see that which is most
worthy of our attention. Observe, thai eight shU-
ling's (i meek is the wages for a day labourer in the Til-
lage. And, you see, it is only when there are more
than Jour children that the family is allowed any-
thing at all. 'Levi Cook," for instance, has
children, and he receives allowance for one child.
"Joseph White" has eight children, and he rece:
allowance for four. There are three widows undei
this head ; but, it is where there is a man. the father
of the family, that we ought to look with attention;
and here we find, that nothing «t all is allowed to a
family of a man. a wife, and 'ren. beyond

the bare eight shillings a week o\' wages; and this
l- even worse than the allowance which I contrasted
with that of the hospital patients and convicted fe-
lons; for there I suppo>ed the family to consist of a
man, his wife and three children. It I am told, that
the farmers, that the occupiers of houses and land,
are so poor that they cannot do more for their wretched

III.] poor man's friend. 67

work-people and neighbours ; then I answer and say,
What a selfish, what a dastardly wretch is he, who
is not ready to do all he can to change this disgrace-
ful, this horrible state of things !

72. But, at any rate, is the salary of the " Assist-
ant Overseer" necessary 1 Cannot that be dispen-
sed with ? Must he have as much as all the widows,
or all the old men ? And his salary, together with
the charge for printing and other his various expen-
ses, will come to a great deal more than go to all the
widows and old men too! Why not, then, do without
him, and double the allowance to these poor old wo-
men, or poor old men, who have spent their strength
in raising crops in the parish ? I went to see with
my own eyes some of the "parish houses," as they
are called ; that is to say, the places where the select
vestry put the poor people into to live. Never did my
eyes before alight on such scenes of wretchedness !
There was one place, about 18 feet long and. 10 wide,
in which I found the wife of Isaac Holden, which,
when all were at home, had to contain nineteen per-
sons ; and into which, I solemnly declare, I would not
put 19 pigs, even if well-bedded with straw. Another
place was shown me by Job Waldron's daughter ;
another by Thomas Carey's wife. The bare ground,
and that in holes too, was the floor in both these places.
The windows broken, and the holes stuffed with rags,
or covered with rotten bits of board. Great openings
in the walls, parts of which were fallen down, and
the places stopped with hurdles and straw. The
thatch rotten, the chimneys leaning, the doors but bits
of doors, the sleeping holes shocking both to sight and
smell; and, indeed, every-thing seeming to say:
" These are the abodes of wretchedness, which, to be
believed possible, must be seen and felt: these are
the abodes of the descendants of those amongst whom
beef, pork, mutton and veal were the food of the poorer
sort ; to this are come, at last, the 'descendants of
those common people of England, who, Fortescue
tells us, were clothed throughout in good woollens,
whose bedding, and other furniture in their houses,

68 cobbett's poor man's friend.

were of wool, and that in creat store, and who were
well provided with all -orts of household goods, every
one having all thing! tnat conduce to maKe life easy
and happy !"

?;* I have now, my friends of Preston, amply pro-
ved, that what I nave stated relative to the ,

[. and allowance! to, the labourers is TRUE.

And now we are to do all we can to remove the evil ;

1 the aril mnai !»♦-. 01 Biurland must be

tank r<>rair«<; and. never will tin1 evil he rn;
until its causes, remote as well as near, he all ch-arlv
ii. I. within -lies for the health and

happiness of you all,

I remain,
Your faithful friend, and most obedient servant,

WlL COBBETT.

THE END.

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