“I do not think,” replied he, “that it is very extraordinary, for we must consider, in the first place, that to build vessels like ours, would be too hazardous an exertion for a people who are governed despotically, and who can never feel secure of the possession of their property. And as to your ‘rich merchandise of the east,’ you will not find much of that in the neighbourhood of Bagdad at present; you read of such in the Arabian tales—but nothing remains now, but the misery, the decay, and the desolation, which were so often foretold by the prophets.”
2d.—I now perceive the meaning of the last part of Thomson’s description of happy Harvest Home—
———————— Thus they rejoice: nor think
That with to-morrow’s sun their annual toil
Begins again the never-ceasing round.
For no sooner is that event over, than the labourer begins the preparations for a future harvest. The ploughs are all at work to-day, and I see the fields which have but just yielded up their rich burden, again prepared to receive the seeds of another crop. But this, my uncle says, is generally of a different species from the last, in order to make a change in the nature of the nourishment drawn from the soil. The ploughing in of the old stubble enriches the ground, or some other manure is added; and, indeed, I see it is, as he says, “a continual chain of production and reproduction.” In some parts of the country, wheat is not sown till early in spring; but this depends on the nature of the soil. Oats are always sown in spring, but that grain is not commonly cultivated in this part of the country.
“The rich soil, then, of Gloucestershire, is better suited to the food of man, than to the food of horses?” said I to my uncle. “Yes,” he replied, “if you mean oats, by what you call the food of horses; but I assure you, that in a considerable part of Great Britain, the oat is the chief food of man—and most happily for him, he can live on it. In the cold hills of the Highlands of Scotland—and in the poor soil of parts of England and Ireland, the oat thrives better than wheat, and not being put into the ground till the depth of winter is past, it is less liable to be injured by the effects of frost and damp. Barley, too, has this merit of growing in poor or rather in light soils, and of supplying food for numbers.”
I told my uncle that I was very desirous of learning something of agriculture. He advised me to observe the various operations of husbandry myself. “When you are interested in the progress of the work,” he said, “you will find it easy to comprehend the principles; far better than if I were to give you a lecture every day on the subject.
“Now is the time to begin. The harvest, you see, is safely lodged, and that of the coming year is preparing. In the warmer regions of the earth, a very slight degree of cultivation is sufficient; and the natural sloth of man is encouraged by the small quantity of labour necessary to till the earth. Here, however, that is not the case: our climate is so uncertain, that constant labour is necessary to success; and in every season of the year, some operations in husbandry are going on. The farmer must be at all times alert, either to prepare for something that is to be done, or to watch his growing crops, and help their progress by hoeing, weeding, earthing, and many other processes; but then he has, at all times, the enjoyment that labour brings with it, and the happiness which arises from industry. His best feelings, too, are excited, for he receives, with a grateful heart, the success with which Providence blesses his labours; or, if they fail—if the season is unfavourable, and blights his hopes, he learns to bear with humble submission, and sees that even the best human skill requires aid from Him who is Lord over the elements.”
3d.—Another letter from Hertford rejoiced all our eyes yesterday. My aunt is so pleased with his journal, that she is sure you will like it too; and I have copied a large piece for you, dear mamma.
“The Isle of Sky has very much interested me. Sky is the Scandinavian word for clouds. It is the Isle of Mist of the Gaëlic poet. The whole island is extremely hilly, and in the north-east part of it the mountains are very picturesque, the rocks and cliffs often assuming a variety of forms, like castles and towers. One remarkable rock, which is said to be 160 feet high, represents a spire so exactly, that it is so called by seamen, to whom it is a well-known sea mark.
“The cliffs, on the eastern side of the promontory of Strathaird, contain a number of caves, one of which has been celebrated in history for having been amongst the places where Prince Charles concealed himself. We visited another, which is called the Spar Cave. The entrance is formed by a narrow fissure in the cliff, which, for the first hundred feet, is dark and wet: then comes a steep acclivity; but that once surmounted, the whole interior comes into view, covered with stalactites, disposed in a variety of grotesque forms, and rising to the height of upwards of forty feet. In the floor there are numerous little pools, which are filled with groups of crystals, in a state of constant augmentation, and which afforded us a gratifying opportunity of seeing the process by which calcareous spar is formed.