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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 

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COTTAGE ECONOMY; 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 mFOP.MATION RELATIVE TO THE BREWING OF BEER, MAKING OF BREAD, 
 KEEPING OF COWS,fPIGS, 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 
 FOB 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. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY JOHN DOYLE, 12r LIBERTY^T. 
 
 STEREOTTPED BT CONNER & COOKE. 
 

 tb'^ 
 
 Entered according to act of Congresa, in the year of our Lord 1338 
 by John Doyle, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the South- 
 ern District of New-York. 
 
 /J- J r- 
 
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, " " " . ' ^^ 
 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 
 IWDEX, 158 
 
COTTAGE ECONOMY 
 
 No. I. 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To THE Labouring Classes op 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 
 Inde.v, 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 ; w^hereas the most liberal disposition, a 
 disposition precisely the contrary of that of the miser, 
 is perfectly consistent Avith economy. 
 
 3. EcoNOxMY 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, v/hether 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* 
 
6 rNTRODUCTION. [No. 
 
 a nB.tion permanetiil'i/ great, consisting, for the greater 
 pari, of wretched and miserable families. 
 
 4. In every view of the matter, therefore, it is de- 
 sirablcj 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 fanjily to be 
 happy, they must be well supplied with/oocZ 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 loant of the necessaries of life. 
 The doctrines which fanaticism preaches, and which 
 teach men to be content with jjover^y/, 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 Godlo 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 man. There must be different ranks and degrees 
 m every civil society, and, indeed, so it is even amongst 
 the 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 hy 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, 
 "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 1 Brothers and sisters are a mutual 
 support. We see them, in almost every case, grow up 
 into prosperity, when they act the part that the 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 ev^ery 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 suffer 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, bringing up, 
 or rearing up; and nothing more. This includes 
 every thing with regard to the wind 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 ten, it has nothing 
 at all to do. It is, indeed, proper, and it is the duty 
 
I.] INTRODUCTION. 9 
 
 of all parents, to teach, or cause to be taught, their 
 children afs much as they can of books, after ^ and not 
 before, all Ihe 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, 
 lo 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. W^hat rea- 
 son have we, then, to presume, that our children are 
 not to do the same ? If they be, as now and then 
 one will be, endued with extraordinary powers of mind, 
 those powers ma^r 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 
 aliuays 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- 
 by, the descendants of the present labourer become 
 gentlemen. 
 
 14. This is the natural progress. It is by attempt- 
 ting to reach the top at a single leap that so much 
 misery is produced in. the world ; and the propensity 
 to make such attempts has been cherished and encou- 
 raged by the strange projects that we have witnessed 
 of late years for making the labourers virtuous and 
 happi/ 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 
 habitual to them, so that they never shall be liable to 
 fall into the contrary ; 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 free 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 circumstances of high 
 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. They 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 
 
IJ INTRODUCTION. 11 
 
 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 deject-ed 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 
 health, who has a blooming and dutiful and cheerful 
 and happy family about him, and who passes his day 
 of 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 la^^iness, 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 1 
 
12 INTRODUCTION. [Nc 
 
 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 be religion to regard as 
 blessings those things, those very things, which God 
 expressly numbers amongst his curses 1 Poverty 
 never finds a place amongst the blessings promised 
 by God. His blessings are of a directly opposite de- 
 scription ; flocks, herds, corn, wine and oil ; a smiling 
 land ; a rejoicing people ; abundance for the body and 
 gladness of the heart : these are tne blessings which 
 God promises to the industrious, the sober, the careful, 
 and the upright. Let no man, then, believe that, to 
 be poor and Avretched is a mark of God's favour; and 
 let no man remain in that state, if he, by any honest 
 means, can rescue himself from it. 
 
 18. Poverty leads to all sorts of evil consequences. 
 Want, horrid want, is the great parent of crime. To 
 have a dutiful family, the father's principle of rule 
 must be love not fear. His sway must be gentle, or 
 he will have only an unwilling and short-lived obedi- 
 ence. But it is given to but few men to be gentle and 
 good-humoured amidst the various torments attendant 
 on pinching poverty. A competence is, therefore, the 
 first thing to be thought of; it is the foundation of all 
 good in the labourer's dwelling; without it little but 
 misery can be expected. " Health, peace, and compe- 
 tence,^^ one of the wisest of men regards as the only 
 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. Beset with 
 wants, having a mind continually harassed with fears 
 of starvation, who can act with energy, who can 
 calmly think ? To provide a good living, therefore, 
 for himself and family, is the very first duty of every 
 man. " Two things," says Agur, " have I asked-; 
 deny me them not before 1 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 the 
 
I.] BREWING. la 
 
 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, IQth July^ 1821. 
 
 BREWING BEER. 
 
 20. Before I proceed to give any directions about 
 brewing, let me 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 old man 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 breio his oaon beer j 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 lax 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 45. Qd.^ a bushel, and the barley costs only 3^. 
 This brings the bushel of malt to 8s. including the 
 maltster's charge for malting. If the tax were taken 
 off the malt, malt would he 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 va- 
 rious sorts to the maltster. The hops pay a tax of 
 2d.'\ a pound ; and a bushel of malt requires, in ge- 
 neral, a pound of hops ; if these two taxes were taken 
 off, therefore, the consumption of barley and of hops 
 would be exceedingly increased ; for double the pre- 
 sent quantity would be demanded, 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, they must get 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 losing its destructive power ; and 
 things are, with regard to the labourers, coming back 
 to what they were Joj-ty years ago, 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 iimnediately ; 
 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 use/id strength in it; that it contains 
 nothing 7iutritious ; 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- 
 
 " 4fi. 6A English, equal to one doUar. 
 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 sevenpen'ce ; 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 adlow one hour; and here we have a 
 woman occupied no less than three hundred and sixty- 
 five hours in the year, or thirty whole day's, at twelve 
 hours in the day j 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 all 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 forAvard ; 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 average, be demolished every year. 
 To these outgoings must be 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 week, 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 : 
 
 
 
 
 L. 
 
 JS. 
 
 d. 
 
 181b. of tea 
 
 
 
 4 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 541b. of sugar 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 11 
 
 6 
 
 365 pints of milk 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 
 
 Tea tackle 
 
 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 
 
 200 fires 
 
 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 8 
 
 30 days' work 
 
 
 
 
 
 15 
 
 
 
 Loss by going to. 
 
 public 
 
 -house 
 
 1 
 
 19 
 
 
 
 L.ll 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 the dollar : Thus As 4». 6d. : 1 dollar: : III. 7t. 2i. I 
 £0 dollai's 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 Avanted in general. Little 
 children, that do not work, should not have beer. 
 Broth, porridge, or something in that way, is the 
 thing for them. However, 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 man 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 pf good 
 beer for a labourer's family, these 274 gallons, xe- 
 qmxQQ ffteen bushels of malt and (for let. us do the 
 thing well) Jifteen pounds of hops. The malt is now 
 eight shillings a bushel, aiid 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 BREWING. [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 : 
 
 L. s. d. 
 15 bushels of malt . . . 6 
 15 pounds of hops . ; . 15 
 • Wear of utensils . . . 10 0- 
 
 L.l 5 
 
 27. Here, then, is the sum of four pounds two shil- 
 lings and twopence saved every year. The utensils 
 for brewing are, a brass kettle, a mashing tub, cool- 
 ers, (for which washing tubs may serve,) a half 
 hogshead, 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 last, 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, arising the very first year^ 
 from quitting the troublesome and pernicious prac- 
 tice of drinking tea. The saving of each succeed- 
 ing year would, if you chose it, purchase a silver 
 mug to hold half a pint at least. However, the sa- 
 ving would naturally be applied to purposes more 
 conducive to the well-being and happiness of a 
 family. 
 
 28. It is not, howevjer, the were saving to which 
 I look. This is, indeed, a matter of great import- 
 ance, 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 man's 
 wages for the year; and when vi^e consider all the 
 advantages 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 sums 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 dehaucher of youth, and 
 a maker of misery for old age. In the fifteen bushels 
 of malt there are 570 pounds weight of sioeet ; 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 BREWING. [No. 
 
 Hence succeeds a softness, an effeminacy, a seeking 
 for the fire-side, a lurking in the bed, and, in shorty 
 all the characteristics of idleness, for which, in this 
 case, real want of strength furnishes an apology. 
 The tea drinking fills the public-house, makes the 
 frequenting of it habitual, corrupts boys as soon as 
 they are able to move from home, and does little less 
 for the girls, to whom the gossip of the tea-table is 
 no bad preparatory school for the brothel. At the 
 very least, it teaches them idleness. The everlast- 
 ing dawdling ahout with the slops of the tea tackle, 
 gives them a relish for nothing that requires strength 
 and activity. 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. 
 To shut poor young creatures up in manufactories 
 is bad enough ; but there, at any rate, they do some- 
 thing that is useful ; whereas, the girl that has been 
 brought up merely to boil the tea-kettle, and to assist 
 in the gossip inseparable 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. 
 
 33. But is it in the power of any man, any good 
 labourer, who has attained the age of fifty, to look 
 back upon the last thirty years of his life, without 
 cursing the day in which tea was introduced into 
 England ? Where 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? When 
 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 will 
 make up for it by working during his breakfast 
 time ! 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. ?1 
 
 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 afl>ay 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 
 things 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; but 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 heer. 
 
22 BREWING. fNo. 
 
 36. The kind of beer, for a labourer's family, that 
 is to say, the degree of strength, must depend on cir- 
 cumstances ', on the numerousness of the family ; on 
 the season of the year, and various other things. But, 
 generally speaking, beer half the strength of that men- 
 tioned in paragraph 25 will be quite strong enough ; 
 for that is, at least, one-third stronger than the farm- 
 house ^'' small beer,'''' Avhich, however, as long experi- 
 ence has proved, is best suited to the purpose. A ju- 
 dicious labourer would probably ahvays have some 
 ale in his house, and have small beer for the general 
 drink. There is no reason why he should not keep 
 Christmas as well as the farmer ; and when he is 
 wmDing, reaping, or is at any other hard work, a 
 quart, or three pints, of really good fat ale a-day is 
 by no means too much. However, circumstances vary 
 so much with diiferent labourers, that as to the sort of 
 beer, and the number of brewings, and the times of 
 brewing, 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 bite easily, and see the 
 shell thin and filled up well with flour. If it bite hard 
 and steely, the malt is bad. There is pale malt and 
 brown 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 qfjlonr. If the barley was bad ; thin, or 
 steely, whether from unripeness or blight, or any other 
 cause, it Avill not malt so well ; that is to say, it will 
 not send 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 it, the malt being taxed and the barley 
 not ! Let us hope that this is seldom the case ; yet, 
 when we do know that this terrible system of taxation 
 
II.] BREWING. 23 
 
 induces the beer-selling gentry to supply their custom- 
 ers with stuiF 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 he 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 
 malt, the means of doing which is very easy, and nei- 
 ther expensive nor troublesome, as will appear, when 
 I come to speak o^ 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 loeight is the criterion oi 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 wovih. four shillings, so a bushel 
 of malt weighing forty-five pounds is l^etter 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. 
 
 BREwmG BEER — (coutiuued.) 
 
 38. As to using barley in the making of beer, I hare 
 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. P^O. 
 
 the beer is jiat^ even though you use half malt and 
 half barley ; and flat beer lies heavy on the stomach, 
 and of course, besides the bad taste, is unwholesome. 
 To pay 4s. Qd. tax upon every bushel of our own bar- 
 ley, turned into malt, when the barley itself is not 
 worth 36\ 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 
 estates to favour the slave-drivers and plunderers of 
 the East and West Indies, we must submit to the 
 thing, incomprehensible to foreigners, and even to our- 
 selves, as the submission may be. 
 
 39. With regard to hops^ the quality is very various. 
 At times wlien some sell for 55. a pound, others sell 
 for sixpence. Provided the purchaser understand the 
 article, the quality is, of course, in proportion to the 
 price. There are two things to be considered in hops : 
 the power of preserving heer^ and that of giving it a 
 pleasant flavour. Hops may be strong.^ and yet not 
 good. They should be .bright., have no leaves or bits 
 of branches amongst 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 fir, round a little soft stalk, enveloped by 
 the several folds of this pod, or cone. If, in the gath- 
 ering, leaves 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, form, 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 ;) di qo\o\xx between 
 green and yellow ; a great quantity of the yellow fa- 
 rina ; seeds not too large nor too hard; a clamwy 
 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. 35 
 
 used them at ten years old, and should hare 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 iDater should be soft by all means. That 
 of brooks, or rivers, is best. That of a jjoiid, 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 Jlat 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 tw^o descriptions of persons whom I 
 am desirous to see brewing their own beer ; namely, 
 tradesmen, and labourers and joui'neymen. There 
 must, therefore, be tv/o 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 Ave 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. [No. 
 
 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 dis advantages 
 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 fire 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 malt in, and separate it well. 
 Nevertheless, when it is merely to make small beer; 
 beer 7iot 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 have 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 brow 
 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 
 forti/ gallons, at least ; for, though there be to be but 
 thirty-six gallons of small beer, there must be space 
 for the hops, and for the liquor that goes off in steam. 
 Second, a mashing-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 
 onalt 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 maij 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. 
 
 to begin brewing. I allow two bushels of malt for the 
 brewing I have supposed. You must now put into 
 the mashing-tub as much boiling water as will be suf- 
 ficient to stir the malt in and separate it well. But 
 here occur some of the nicest points of all ; namely, 
 the decree of heat that the w^ater is to.be at, before 
 you put in the malt. This heat is 07ie hundred and 
 seventy degrees by the thermometer. If you have a 
 thermometer, this is ascertained easily; but, without 
 one, take this rule, by which so much good beer has 
 "been made in England for hundreds of years : when 
 you can, by looking down into the tub, see your face 
 clearly in the water, the water is become cool enough ; 
 and you must not put the malt in before. Now put 
 in the malt and stir it well in the water. To perform 
 this stirring, which is very necessary, you have a stick, 
 somewhat bigger than a broom-stick, 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 filled up your copper, and made it boil; and 
 now (at the end of the quarter of an hour) you 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 retain 
 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 sacks, or something 
 that will answer Fhe same purpose ; and there let the 
 mash stand for tico 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 underbuck 
 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 jaised by degrees, and the Avort must be let 
 out slowly, in order to keep back the sediment. So 
 that it is necessary to have something to /ceep 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-tubis 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 m^ashing 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 bo lol-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 y 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 fidl 
 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 tcithout the hops. Therefore, in 
 
 3* 
 
30 BREWING. [No. 
 
 order to get the hops out of the liquor, you must have 
 a strainer. The best for your purpose is a small 
 clothes-basket, or any other wicker-basket. You set 
 your coolers in the most convenient place. It may be 
 m-doors or out of doors, as most convenient. You 
 lay a couple of sticks across one of the coolers, and 
 put the basket upon them. Put your liquor, hops 
 and all, into the basket, whicli will heej) back the hops. 
 When you have got liquor enough in one cooler, you 
 go to another with your sticks and basket, till you have 
 ^ot all your liquor out. If you find your liquor deeper 
 m one cooler than, the other, you can make an altera- 
 tion in that respect, till you have the liquor so distri- 
 buted as to cool equally fast in both, or all, the coolers. 
 48. The next stage of the liquor is in the tun-tub, 
 where it is set to work. Now, a very great point is, 
 the degree of heat that the liquor is to be at Avhen it 
 is set to working. The proper heat is seventy de- 
 grees ; so that a thennometer makes this matter sure. 
 In the country they determine the degree of heat by 
 merely putting a finger into the liquor. Seventy de- 
 grees is but just warm, a gentle hike-warm th. No- 
 thing like heat. A little experience makes perfect- 
 ness in such a matter. When at the proper heat, or 
 nearly, (for the liquor will cool a little in being re- 
 moved,) put it into the tun-tub. And now, before I 
 speak of the act of setting the beer to work, I must 
 describe this tun-tub, which I first mentioned in Para- 
 graph 42. It is to hold thirty gallons, as you have 
 seen ; and nothing is better than an old cask of that 
 size, or somewhat larger, with the head taken out, or 
 cut off. But, indeed, any tub of sufficient dimensions, 
 and of about the same depth proportioned to the 
 width as a cask or barrel has, will do for the purpose. 
 Having put the liquor 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 
 
n.] EREWINO. 81 
 
 with the yeast a handful of wheat or i^e fiour. This 
 mixture is then to be poured out clean into the tun- 
 tub, and the Avhole 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 ^oz^r 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 warmth 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, di 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 sfime way ; and so on till the 
 liquor has cio7ie working, and sends up no more yeast. 
 Then it is beer ; and when it is quite cold (for ale or 
 
32 BREWIN«. [No. 
 
 strong beer) put it into the cask by means of a. fun- 
 nel. 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 were the best casks. I am now convinced 
 that that was an error. The bell-shaped, by con- 
 tracting the width of the top of the beer, as that top 
 descends, in consequence of the draft for use, certainly 
 prevents the head (Avhich always gathers on beer as 
 soon as you begin to draAv 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-casks, 
 to put dam J) 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 he flat ; 
 and when flat, it really is good for nothing but the 
 pigs. It is very difficult to fll the bell-cask, which 
 you will easily see if you consider its shape. It must 
 be placed on the level Avith the greatest possible 
 truth, or there will be a space left ; and to place it 
 with such truth 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 ixiay, 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 loork 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 
 of, 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' 171 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 o^ fresh hops. Fill the cask quite 
 full. Put in the bung, with 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 
 eleaa. Here asrain the round casks have the decided 
 
34 BREWING. INo. 
 
 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 re.mains 
 for me to speak of the small 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; l;he mash- 
 ing-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 otF 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 again, 
 by putting your ale-liquor to cool, as mentioned in 
 Paragraph 47. And you now put thf; small beer wort 
 into the copper, 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 on Jiour. 
 
 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 ihe basket away, throw 
 the hops to the dunghill, and leave the small beer 
 liquid to cool in the mashing-Puh. 
 
 65. 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 w^ill 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, nQW, let us see the 
 expense of these utensils. The copper, new^ 51. ; 
 the mashing-tub, 7iew, 30s. ; the tun-tub, not new, 5s. ; 
 the underbuck and three coolers, not new, 205. 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. 
 fortij years ; and the owner tells me, that, with the 
 same use, they may last {or forty years longer. The 
 machine will not, I think, last four years., if in any 
 thing like regular use. It is of sheet-iron, ti?ined on 
 the inside, and this tin rusts exceedingly, and is not 
 to be kept clean without such rid^hing 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 hrew-hquse. — 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 well as in-doors, v/hich is a very 
 great convenience. 
 
 58. Now with regard to ihe other scale of brewing, 
 little need be said; because, all the principles being 
 the samCj the utensils only are to be proportioned to 
 
36 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 tioice. The two worts are then put to- 
 gether, and then yon boil them together with the hops. 
 
 59. A Correspondent at Morpeth says, the whole of 
 the utensils used by him are a twenty-gallon pot^ a 
 mashing-tub, that also answers for a tun-tub, and a 
 shallow tub for a cooler; and that these are plenty for 
 a person who is any thing of a contriver. This is 
 very true ; and these things Avill cost no more, perhaps, 
 thsin forty shillings. A nine gallon cask of beer can 
 be breAved very well with such utensils. Indeed, it is 
 what used to be done by almost every labouring man 
 in the kingdom, uatil 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 brewing on a small 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 the^r want 
 is the ability to get the wait. Mr. Ellman, in his 
 evidence before the Agricultural Committee, said, 
 that, when he began farming, forty-five years ago, 
 there was not a labourer's family in the parish that 
 did not brew their own beer and enjoy it by their own 
 fire-sides; and that, noio, 7iot ojie single family did it^ 
 
 from, leant of ability to get the malt. It is the tax 
 that prevents their getting the malt; for, the barley is 
 cheap enough. The tax causes a monopoly in the 
 hands of the maltsters, who, when the tax is two and 
 sixpence, make the malt, cost 7s. 6fZ., though the bar- 
 ley cost but 2s. &.d; and though the malt, tax and all, 
 ought to cost him about 5s. 6fZ. If the tax were taken 
 oif, this pernicious monopoly would be destroyed. 
 
 61. The 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.] nREWING. St 
 
 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 S'weet; 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 
 h^ing 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 hreio their oion 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 
 given the detail of above, may be completed in a day; 
 but, by the word day, I naean to include the viorning, 
 beginning at four o'clock. 
 
 4 
 
^ BREWING. [No. 
 
 68. The putting of the beer mto barrel is not more 
 than an hour's work for a servant woman, or a trades- 
 man's or a farmer's 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 be per- 
 formed by the women, who, though so amiable in them- 
 selves, are never quite so amiable as when they are 
 useful; and as to beauty, though men may fall in love 
 with girls at 'play^ there is nothing to make them stand 
 to their love like seeing them at work. In conclusion 
 of these remarks on beer brewing, I once more express 
 my most anxious desire to see abolished for ever the 
 accursed tax on malt^ which, I verily 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,) I 
 spoke of the machine for brewing. The work being 
 stereotyped^ it would have been troublesome to alter 
 those paragraphs ; but, of- course, the public, in read- 
 ing them, will bear in mind what has 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 I 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 my next 
 Number. I cannot, in the mean while, dismiss the 
 subject of breioing beer without once more adverting 
 to its many advantages, as set forth in the foregoing 
 Number of this work. 
 
II.1 BREWING. 39 
 
 71. The following instructions for the making of 
 'porter, will clearly show what sort of stuff is sold at 
 pvblic-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^ye 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, two 
 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 iLsed by 
 'many persons. 
 
 72. This extract is taken from a hook 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 rat-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 huts 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 BREWING. [No. 
 
 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, twenty-five gallons from the 
 bushel. Now the malt is eight shillings a bushel, and 
 eight pounds of the very best /lops will cost but a shil- 
 ling a pound. The malt and hops, then, for the 180 
 gallons, cost but seventy-two shillings ; that is to say, 
 only a little more than fourpe?ice three farthings a 
 gallon, for stuff which is now retailed for sixteen 
 fence a gallon! If this be not an abomination, I 
 should be glad to know what is. Even if the treacle, 
 colour, and the drugs, be included, the cost is not Jive- 
 pence a gallon; and yet, not content with this enor- 
 mous extortion, there a;re 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 law it is 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/ree and fair competi- 
 tion 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. 
 
 75. 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 
 landlord 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 
 tea-messes, he would divide with the farmer, if he had 
 untaxed beer. His wages would /a/Z, and fall to his 
 advantage too. The fall of wages would be not less 
 than 40^. upon a hundred acres. Thus 40/. would go, 
 in the end, a fourth, perhaps to the farmer, and three- 
 ibiuths to the landlord. This is the kind of work to 
 
III.] MAKIXO BREAD. 41 
 
 reduce poor-rates, and to restore Imsbanchy io pros^pe- 
 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 
 fanners 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 tJds 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* 
 
43 MAKING BREAD, [No. 
 
 dence, glad to find, that Mr. Edward Wakefield, 
 the best informed and most candid of all the wit- 
 nesses, gave it as his opinion, that the increase which 
 had taken place in the cultivation of potatoes was 
 ^'' injurious to the country f an opinion which must, I 
 think, be adopted by every one who takes the trouble 
 to reflect a little upon the subject. For leaving out of 
 the question the slovenly and beastly habits engen- 
 dered amongst the labouring classes by constantly lift- 
 ing their principal food at once out of the earth to 
 their mouths, by eating without the necessity of any 
 implements other than the hands and the teeth, and 
 by dispensing with everything requiring skill in the 
 preparation of the food, and requiring cleanliness in 
 Its consumption or preservation ; leaving these out of 
 the question, though they are all matters 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 o{ nourishment^ 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 average fact, and am not at all afraid of 
 being contradicted by any one Avell acquainted with 
 husbandry. The potatoes are supposed to be of a good 
 sort, as it is called, and the wheat may be supposed to 
 weigh 60 pounds a bushel. It is a fact clearly estab- 
 lished, that, after the water, the stringy substance, and 
 the earth, are taken from the potatoe, there remains 
 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 is to say, taking 
 out only the hra7i) 651b. Thus, the acre yields 
 2,0801b. of bread. As to the expenses, the seed and 
 act of planting are about equal in the tAvo cases. But, 
 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 is not worth one single truss 
 
III.] MAKING BREAD. 48 
 
 of that Straw. Then, as to the expense of gathering, 
 housing, and keeping the poiatoe crop, it is enormous, 
 besides the risk of loss by frost, which may be safely 
 taken, on an average, at a tenth 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 thiriy-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 ti7ne ; think of all the peelings and scra- 
 pings and washings and messings attending these 
 nine hundred boilings of the pot ! For it must be a 
 considerable time before English 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 
 lime 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. Vv^hen wheat is ten shillings the bushel, 
 potatoes, bought at best hand, (I am speaking of the 
 country generally,) are about ^7yo 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 
 eighteen-pence ; though, by the wagon-load, I sav/ 
 potatoes bought 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 ?i 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 sixty-five pounds of bread, be- 
 sides the ten pounds of bran. Hence it is clear, 
 that, instead of that saving, which is everlastingly 
 dinned in our ears, from the use of potatoes, there is 
 a waste of more than one half ; seeing that, Vv^ hen 
 wheat is ten shillings (English) the bushel, you can 
 have sixty-five pounds of bread for the ten shillings ; 
 and can have out of potatoes only five pounds and a 
 half of nutritious matter equal to bread for two shil- 
 lings ! (English.) This being the case, I trust that we 
 shall soon hear no more of those savings Avhich 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 obs'ervations 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 you make fine flour, you 
 take out pollard, as they call it, as well as bran, and 
 then you have a smaller quantity of bread and a 
 greater quantity of oifal ; 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 
 wheatj 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. 
 6d. ;* 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 ^d. a pound, 
 while the grinding is 9d. a bushel. Thus, then, the 
 bushel of bread of fifty-nine pounds costs you eig-ht 
 shillings ; and it yields you the weight of thirteen 
 and a half quartern loaves : these quartern loaves 
 oiow (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. l^d. I omitted to mention 
 the salt, which would cost you 4:d. more. So that, 
 here is Gs. 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 would 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 Avheat, 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 5/. 
 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 m 
 English money but may be turned into United States' money as beforo 
 directed, page 16. 
 
48 MAKING BREAD. [No. 
 
 fill, for a labourer's wife to go to the baker's shop; and 
 how negligent, how criminally careless of the wel- 
 fare of his family, must the labourer be, who per- 
 mits so scandalous a use of the proceeds of his 
 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 heating the oven costs very little. 
 The hedgers, the copsers, the woodmen 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 6d. 
 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 quartern 
 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 barley is 
 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 barley, 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 
 wheats 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. 9fZ. at present prices of grain ; that is to 
 say, you would get it for about ^d. the quartern loaf, 
 all expenses included; thus you have nine pounds and 
 ten ounces of bread a day for about 5s. 9cZ. 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. [No. 
 
 more than four children (and if he have more, some 
 ought to be doing something j) 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 6s. a bushel, can possibly have children crying 
 for bread ! 
 
 84. Cry, indeed, they must, if he will persist in 
 giving 13s. for a bushel of bread instead of 55, Qd. 
 Such a man is not to say that the bread which I have 
 described is not good enough. It was good enough for 
 his forefathers, who Avere 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 diflerent 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 needfiil 
 
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 ol" 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 Aveli 
 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 of 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 
 
50 MAKING BREAD. [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 king ; things 
 of their pure creation, a creation, too, in which no one 
 else can 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 
 their 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 flour, yeast, malt, and hops, 
 what is she good for '? If she understand these mat- 
 ters well ; if she be able to supply 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- 
 ficient in these particulars, and can met-ely 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. In 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 
 employer, what is her state in the house of a hus- 
 band? The lover is blind; but the husband has 
 eyes to see with. He soon discovers that there is 
 
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 mate 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 " EvangelicaV 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 j 
 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 prospects of his children 
 through life ; their skill, their ability, their habits of 
 cleanliness, and even their moral deportment;' all 
 combine to press upon him the adoption and the 
 constant practice of this branch of domestic econo- 
 my. " Can she hake?'''' is the question that I always 
 put. If she can, she is loorth a pound or two a year 
 more. Is that nothing ? Is it nothing for a labouring 
 man to make his four or five daughters worth eight 
 or ten pounds a year more; and that too while he is 
 by the samQ 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 endless ; 
 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 OAvn 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 frorq, 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 
 yon ? and is it not better employed for the commu- 
 
III.] MAKING BREAD. 53 
 
 nity ? 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 stale 
 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 be ground at a mill. This 
 expense, in case of a considerable family, living at 
 only a mile from a mill, is sometliing ; but the incon- 
 veniency and uncertainty are great. In my "Year's 
 Residence in America," from Paragraphs 1031 and 
 onwards, I give an account of a horse-mill which I 
 had in my farm yard ; and I showed, I think very 
 clearly, that corn could be ground cheaper in this 
 way than by wind or water, and that it would an- 
 swer well to grind for sale in this way as well as for 
 home use. Since my return to England I have seen 
 a mill, erected in consequence of what the owner had 
 read in my book. This mill belongs to a small far- 
 mer, who, when he cannot work on his land with his 
 horses, or in the season when he has little for them 
 to do, grinds wheat, sells the flour ; and he takes in 
 grists to grind, as other millers do. This mill goes 
 with three small horses ; but what I would recom- 
 mend to gentlemen with considerable families, or to 
 farmers, is a mill such as 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 flour. The grinding of six bushels of wheat 
 at ninepence 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 grind meat for your pigs; and of this 
 you Avill 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 lokeat ; for strange as it 
 may seem, I used sometimes to find that I sent white 
 Essex wheat to the mill, and that it brought me flour 
 from very coarse red wheat. There is no accounting 
 for this, except by supposing that wind and water 
 power has something in it to change the very nature 
 of the grain ; as, when I came to grind by horses, 
 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. 65 
 
 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 lake 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 Jiff]/ 
 times a year to the mill. Think of that, in the first 
 place ! The elements are not always propitious : 
 sometimes the Avater 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 irhperious necessity : neither floods 
 nor droughts, nor storms nor calms, will allay the 
 cravings 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 
 
56 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 rciin to 
 the* mill. 
 
 97. But there is one advantage which I have not 
 yet mentioned, and which is the greatest of all ; 
 namely, that you would have the power of supplying 
 your married labourers ; your blacksmith's men 
 sometimes ; your wheelwright's men at other times ; 
 and, indeed, the greater part of the persons that ycu 
 employed, with good flour, instead of their going to 
 purchase their flour, after it had passed through the 
 hands of a Corn 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. Every Farmer will under- 
 stand me when I say, that he ought to pay for nothing 
 in money, which he can pay for 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 Saturday 
 night which empties their pockets ; and here is the 
 means of cutting off a good half of the Saturday 
 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 have stated 
 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 sa;w 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 reasoris Xor 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 difiner, brought 
 them in the f elds, 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 ho part of any com- 
 munity can have any show of right to reduce another 
 
58 MAKING BREAD. [No. 
 
 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. This has purloined ' the wages of the la- 
 bourer; it has reduced him by degrees to housel with 
 the spider and the bat, and to feed with the pig. It 
 has changed the habits, and, in a great measure, the 
 character of the people. The sins of this system are 
 enormous and undescribabie ; but, thank God ! they 
 seem to be approaching to their end! Money is re- 
 suming its value, labour is recovering its price : let 
 us hope that the wretched potatoe is disappearing, 
 and that we shall,, once more, see the knife in the 
 labourer's hand and the loaf upon his board. 
 
 [This was written in 1831. Now (1823) we have 
 had the experience of 1822, when, for the first time, 
 the world saw a considerable part of a people, 
 plunged into all the horrors oi famine^ at a moment 
 when the government of that nation declared food 
 to be ahundardl Yes, the year 1822 saw Ireland in 
 this state ; saw the people of whole parishes receiv- 
 ing the extreme unction preparatory to yielding up 
 their breath for want of food ; and this while large 
 exports of meat and flour were taking place in that 
 country ! But horrible as this was, disgraceful as it- 
 was to the name of Ireland, it was attended with 
 this good effect : it brought out, from many members 
 of Parliament (in their places,) and from the pablic 
 in general, the acknowledgment, that the misery Oindi 
 degradation of the Irish were chiefly owing to the 
 use of the potatoe as the almost soie food of the 
 people. J 
 
 100. In my next number I shall treat of the keeping" 
 of cows. I have 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, forty 
 rods, of land ; and, in my next, I will make good 
 my promise. 
 
III.] MAKING BREAD. ^^ 
 
 No. IV 
 
 MAKING^ BREAD — (CONTINUED.) 
 
 101. In the last number, at Paragraph "SB, I 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 hatter^ 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 loarm ; 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 doughy 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, yoii scatter the salt over the heap at 
 
60 MAKING BREAD. [No. 
 
 the rate 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 of the business; for, 
 unless the dough be well worked,, there will be little 
 roimd lumps of flour in the loaves ; and, besides, the 
 original batter, which is to give fermentation to the 
 whole, will not be duly mixed. The dough must, 
 therefore, be well worked. The flsts must go hear- 
 tily 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 toug-h 
 dough. This is 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 
 naked feet ! His feet looked very white, 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 warm 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. 
 
 104. 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 ride: that the fuel (I am 
 supposing a brick oven) should be dry (not rotten) 
 wood, and not mere brush-wood, but YRiher fagot- 
 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 that is strong, not green and 
 not too old, if it be hard in its nature and has some 
 sticks m 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 residt 7 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, how 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 v/et and dirty ; the 
 children grimed up to the eyes with dust fixed 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 the 
 labourer's life, deny this ? And will, then, any body, 
 except the old shuffle-breeches band of the Quarterly 
 Review, who have all their lives been moving from 
 garret to garret, who have seldom seen the sun, and 
 never the dew except in print ; will any body except 
 these men say, that the people ought to be taught to 
 use potatoes as a substitute for 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 imable to purchase 
 brewing utensils, have recommeuiled the lending" of 
 them, or letting 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 Lav/s 
 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, 
 whicli 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 7 
 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 IL, 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 Towns, and Market Towtis, where there is a 
 PUBLIC Brewhouse. So that, in the first place, you 
 may let, or lend, in a7iy place where there is tw pt^b- 
 lie h-ewhouse ; and m 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 laios. 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 here. 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. 
 
 110. Another correspondent recommends parishes 
 to make their own malt. But, surely, the landlords 
 mean to get rid of the malt and salt tax ! 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 imkent 'places,'''' making their 
 own malt, even now ! Nothing is so easy as to make 
 your own malt, if you 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, wher^ 
 the root comes out ; and it goes on towards the other 
 end ; and 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 COWS. [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 punishment 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 age bread and milk are all that a child 
 wants. At a later age they furnish one meal a day 
 for children. Milk is, at all seasons, good to drink. 
 In the making of puddings, and in the making of 
 bread too, how useful is it ! Let any one Avho has 
 eaten none but baker's bread for a good while, taste 
 bread home-baked, mixed with milk instead of 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 cow 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 some 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 I was in the 
 fields at work full four years before that. I will here 
 mention that it gave me singular pleasure to see a 
 boy, just turned oi six, helping his father 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 cmX; and, those 
 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- 
 cating the people, and when some w^ould 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 * KEEPING COWS. [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 fit all cases. I content 
 myself, therefore, with what has already been said on 
 
 .this subject; and shall only make an observation on 
 the act of milking, before I come to the chief mat- 
 ter ; namely, the getting of the food, for the cow. A 
 cow should be milked clean. 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 
 twelve times., I think it is, as much butter in it, as the 
 half pint that comes out first. I 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 cause 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. 
 
 116. 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 m.ore 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, unshaded 
 land, besides what his house and sheds stand upon ; 
 and that he have nothing further in the way 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 oil food, except to the blackbirds and thrush- 
 es. The ground is to be dear 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 will 
 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 ma^iure 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 
 
68 KEEPING COWS. [No. 
 
 will grow fast and be straight and strong. I suppose 
 that these beds for plants take 4 rods of your ground. 
 Early in November, or, as the weather may serve, a 
 little earlier or later, lay some manure (of which I 
 shall say more hereafter) betAveen the ridges, in the 
 other 36 rods, and turn the ridges over on this ma- 
 nure, and then transplant your plants on the ridges 
 at 15 inches apart. Here they will stand the Avinter ; 
 and you must see that the slugs do not eat them. If 
 any plants fail, you have plenty in the bed where you 
 prick them out ; for your 36 rods will not require more 
 than 4000 plants. If the winter be very hard, and bady 
 for plants, you cannot cover 36 rods ; but you may 
 the bed 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 preserve them completely. When people com- 
 plain of all their plants being " cut o^j" they have, 
 in fact nothing to cowplain 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 
 from the bed. 
 
 119. If you find the ground dry at the top during 
 the winter, hoe it, and particularly near the plants, 
 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 loAver leaves. As soon 
 as the plants begin to groio, 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 
 ipla7its. 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 icorU .'" 
 Well ! but it is {or 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 cahhages, 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 hears the cabbages ? That we 
 
70 KEEPING COWS. [No. 
 
 are now going to see. When you plant out your cab- 
 bages at the out-set, put first a row of Early Yorks, 
 then 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 cabbages : and, at last, you will find 
 about 16 rods where you will have found it too late, 
 and unnecessary besides, to plant any second cro]) 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 
 average, the fault must be in the seed or in the man- 
 agement. 
 
 125. The Swedish turnips are raised in this man- 
 ner. You Avill bear in mind the fo7ir 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. In a part of these four rods you will, in 
 March and April, as before directed, have sown and 
 raised 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 
 sowed two rods. If the fy appear, cover the rows 
 over in the day-time with cabbage leaves, and take 
 the leaves off at night ; hoe well between the plants ; 
 and when they are safe from the fly, thin them to four 
 inches apart in the row. The two rods will give you 
 nearly Jive 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 5 of the shed for her ; of the 
 managing of tke 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 v/ith 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 m.ore 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 strong and even an offensive 
 
73 KEEPING COWS. [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 water is extremely 
 offensive to the smell. But I state 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 given to a cow. During this last 
 summer, I have, with the exception about to be no- 
 ticed, kept, from the 1st of May to the 22d of October, 
 five cows upon the grass of two acres and a quarter of 
 ground^ the grass being generally cut up for them, 
 and given to them in the stall. I had in the spring 
 5000 cabbage plants, intended for my pigs, eleven in 
 number. But the pigs could not eat hulfiheir allow- 
 ance, though they were not very small when they be- 
 gan upon it. We were compelled to resort to the aid 
 of the cows ; and, in order to see the effect on the milk 
 and butter.^ we did not mix the food ; but gave the 
 cows two distinct spells at the cabbages, each spell 
 about 10 daijs 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. 
 I never had better from cows feeding in the sweetest 
 pasture. Now, as to Swedish turnips., they do give a 
 little 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 sluttishness. 
 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 mor« 
 
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 t went// ions weight; 
 instead of which I have about three! 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 for four years. 
 
 No. V 
 KEEPING cows — (contiuued.) 
 
 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 5 and of the quantity of labour 
 that the cultivation of the land and the harvesting of 
 the crop will require. 
 
 130. Harvesting and preservirig the Siaedes. 
 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 bulbs in the house, or 
 shed. Put the rest into ten-bushel heaps. Make the 
 
74 KEEPING COWS. [•'^^•"5 
 
 heap 2tpo7i the c^roiind 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 turj] about eighteen inches over, and put it 
 upon the crown of the heap to prevent the earth from 
 being washed otf. Thus these heaps will remain till 
 wanted for use. When given to the cow, it Avill be 
 best to loash the Swedes and cut each into two or 
 three pieces 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- of 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 all 
 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 Mangle Wukzle. Be sure to do 
 this. And there read also about Cobbett's Corn. Be sure to do this 
 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 lime is, nine times out of ten, known to within 
 forty-eight hours. Any enclosed field or place will 
 do for 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 " tallef 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 
 betAveen 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 ivet weather she will 
 not yield half so much. It is not so much the cold 
 as the loet 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 long 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 1 have very seldom seen 
 a cottage, with a plat of ground of a quarter of an acre 
 belongmg to it, round about which I could not have 
 collected a very large heap of manure. Every thing of 
 animal or vegetable substance that comes into a house, 
 must go out of it again, 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 
 sun.'''' 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 ybr 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 loater 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 (?nough dung to exchange 
 against this straw. 
 
 133. 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 plantins; and hoeing and harvesting, ail 
 which are a mere trifle. We are supposing the owner 
 10 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 light lon^ before si\v 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 woman, in the village of Hannington, i7i 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 w^hile 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 w^ere neat, clean, and tight 
 about her. She had turned her handkerchief dowm 
 from her neck, which, with the glow that the work 
 had brought into her cheeks, formed an object Avhich 
 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* 
 
78 KEEPING COWS. [NO- 
 
 and if he cannot, without injury to that family, find 
 other time to do it in. Shepherds, carters, pigfeeders, 
 drovers, coachmen, cooks, footmen, printers, and nu- 
 merous others, work on the Sundays. Theirs 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 wnll be equal every week to two 
 days of the 7nan''s 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 1 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, Avhich all country women ought 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 followinj has hapjiened within the last year. A younsf 
 man, in the country, had aoif'eil to be my servant ; but it was found 
 that, he could not milk ; and the barijain was set aside. About a month 
 afterwards a ynuag man, who said he w is a/armer^s son, and who 
 came fnvn Herefordshire, offered himself to meat Kensington. "Can 
 you milk V 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 thsm were m want of employment. The 
 
v.] 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 hahit 
 ot 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 ihe 
 care of my horses, cattle, sheep, or pigs, to any one 
 whose father never had coav or pig of his own. It is 
 a general complaint, that servants, and especially 
 farm-servants, are not so good as they used to he. 
 How should they ? They were formerly the sons 
 and daughters of small farmers ; they are now the 
 progeny of miserable property-less labourers. They 
 have never seen an animal in which they had any 
 interest. They are careless by habit. This mon- 
 strous evil has arisen from causes Avhich 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. 
 
80 KEEPING COWS. [No. 
 
 months old cannot be equal to the half of the value of 
 the two months' milk. It is pure Aveakness to call it 
 " (,'. pYy." 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 suf- 
 ferings of both. 
 
 136. As to the pretended unwholesomeness of milk 
 in certain cases ; as to its not being adapted to some 
 constitutions^ I do not believe one word of the matter. 
 When 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 had a sicn 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 Avill never die with that ravaging disease 
 called '' the distemper.'''' In short, to su])pose that 
 milk contains any thing essentially unwholesome is 
 monstrous. When, indeed, the. appetite becomes 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 wnne, and 
 to swallow "a devil," and a glass of strong grog at 
 night; then milk for breakfast may be '-'■heavy'''' 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 "/ler/y?/," and much less is it uniDhoIesome, 
 when he who uses it rises early, never swallows 
 
v.] KEEPING COWS. 81 
 
 Strong drink, and never stuff's 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 horn-. 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 per sevej-e; and the parent 
 who does not do this, having the means in his hands, 
 shamefully neglects his duty. A son who prefers a 
 " 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 coiv" 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 thousaiid 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 ivhole 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 ^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 of the 
 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 COWS, [No. 
 
 roads, 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 o{' rais- 
 ing- 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 loeight 
 a day; and Avhat 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 they do with 
 the eighty rods of' ground in a private garden ? Why, 
 in the first place, they have one crop where they ought 
 to hav€ 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 ot" 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 
 slavish toil that I am here recommending. 
 
 KEEPING PIGS. 
 
 139. Next after the Cmo 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 o[ 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' more. 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 -d 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 v/ill, indeed, keep herself by grazing in summer, 
 with a little wash to 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 good 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 baie 
 offiesh 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 fat 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 oi grass, and of poor grass, too, 
 or other w^eak 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 loeeks^ and that at a great expense. 
 Then comes the operation, upon the principle of 
 Parson Malihus^ 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 '? 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 
 say, dear even as a gift. To get such a pig to begin 
 to grow will require three wonths, 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 riiilk^ 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, diX four months old, 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. Swedish 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 
 I 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 brcAV 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 good 
 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 Stanhope, who, as I read, 
 have taken great 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 thewastes; 
 and also to give titles to others of the poor parishion- 
 ers, who were v^^illiiig 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 MaltJms, said, that to facilitate their 
 rearing of children loas 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 nou\ perhaps, have occasion to call to mind what 
 I told him on that day, Avhen 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 
 oi freemen living in a state of competence. They 
 have nobody to envy ; nobody to complain of; they 
 are in good humour with mankind. Ii 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; but^ if much longer 
 delayed, I am of 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, he will be 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 
 than a year old, he is the better for it. The flesh is 
 niore solid and more nutritious than that of a young 
 hog, 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 hig-h 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 fit 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 more 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 Christinas, 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 
 scolding'. 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 diiference 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, 
 makas 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 
 mere garbage, there is food, and delicate food too, for 
 a large 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 alfeclion in children for their 
 parents, which, later inlife, 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-bones, thigh-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 any reasonable 
 creature believe, that, to save the soul, God requires 
 us to give up the food necessary to sustain the body ? 
 Did Saint Paul preach this ? He, who, while he 
 
VI.] KEEPING PIGS. 91 
 
 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 Jiitches, 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 
 which 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 dilferent is the taste of fresh, dry salt, 
 from that of salt in a dissolved str:te. 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 loell. As 
 to the time required for making the flitches sufficiently 
 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 di free cir- 
 culation of air : confined SiiT, though cool, will taint 
 meat sooner than the mid-day sun accompanied with 
 a breeze. Ice will not melt in the hottest sun so soon 
 
92 KEEPING PIGS. [No. 
 
 as ill a close and damp cellar. Put a lump of ice in 
 cold water, and one of the same size before ahotjire, 
 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 Avhich costs our men of taste as 
 many scores of pounds. It is very hard to imagine, 
 indeed, what any one should want ice for, 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 he 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 /J:?ry>/-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 m.eM. These precautions taken, the next is, that 
 the smoke must proceed from wood, not turf, peat, or 
 
VI.] KEEPING PIGS. 93 
 
 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 Jire 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 SAveet 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, wLich they sew neatly on. 
 They then icMte-ioash 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 sih 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 tlie 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 the 
 flies, but the air. The place where the chest, or box, 
 is kept, ought to be dry ; and, if the ashes should 
 get damp Tas they are apt to do from the salts they 
 contain,) tney should be put in the fire-place to dry, 
 and then be put back again. Peat-ashes, or turf-ashes, 
 might do very well for 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 hog is altogether a capital 
 thing. The other parts will be meat for about four 
 or five weeks. The lard, nicely put down, will last 
 a long while for all the purposes for 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 farmers 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, now-a-days, the labourers, and espe- 
 cially the female part of them, have fallen into the 
 taste of niceness in food and finery in dress ; a quarter 
 of a bellyful and rags are the consequence. The food 
 of their choice is high-priced, so that, for the greater 
 part O'f 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.] KEEIflNG PIGS. 95 
 
 as pretty as ladies ? 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 
 substantial, 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 taAvdry 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 Avishes 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 si/stem of 
 managing the affairs of the nation. This system 
 has made 3.\\ 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-iiberality, 
 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 Stoddarl'sj peragraphs, 
 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 Avorker 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. 
 
 153. " What," says the cottager, "has ajl 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. 
 
 t Editors of the London Timi^s Nevrspaper, 
 
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 tliousand 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. Meat 
 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 tndy damnable, which teaches that 
 God has made any selection, any condition relaiive to 
 belief, which is to save from punishment those who 
 violate the principles oi 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 which, 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 flang 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 Jif teen score for the cost of the tea, 
 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- 
 e?'." Yes, loiver-priced. But, I will engage that a 
 pound of mine, wnen it comes out of the pot (to say 
 nothing of the taste,) shall w^eigh 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 di family being fed, by daily supplies, has some- 
 thing in it perfectly tormenting. One half of the 
 
 9 
 
98 BEES, FOWLS, &C. &C. [No. 
 
 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 s-pent at tc.ble be- 
 yond what is absolutely necessary, is a moment very 
 shamefully spent; but, to suffer a system oi" domestic 
 economy, which unnecessarily wastes daily an hour 
 or two of the mistress's time in hunting for the pro- 
 vision for the repast, is a shame indeed ; and when 
 we consider how much time is generally spent in this 
 and in equally absurd ways, it is no wonder that we 
 see so little performed by numerous individuals as 
 they do perform during the course of their lives. 
 
 158. Very fat parts of Beef may be salted and smo- 
 ked in a like manner. Not the lean ; for that is a great 
 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, &C. &C. 
 
 159. I NOW proceed to treat of objects of less impor- 
 tance than the foregoing, but still such as may be 
 worthy of great attention. If all of them cannot be 
 expected to come within the scope of a labourer's 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 things, and es- 
 pecially upon all living things ; to know the utility 
 of them : for, without this, they never, when grown 
 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 " the master^s eye makes the horse 
 fat," and the remissness to which ttiis alludes, is gene- 
 rally owing to the servant not having been brought up 
 to feel an interest in the well-being of animals. 
 
VII.] BEES. 99 
 
 BEES. 
 
 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- 
 hMghiedi 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 loholesome, 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 7iew when first put on the hiv^e ; 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 wliich 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 Avater 
 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. 
 
 163. 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 before the next fall ; and though 
 young ones will supply the place of the dead, this is 
 nothing like a good swarm 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-wheat, 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 tioo 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 loill 
 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.J 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. Sup})ose 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. 1[ loell 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 io fat them 
 something more is required. Corn of some sort, or 
 boiled Swedish turnips. Some corn and some raw 
 Swedish turnips, or carrois, 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* 
 
103 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 safe, if at the mercy of 
 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 /mrcZ, 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 England. For three years, 
 including the present year, I have had the finest geese 
 that I ever saw, or ever heard of. I have bought 
 from twenty to thirty every one of these years. I 
 buy them off 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 Avith 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 th-e 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 
 
Vn.] UEESE. 103 
 
 great deal belter 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 Aveek 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. I 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.^^ 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 DUQKS. [No. 
 
 mode of feeding them. The aboye 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. 
 
 169. 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 ovore than 
 a month old. The old duck will lay, in the year, if 
 well kept, ten dozen of eggs ; and 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 thera if they eat a great quantity. 
 Grass, corn, white cabbages, and lettuces, and espe- 
 cially buck- wheal, cut, when half ripe, and flung down 
 in the 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 Island, fatted upon a coarse sort of cra6, 
 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 young, they should never go near ponds, 
 ditches, or streams. When you come to fat ducks, 
 you must take care that they get at noJilth^vhs.tever. 
 They will eat garbage of all sorts ; they will suck 
 down the most nauseous particles of all those sub- 
 
VII.] TURKEYS, 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, cabl>ages, lettuces, and water, and have the place 
 kept very clean. My ducks are, in consequence of 
 this, a great deal more fine and delicate than any 
 others that I know any-thing of. 
 
 TURKEYS. 
 
 171. These are Jiijing- things, and so are common 
 foiols. 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 wo 
 climate ; and so true is this, that, in America, where 
 there is always " a wet spelV 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 xnside fresh 
 every day ; and if this be done, and the young turkeys 
 kept warm, and especially /"rom 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 vi^hat 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 them- 
 selves ramble much when they get old ; and for this 
 reason, Avhen they buy turkeys for stocky in America, 
 (where there are such large woods, and where the 
 distant rambling of turkeys is inconvenient,) they 
 always buy such as have beeri bred under the hens of 
 the common fowl ; than which a more complete proof 
 of the great powers of 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 exceedingly well, too, 
 while she is sitting and after she has hatched ; for 
 though she does not give milk, she gives heat ; 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. 
 
 176. These are kept for two objects ; their Jlesh 
 and their eggs. As to rearing theiii^ every thing said 
 about rearing turkeys is applicable here. They are 
 hesi fatted, too, in the same manner. But, as to lay- 
 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 featliers 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 xnnfrom and 
 not after. All this supposes, however, a proper hen- 
 house^ about which w^e, 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 be 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 the 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 you 
 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 dozen hens to lay in winter, when the 
 
. VII.] FOWLS. 109 
 
 • * "Vfifc is at home the greater part of the time, are worth 
 
 attention. They would require but little room, might 
 be bought in No\'-ember and sold in April, and six of 
 them, with proper care, might be made to clear every 
 Aveek 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 Avetted 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 ; Wt 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 ball 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 
 thfe 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 beefj know the differ- 
 
 • ence between the effect of the srrass m Herefordshire 
 
 10 
 
110 PIGEONS. [No. 
 
 and Lincolnshire, and the efiect 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 pouUards. 
 If 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 their march, and they ought to be 
 taken for that purpose. 
 
 PIGEONS. 
 
 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 tares, peas, or small beans ; and buck- 
 wheat is very good for them. To begin keeping them, 
 they must not have Jlown 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 oftenes-t, and feed their young 
 ones best. Tney begin to breed at about 7iine months 
 old, 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 T -they are an object in delight rMldren. 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 Jlpck, is another matter. And, mind, for the 7nan 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 loild 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 Utters 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 
 
lis _ RABBITS. [Nd. 
 
 the carrot, wild or garden. Parsnips, Swedish turnips, 
 roots of dandelion ; for too much green or watery stuli' 
 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 give them too 
 much green at first when they are weaned, they rot 
 as sheep do. A variety of food is a great thing ; and, 
 surely, the fields 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. I 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 eoppices 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 within a few yards of 
 cart-loads of this pig-meat! This arises from want 
 of the early habit of attention to such matters. I, 
 who used to get hog-weed 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 mast 
 abundantly with all sorts of greens and herbage and 
 with carrots and the other things mentioned before, 
 besides giving her a few oats once a-day. That is the 
 way to have fine healthy young 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 hoys 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 oaL^^ where is 
 
VII.] GOATS ASV EWES. U3 
 
 the boy that cannot, in haiTCst-time, pick up enough 
 along the lanes to serve his rabbits for a year? The 
 care is all ; and the habit of laking 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 alt times; for, if she 
 be poor, the young ones v/iil be good for nothing. 
 She will liveheing poor, but she v/ill 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 sno%v 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 ^qw 
 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 Ax\D EWES. . [No^ 
 
 to goats ; that is. they bark all young trees that they 
 come near ; so that, if they get into a garden^ they 
 destroy every thing. But there are seldom trees on 
 commons, except such as are too large to he injured 
 by goats ; and I can sec no reason against keeping a 
 goat where a cow cannot be kept. Nothmg is so 
 hardy ; nothing is so little nice as to its food. Goats 
 will pick peelings out of the kennel and eat them. 
 They will eat mouldy bread or biscuit ; fusty hay, 
 and almost rotten strav/ ; furze-bushes, heath-thistles ; 
 and, indeed, what will they not eat, Avhen they will 
 make a hearty meal on paper, brown or white, printed 
 on or not printed on, and giA'-e milk all the while ! 
 They will lie in any dog-hole. TJiey do very well 
 clogged, or stumped out. And, then, they are very 
 JieoWiy things into the bargain, however closely they 
 may be confined. When sea voyages are so stormy 
 as to kill geese, ducks, foAvls, and almpst 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 brass. 
 
 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-giving way upon a common ; 
 and, as to feeding' ihem, provision must be made pret- 
 ty nearly as for a cow. They will not endure con- 
 
 finement like goats; and they arc subject to nurne- 
 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 Avill 
 Continue to breed and to give milk in abundance for a 
 great many years. The sheep i^frigldened 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 
 
VII. J CANDLES AND RUSHES. 115 
 
 be glad to see the thing tried. They ai-e 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 1 do not find that I see less 
 clearly than other people. Candles certainly Avere 
 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 5 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 of 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 
 touch light as he pleases, and though, without them 
 he must sit the far greater part of the winter evenings 
 in the dark, even if he expend^/ee?i shillings a year 
 in candles. You may do any sort of work by this 
 light; and, if reading be your taste, you may read the 
 foul libels, the lies and abuse, which are circulated 
 gratis about me by the " Society for promoting 
 Christian Knoicledge^'''' as well by rush-light, as you 
 can by the light of taxed candles ; and, at any rate, 
 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. 
 
 r.lUSTARD. 
 
 198. Why hty this, when you can grow it in your 
 garden? The stuff you buy is half drugs, and is 
 injurious to health. A yard sqimre 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 hrown 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 Avill never use the drugs 
 again. The drugs, if you take them freely, leave a 
 burning ai the pit of your stomachy 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, forjine and Jiiinsy 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 beL'ies and warm 
 backs to the labouring classes. 
 
 200. In household goods^ the warrn^ 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 greatgrandfather 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 peioter, 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 he 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. [No. 
 
 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 " content." 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. 
 
 201. Fuel should be, if possible, provided in sum- 
 mer, or at least some of it. Turf and peat must 
 be got in summer, and. some luood may. In the 
 woodland countries, the next winter ought to be 
 thought of in June, when people hardly know what 
 to do with the fuehvood ; and something should, if 
 possible, be saved in the bark-harvest to get a part of 
 the fuel for 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 each other, to say nothing of colds and 
 other ailments which are the natural consequence of 
 such misery. If we suppose the great Creator to 
 condescend to survey his works in detail, what object 
 can be so pleasing to him as that of the labourer, after 
 his return from the toils of a cold winter day, sitting 
 with his wife and children round a cheerful fire, while 
 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 ? 
 
 HOPS, 
 
 202. I TREATED 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 tax on the Hops. 
 
VIL] YEAST. 119 
 
 The positive tax is 2d. a pound, and I (in former 
 editions) stated it at M. 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 ^\d. a 
 pound. 
 
 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-cokes. A 
 parcel of these cakes i's made 07ice 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 fi-esh 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 th'e.time. Let them boil half an hour. 
 Then strain the liqubr 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, v/hen 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, ciit it up into cakes with a tum- 
 bler glass turned upside down, or with something 
 else that Avill 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 ihem in 
 a place perfectly free from damp. When you bake, 
 take two cakes, of the thickness above-mentioned, 
 and about 3 inches in diameter; put them into hot 
 water, over-nighty having cracked them first. Let 
 the vessel containing them stand near tlie fire-place 
 all niglit. They will dissolve by the morning, and 
 then you use them 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 
 tve to get the Indian Meal?- Indian Meal is used 
 merely 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 Second, to dry the cakes, 
 to make them (and quickly too, mind) as hard as ship 
 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 he fire,) 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 often, we have 
 in June, in July, or in August, s. fortnight cf hot smi, 
 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 farmer's wife, qr any go6d 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 SE£d. 
 
 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 t.o 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 may be best; but, in any of 
 these southern counties, any time after the middle of 
 April and before the lOtJi 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 Avith 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 thinned, hoe well 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^ve 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 I like; and the very finest I 
 ever grew in England, and the finest I ever saw for 
 a large 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 
 Residence in America.^^ 
 
 No. VIII. 
 
 On the converting of English Grass, and Grain 
 Plants cut green, into Straw, for the purpose of 
 making Plat for Ilats and Bonnets. 
 
 Kensington, May 30, 1823. 
 
 208. The foregoing Numbers have treated, chiefly, 
 of the management of the affairs 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 along I 
 have proceeded upon the supposition, that the wife 
 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 enter at once upon that employment. 
 
 209. Before I proceed to give my directions rela- 
 tive to the performance of this sort of labour, I shall 
 ^ive 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; 
 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 small whole 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 
 
124 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No. 
 
 now began to be imported, and to be platted in this coun- 
 try. So that we had hands to plat as well as the 
 Italians. All that we wanted was the same kind of 
 Straus that the Italians had : and it is truly wonder- 
 ful that these importations from Leghorn should have 
 gone on increasing year after year, and our domestic 
 manufacture dwindling away at a like pace, without 
 there having been any inquiry relative to the way 
 in which the Italians got their straw ! Strange, that 
 we should have imported even straw from Italy, with- 
 out inquiring whether similar straw could not be got 
 in England ! There really seems to have been an 
 opinion, that England could no more produce this 
 straw than it could produce the sugar-cane. 
 
 213. Things were in this state, when in 1821, .a 
 Miss WooDHousE, a farmer's daughter in Connecti- 
 cut, sent a straw-bonnet of her own making to the 
 Society of Arts in London. This bonnet, superior in 
 fineness and beauty to anything of the kind that had 
 come from Leghorn, the maker stated to consist of a 
 sort of grass of which she sent along with the. bonnet 
 some of the seeds. The question was, then, would 
 these precious seeds groui and jwoduce plants in per- 
 fection in England ? A large quantity of the seed 
 
 had not been sent : and it was therefore, by a mem- 
 ber of the Society, thought desirable to get, w^ith as 
 little delay as possible, a considerable quantity of the 
 seed. 
 
 214. It was in this stage of the affair that my attention 
 was called to it. The member just alluded to applied 
 to me to get the seed from America, I was of opinion 
 that there could be no sort of grass in Connecticut 
 that would not, and that did, not, grow and flourish in 
 England. My son James, who was then at New- 
 York, had instructions from me, in .Tune 1821, to go 
 to Miss WooDHousE, and to send me home an account 
 of the matter. In Se])tember, the same year, I heard 
 from him, who sent me an account of the cutting and 
 bleaching, and also a specimen of the plat and grass 
 of Connecticut. Miss Woodhouse 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 Ave 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 
 iwporter 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 ; buthaving seen the 
 bonnet of Miss Woodhouse, he wks anxious to get 
 the American straw. This gentleman showed me 
 some Italian straw whicii he had imported, and as 
 the seed heads were on, I could not see what plant it 
 was. The gentleman who showed the straAv 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 were 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 Avay 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 PLAT. [No. 
 
 next month of Jime came, I went into the countiy 
 for the purpose. I made my experiments, and, in 
 short, I prov^ed to demonstration, that we had not 
 only the plants^ but the s^m also, necessary for the 
 making of straw, yielding in no respect to that of 
 America or of Italy. I think that, upon the whole, 
 we have greatly the advantage of those countries j 
 for grass is more ahuudant in this country than in 
 any other. It flourishes here more than in any oth- 
 er country. It is here in a greater variety of sorts ; 
 and {ox fineness in point of size, there is no part of 
 the world which can equal what might be obtained 
 from some of our clowns^ merely by keeping the land 
 ungrazed till the month of July. 
 
 218. When I had obtained the straw, I got some of 
 it made into plat. One piece of this plat was equal 
 in point of colour, and superior in point of fineness, 
 even to tiie plat of the bonnet of Miss Woodhouse. 
 It seemed, therefore, now to be necessary to do no- 
 thing more than to make all this ^cell known to the 
 country. As the Society of Arts had interested it^ 
 self in the matter, and as 1 heard that, through its 
 laudable zeal, several sowings of the foreign grass- 
 seed had been made in England, I communicated an 
 account of my experiments to that Society. The 
 first communication was made by me on the 19th of 
 February last, when I sent to the Society, specimens 
 of my straw and 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 gone to work. 
 
 219. The committee had, before this, given some- 
 of my straw to certain momifacturers of plat, in order 
 to see what it would produce. These manufacturers, 
 with the exception of one, brought snch specimens of 
 plat as to induce, at first sight, any one to believe 
 that it was nonsense to think of bringing the thing 
 to any degree of perfection ! But, was it possible to 
 believe this? VVas it possible to believe that it 
 could answer to import straw from Italy, to pay a 
 twenty per cent, duty on that straw, and 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 L'eghorn 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 
 day s,Jif teen 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 parcelsof 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 ivheat 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 gra'ss, from Avhich 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 f nest 
 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. [No. 
 
 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 iO 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 brittle. I beg you to look at 
 Nos. 10 and 5. Those appear to me to be the thing 
 to supplant the Leghorn. The colour is good, the 
 straws iDork welt, they afford a great variety of sizes^ 
 and they come from the common Bennet grass, 
 which grows all over the kingdom, which is culti- 
 vated in all our fields, Avliich is in bloom in the fair 
 month of June, which may be grown as fine or as 
 coarse as we please, and ten acres of Avhich would, 
 I dare say, make ten thousand bonnets. However, 7 
 and 15, and 8 and 13, are very good; and they are to 
 be got in every part of the kingdom. 
 
 As to platters, it is to be too childish to believe that 
 they are not to be got, when I could send off these 
 straws, and get back the plat, in the course of five 
 days. Far better work than this would have been 
 obtained if I could have gone on the errand myself. 
 What then will people not do, who regularly under- 
 take the business for their livelihood? 
 
 1 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- 
 cations of mine to the Society, belong, in fact, to it, 
 and will be published in its Proceedings, 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 srrass would grow 
 
130 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No. 
 
 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 
 being his opinion that, if materials similar to those 
 used by Miss Woodhouse could by any means be 
 grown in England^ the benefit to the nation must 
 be considerable. 
 
 D. — In consequence of this application, I wrote to 
 my son James, (then at New York,) directing him to 
 do what he was able in order to cause success to the 
 undertaking. On the receipt of my letter, in July, 
 he went from New York to Weathersfield, (about a 
 hundred and twenty miles ;) saw Miss Woodhouse; 
 made the necessary inquiries; obtained a specimen 
 of the grass, and also of the plat, which other per- 
 sons at Weatherstield, as well as Miss Woodhouse, 
 were in the habit of making ; and having acquired 
 the necessary information as to cutting the grass 
 and bleaching the straw, he transmitted to me an 
 account of the matter ; which account, together with 
 his specimens of grass and plat, I received in the 
 month of September. 
 
 E. — I was now, when I came to see the specimen 
 of grass, convinced that Miss Woodhouse's mate- 
 rials could be grown in England; a conviction 
 which, if it had not been complete at once, would 
 have been made complete immediately afterwards by 
 the sight of a bunch of bonnet-straAV imported from, 
 Leghorn^ 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 groicn in 
 England was, therefore, now certain, and indeed 
 that they Avere, 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. l3l 
 
 which and that of Italy or Connecticut was well 
 known to be 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 ot 
 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, £Pll 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 t-o 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 verij th inly; 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 grass 
 was, as it happened, cut on the longest day in the 
 year; and the weather was remarkably fine and 
 clear. But the grass which I afterwards cut in Sus- 
 sex, was cut in the first week in August; and as to 
 the weather my journal speaks thus: — 
 August, 1822. - 
 
 2d.— Thunder and lain.— Began cutting grass. 
 
 3d. — Beautiful day. 
 
 4th.— Fine day. 
 
 5th.-»-Cloudy day. — Began scalding grass, and laying it out. 
 
 6th. — Cloudy greater part of the day. 
 
 7th. — Same weather. 
 
 8th.— Cloudy and rather misty. — Finished cutting grass. 
 
 9th. — Dry Init cloudy. 
 
 10th. — Very close and hot; — Packed up part of the grass._ 
 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th. — f^ame weather. 
 ISth. — Hot and clea-V.—zFinished packing the grass. 
 
 K. — The grass cut in Sussex was as loell bleached 
 as that cut in Hertfordshire; so that it is evident that 
 we never can have a summer that will not aiford sun 
 sufficient for this business. 
 
 L. — The part of the straw used for platting is that 
 part of the stalk which is above the upper joint ;tha.t 
 part which is between the upper joint and the seed- 
 branches. This part is taken out, and the rest of 
 the straw thrown away. But the u-Jiole plant must 
 be cut and bleached; because^ if you were to take 
 off, when green, the part above described, that part 
 would wither up next to nothing. This part must 
 die in company Avith the whole plants, and be sepa- 
 rated from the other parts after the bleaching has 
 been performed. 
 
 M. — The time of cutting must vary with the sea- 
 sons, the situation, and the sort of grass. The grass 
 which I got in Hertfordshire, than which nothing 
 can, I think, be more beautiful, was, when cut, ge- 
 nerally in bloom; just in bloom. The wheat was in 
 full bloom ; so that a good time for getting grass may 
 be considered to be that when the wheat is in bloom. 
 When I cut the grass in Sussex, the wheat was ripe, 
 for reaping had begun ; but that grass is of a very 
 
VIII.] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 13S 
 
 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 6/we, 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 
 Avhich 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 gras^. 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 
 by me. I will here, for fear of mistake, give a list of 
 the names of the several sorts of grass, the straw of 
 which 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. 
 
 ^ Melica Casrulea ; or, Purple Melica 
 I Grass. 
 
 ^ AgrostisStolonifera; or, Fiorin Grass; 
 ( that is to say, one sort of Couch-grass. 
 
 . Lolium Perenne ; or, Ray-greiss. 
 ^ Avena Flavescens ; or. Yellow Oat 
 ( grass. 
 
 S CyiiosurusCristatus;or, Crested Dog'a- 
 \ tail grass. 
 
 \ Anthoxanthum Odoratum ; or, Sweet 
 ( scented Vernal grass. 
 S Agrostis Canina ; or. Brown Bent 
 I grass. 
 
 ire those given at the Botanical 
 But the same English names are 
 12 
 
 PIECES 
 OF PLAT. 
 
 NoL— 
 
 BUNCHES 
 OF STRAW. 
 
 . No. 1. . . 
 
 l\ 
 
 . . 2 and 3 . . 
 
 12. < 
 
 . . 4 and 12 . . 
 
 5.) 
 10.^ 
 
 . . 5 and 10 . . 
 
 6. > 
 11. C 
 
 . . 6 and 11 . . 
 
 7.) 
 15. ( 
 
 . . 7 and 15 . . 
 
 8. > 
 13. < 
 
 . . 8 and 13 . . 
 
 9.; 
 14.^ 
 
 . . 9 and 14 . 
 
 O. — These names 
 Garden at Kew. Bu 
 
134 ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. [No. 
 
 not in t?ie country given to these sorts of grass. The 
 Fiorin grass^ the Yelloio Oat-grass^ and the Brown- 
 Bent, are all called couch-grass; except that the latter 
 is, in Sussex, called Red Rohin. It is the native grass 
 of the plains of Long Island ; and they call it Red 
 Top. The Ray-grass is 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 Bertnett^ grass; and sometimes it is called Darnel' 
 grass. The Crested Dog^s-tail goes, in Sussex, by 
 the name of Ilendonbent ; 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 was 
 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 
 grass grew in 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 efiect of the scalding., 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 bleachi];g; having given you the best ac- 
 count I am able, as to the sorts of grass to be em- 
 ployed in this briiness; and having, in my former 
 communications, given you specimens 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 o^ 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 fourpance 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 siveet matter o^ 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 itself, 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. 
 
13(5 ENGLISH 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 aris^ 
 out of these inquiries. The manufacture is alone 
 of considerable magnitude. Not less than ahout Jive 
 millions of persons in this kingdom have a dress 
 which consists partly of manufactured straw; and a 
 large 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 
 expense than you can get it at Jiome, 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 ctoth 
 from Yorkshire. Stop the exchange 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 Leghorners 
 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 rags, 
 will be well clad, if the laudable object of the Society 
 be effected. Besides this. 
 
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 tJce manufacturers 
 together in great numbers^ I should, however great 
 the wealth that it might promise, never have done 
 any tiling to promote its establishment. The contra- 
 ry is happily the case : here all is not only performed 
 by ho nfbiit by hand singlt/, 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 everv 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 gi^''e her and her children work for a part of 
 the winter? There is no necessity for all to be platters. 
 Some may cut and 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. [NO- 
 
 and bleachers and preparers would do the same. 
 So that there is scarcely any country labourer's fami- 
 ly that might not derive some advanta. <2 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 Avith, 
 
 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, Avas not presented to 
 the public as a thing which 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 I by no means send forth 
 this essay as containing opinions and instructions 
 that are to undergo no alteration. I am, indeed, en- 
 deavouring to teach 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 Avas men- 
 tioned as a strong suspicion in my former edition of 
 this work. And I urged my readers to soav wheat for 
 the purpose. The fact is now proved beyond all con- 
 tradiction, that the straAV of Avheat or rye, but particu- 
 larly of wheat, is the straw for this purpose. Finer 
 plat may be made from the straw of grass than can 
 possibly be made from the straw of wheat or rye : 
 but the grass plat is, all of it, more or less brittle; 
 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 frotii Tus- 
 
VIIL] ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 139 
 
 cany, all oi wheat ; and, indeed, lam convinced that 
 no othflr 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 loheat to be sowed for this purpose ; 
 on the season for sowing; on the land to be used for 
 the purpose ; on the quaniity 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 
 tESTIVUM. 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, when the crop is taken off, the 
 wheat straw mav not be mixed with weeds and grass. 
 
 226. SEASON FOR SOWING. This will be 
 more conveniently stated in paragraph 228. 
 
 227. aUANTITY OF SEED AND MANNER 
 OF SOWING. When first this subject was started 
 in 1821, I said, in the Register, that I would engage 
 to grow as fine straw in England as the Ila ians could 
 grow. I recommended tben, 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, I am told, 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 soav 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 very nice covering. 
 
 228. SEASON FOR CUTTING. Now, mind, 
 it is fit to cut in just about one week after the bloom 
 has dropped. If 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 
 straw has then got its full substance in it. But I must 
 now point out a very material thing. It is by no 
 means desirable to have all your wheatfit to cut at 
 the same time. It is a great misfortune, indeed, so to 
 have it. If fit to cut altogetlier, it ought to be cut all 
 at the same time ; 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 pm-pose, and were to sow all spring wheat, I 
 
VIII j ENGLISH STRAW PLAT. 141 
 
 would SOW 'i 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 of wheat, or 
 indeed if I employed only the spring wheat, the 
 Triticdm ^stivum, 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 w^ater 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, and 
 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 straAV 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 im* SUE 'je clear, it will require to lie twenty-four 
 hours .hrs, then to be turned, and lie twenty-four 
 ho'vrs on 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 sliould 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 chansred. 
 
 231. HOUSING THE STRAW. When your 
 straw is nicely bleached, gather it up, and with the 
 same string that you used to tie it when green, tie it 
 up again into little sheaves. Put it by in some room 
 where there is no clamps and where mice and rats are 
 not suffered to inhabit. Here it is always ready for use, 
 and it will keep, I dare sav, four or five years very well. 
 
 232. THE PLATTING. 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 land-owners, by parish 
 officers, by farmers, and more especially by gentlemen 
 and ladies of sense, public spirit, and benevolence of 
 disposition. The thing will be done; the manufac- 
 ture will spread itself all over this kingdom ; but the 
 exertions of those whom I have here pointed out might 
 hasten the period of its being brought to perfection. 
 And I beg such gentlemen and ladies to reflect on the 
 vast importance of such manufacture, which it is im- 
 possible to cause to produce any-thihg but good. One 
 of the great misfortunes of England at this day is, 
 that the land has had taken away from it those ewploy- 
 vients for its women and children which were so ne- 
 cessary to the icell-being' of the agricidtural labourer. 
 The spinning, the carding, the reeling, the knitting ; 
 these have been all taken away from the land, and 
 given to the Lords of the Loom, the haughty lords of 
 
VIIL] 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 chiklren, 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, puifed-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 wants no 
 combination law^s ; 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 ^yi^i 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. \_No. 
 
 time : and here I conclude my observations upon a sul- 
 ject which is deeply interesting to myself, and which 
 the public in general deem to be of great importance. 
 235. POSTSCRIPT on brewinff.—l 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 by 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 wants 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. 
 
 230. First begging the reader to read again para- 
 graph l-r9, 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 i^rouitd^ 
 and always, if possible, under the shade of trees, the 
 opinion being, that the main thingj if not the oniij 
 thing, is to keep away the heat. The heat is to be kept 
 away certainly ; but viukture is the great enemy cf 
 
VIII.] 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 efiectually 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 runuing aivay 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 fluite 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 
 r>o such spot, it is no very great job to mctke 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 iL'ood 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 ; and it can, at the same time, be placed on a 
 roof, and on sides, to such a degree of thickness as 
 to exclude the air in a manner the most perfect. The 
 ice-house ought, therefore, to be made ofjjosts, plates^ 
 rafters, laths, ayid straw. The best form is the cir- 
 cular ; and the house, when made, appears as I have 
 endeavoured to describe it in Fig. 3 of the plate. 
 
 241. 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 above 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 
 Tierfectly 'perpendicular ; for, if it be not, the whole 
 building will be awry. 
 
 242. hhh are fifteen posts, nine feet high, and six 
 inches through at the bottom, without much tapering 
 towards the top. These posts stand about two feet 
 apart, reckoning from centre of post to centre of post, 
 which leaves between each two a ^pace of eighteen 
 inches, c ccc are fifty-four posts, five feet high, and 
 five inches through at the bottom, without much 
 tapering towards the top. These posts stand about 
 two feet apart, from centre of post to centre of post, 
 which leaves between each two a space of nineteen 
 inches. The space between these two rows of posts 
 is four feet in width, and, as' will be presently seen, 
 is to contain a wall of straw. 
 
 243. e is a passage through this wall ; d is the out- 
 side door of the passage ; / 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 uip ; 
 and, before we talk of the roof of the house, or of the 
 bed for the ice, it Avill be best to speak about the mak- 
 ing of the icall. It is to be made of straw, wheat- 
 stjaw, or rye-straw, with no rubbish in it, and made 
 very smooth by the hand as it is put in. You lay it 
 in very closely and \'ery 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 down-through the 
 middle^ omitting ttie 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 the straw from hulgi7ig out between the 
 posts. Little stakes as big as your wns^ 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 07i upon the tops of 
 the posts. Their main business is to receive and sus- 
 tain the lower ends of the rafters, 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, oh 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 *?, 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 knov/ 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 mj 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, b b 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 thatcher tie theslrcLW onicell. The 
 best way, in a case of such deep thatch, is to have a 
 strong man to tie for the thatcher. 
 
VIIL] 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, fouryee^ thick, as at h h in Fig. 2. 
 
 247. The house having now got 20cdls and roof, the 
 next thing isto'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 roimd 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 alDOut 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 thiTteen. 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 passasre is 
 this : that you may have two doors, so that you riiay, 
 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 icool 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* 
 
150 ICE-HOUSES. [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 
 wiox (Fig. 2) twenty-nine feet; from y io z (Fio. 
 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- 
 veuty-jive cubic feet of ice; and, observe, a cubic foot 
 of ice will, when broken up, fill much more than a 
 Winchester Bushel : Avhat 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 "co/fZ fit," as Dr. 
 Baring calls it, into which '"'- late panic" has brought 
 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 tree-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 ; and, 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 purjjose. 
 How often the bottom of the straw 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 case, mean, toilh 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 g-ittter, 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 ah ice-house j 
 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. I4th, 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 
 
152 MANGEL WURZEL. 
 
 time of transplanting, the distances, and the cultiva- 
 tion, all being the 'same ; and the only difference being 
 in the application of the leaves, and in the time of 
 harvesting the roots. 
 
 255. The leaves of the Mangel Wurzel are of 
 great value, especially in dry summers. You begin, 
 about the third week in August, to take off by a down- 
 ward pull, the leaves of the plants ; and they are ex- 
 cellent food for pigs and cows; only observe this, that, 
 if given to cows, there must be, for each cow, six 
 'pounds of hay a day, which is not necessary in the 
 case of the Swedish turnips. These leaves last till 
 the crop is taken up, which ought to be in the first week 
 of November. The taking off of the leaves does good 
 to the plants : new leaves succeed higher up ; and the 
 plant becomes longer than it otherwise would be, and, 
 of course, heavier. But, in taking off the leaves, you 
 must not approach too near to the top. 
 
 256. When you take the plants up in November, you 
 must cut off the croions and the remaining leaves ; and 
 they, again, are for cows and pigs. Then you put 
 the roots into some place to keep them from the frost; 
 and, if you have no place under cover, put them in 
 pies, in the same manner as directed for the Swedish 
 turnips. The roots will average in weight 10 lbs. each. 
 They may be given to cows ichole, or to pigs either, 
 and they are better than the Swedish turnip for both 
 animals ; and they do not give any bad or strong taste 
 to the milk and butter. But, besides this use of the 
 mangel wurzel, there is another, with regard to pigs 
 at least, of very great importance. The juice of this 
 plant has so much of sweetness in it, that, in France, 
 they make sugar of it ; and have used the sugar, and 
 found it equal in goodness to West India sugar. 
 Many persons in England make beer of this juice, and 
 I have drunk of this beer, and found it very good. 
 In short, the juice is most excellent for the mixing 
 of moist food for pigs. I am now (20th Nov. 1831) 
 boiling it for this purpose. My copper holds seven 
 strike-bushels ; 1 put in three bushels of 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-hog-s with ; and this I shall follow on till about 
 the middle of May. 
 
 257. If you give boiled, or steamed, potatoes to pigs, 
 there Avants some liquor to mix with the potatoes ; for 
 the Avater in which potatoes have been boiled is hurt- 
 ful to any animal that drinks it. But mix the potatoes 
 with juice of mangel Avurzel, 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 ari..£ 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 this 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-faiting in the whole Avorld. 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, Avhich I shall repeat here. 
 
 259. I Avill 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 ihe disciples ate as they were going 
 up to Jerusalem on the Sabbath-day. They gathered 
 it in the fields as they went along and ate it green, 
 they being " an hungered," for which you knoAv 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 ^at a pig of ten score. 
 
 260. There are a great many sorts of this corn. 
 Thev 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 have 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 1829 ; 
 and last year (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- 
 ther; and no one i'V; cold as the last. Yet my corn 
 ripened 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 are fixed round a stalk which is called the coh. 
 These stalks or ears come out of the side of the plant, 
 which has leaves like a fiag, which plant grows to 
 about three feet high, and has two or three and some- 
 times more, of these ears or bunches of grain. Out of 
 the top of the plant comes ihe tassel, which resem- 
 bles the plumes of feathers upon a hearse ; and this 
 is the flower of the plant. 
 
 261. 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 pigs, 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 ways, it is used in bread, in puddings, in several 
 other ways in families; and that, in short, it is the 
 real stafl of life, 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 noAV,) 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 bottoni 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 
 
150 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. 
 Doing 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 high; 
 for the spear is so sweet, that the birds of all sorts are 
 very apt to peck ii 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 w^ork 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 be full of milk, just in the state that the ears were 
 at Jerusalem when the disciples cropped them to cat. 
 From this milky state, they, like the grains of wheat, 
 grow hard ; and as soon as the grains begin to be 
 hard, you should cut off ihe 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 
 not 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 manner 
 with a husk. The best way for you will be, when 
 you gather in your crop to strip oH" the husks, to tie 
 the ears in bunches of six or eight or ten, and to 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 Avrite 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 neces€ary 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 Avill 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 1 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 shoAV 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 eakly 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 have two very large crops on the same ground 
 in the same year. 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PARAGRAPH 
 
 Agur 18 
 
 Bees - - 160 
 
 Bread, making of - - - - 77 
 
 Brewing Beer - - - - 20, 108 
 See also "Postscript." 
 
 Brewing-machine .... ^i 
 
 Brougham, Mr. .... 41 
 
 Candles and Rushes - . - 199 
 Castlereagh's and Mackintosh's 
 
 Oratory 152 
 
 Combination Laws - - - 108 
 
 Corn, Cobbett -' 258 
 
 Cows, keeping Ill 
 
 Cusar, Mr. - ' 86 
 
 Custom Laws 108 
 
 Drennen, Dr. ' 80 
 
 Dress, Household Goods, 
 
 and Fuel 199 
 
 Ducks 169 
 
 Economy, meaning of the term 2, 3 
 
 Education 11 
 
 EUman, Mr. 20, 60 
 
 Excise Laws 108 
 
 Fowls - 176 
 
 Geese 167 
 
 Goats and Ewes 189 
 
 Hanning, Mr. Wm. - . - 99 
 
 Hill, Mr. 98 
 
 Hops 202 
 
 PARAGRAPH 
 
 Ice-housea 236 
 
 Leghorn 212 
 
 Libel Laws 108 
 
 Malthus, Parson ... - 141 
 
 Mangel Wurzel 254 
 
 Mustard -...:.. 198 
 
 Parks, Mr. 98 
 
 Paul, Saint 148 
 
 Peel's flimsy Dresses - - - 152 
 
 Pigeons 181 
 
 Pig's, keeping 139 
 
 Pitt's false Money .... 152 
 Plat, English Straw - - -•208 
 
 Porter, how to make ... 71 
 
 Potatoes 77 
 
 Rabbits 184 
 
 Salting Mutton and Beef - - 157 
 
 Stanhope, Lord 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 
 
 Wilberforce's Potatoe-Diet - 152 
 
 Winchelsea, 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. 
 
 TO THE 
 
 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 comm^on 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* 
 
i cobbett's [No. 
 
 that they 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, at Man- 
 chester, on the 17th of August, Mr. Baxter, the 
 Chairman, said, thai some of the POOR had been 
 starved to death, and that tens of thousands were 
 upon the point of starving ; and, at the same meet- 
 ing, Mr. Potter gave a detail, which showed that 
 Mr. Baxter's general description was true. Other 
 accounts, very nearly official, and, at any rate, being 
 of unquestionable authenticity, concur so fully with 
 the statements made at the Manchester Meeting, that 
 it is impossible not to believe, that a great number of 
 thousands of persons are now on the point of perish- 
 ing for want of food, and that many have actually 
 'perished from 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 facts themselves, and even more horrid 
 than those facts, is the cool and unresentful language 
 and manner in which' the facts are usually spoken of. 
 Those who write about the misery and starvation in 
 Lancashire and Yorkshire, never appear to think 
 that any body is to blame, even when the poor die 
 with hunger. The Ministers ascribe the calamity to 
 " 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 1 It is very true, that the enormous t;ixes 
 which we pay on account of loans made to carry on. 
 the late unjust wars, on account of a great standing 
 army in time of peace, on account of pensions, sine- 
 cures and grants, and on account of a Churchy 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 ruin 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 sutler from want of food and rai- 
 ment. It has placed oncers in every parish to see 
 that no person suffer from this sort of want ; and lest 
 these officers should not do their duty, it commands 
 all the magistrates to hear the complaints of *he poor, 
 and 10 compel the officers to do their duty. The LAW 
 OF ENGLAND has provided ample means of relief 
 for the poorj 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 lias armed them with pov/ers 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 ot 
 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 ijoods, 
 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 suffi^r from hunger or cold, I command 
 you to be ready to hear the complaint of every suiferer 
 from such neglect ; I command you to summon the of- 
 fending overseer, and to compel him to do his duty." 
 
G cobbett's [No. 
 
 4. Such being the language of the LAW, is it not 
 a monstrous stale of things, when we hear it com- 
 monly and coolly stated, that many thousands of per- 
 sons in England are upon the point of starvation; 
 that thousands will die of hunger and cold 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 peace ! Is not this state of things perfectly 
 monstrous ? A state of things in which it appears to 
 be taken for 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 part of the law '? If the law which pro- 
 vides for the succour of the poor, for the preservation 
 of their lives, may be, with impunity, set at defiance, 
 why sheuld 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- 
 cashire, we're to read, in an account of a meeting in 
 Hampshire, that, here, the farmers and gentlemen 
 were constantly and openly robbed ; that the poor 
 were daily breaking into their houses, and knocking 
 their brains out ; and that it was expected that great 
 part of them would be killed very soon : if you, in 
 Lancashire were 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 that 
 Hampshire be ? 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, Avould 
 you not say, and with good reason, "No : what should 
 we 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 EngiandT'' 
 
 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, 
 that the burden of the poor-rates presses, at ijiis 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 laiid 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 ; vv^hile land, not so good, would 
 let, in any part of Lancashire, near to the manufac- 
 tories, at 605. or 80.9. 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 ; are they, now, to complain, if the vicinage of 
 these same works causes a charge of rates there, 
 heavier than exists here? Are the owners and occu- 
 piers of Lancashire to enjoy an age of adva^itages 
 from the labours of the spinners and the weavers ; 
 and are they, when a reverse comes, to hear 7ione of 
 the disadi'antagcs 7 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 iuA^alue, three^ 
 five, or perhaps tenfold ? None but the most unjust of 
 mankind can.answer these questions in the affirmative. 
 7. But as greediness is never at a loss for excuses 
 for the hard-heartedness that it is always ready to 
 practise, it is said, that the whole of the rents of the 
 land and the houses would not suffice for the purpose; 
 that is to say, that if the poor rates were to be made 
 so high as to leave the tenant no means of paying 
 rent, even then some of the poor must go without a 
 sufficiency of food. I 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 parishes mRj be made to 
 assist the hard pressed parish ; and if the pressure be- 
 comes severe on these adjoining parishes, those next 
 adjoining ihemmay be made to assist; and thus the call 
 upon adjoining parishes maybe extended till it reach 
 alt over the count?/. So good, so benignant, so wise, so 
 foreseeing, 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 United States of 
 America, 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 being that 
 treads English ground shall perish for want of food 
 and raiment. For such poor persons as are unable 
 to work, the law provides food and clothing; audit 
 comman-ds that work shall be provided for such as 
 
I.] POOR man's friend. 9 
 
 are able to work, and cannot otherwise get employ- 
 ment. This laAv was passed more than two hundred 
 years ago. Many attempts have been made to chip 
 it moay, 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 snch 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 };ossible, that 
 relief lohich will 'prevent such necessity! In other 
 words, how imperati\^e 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 "sz66- 
 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 lav/yers and most wise of men, maintain- 
 ing the affirmative of this proposition ; if we find 
 them maintaining, that it is neither/e/o??y nor larceny 
 to take food, in case of extreme necessity, though 
 without the assent, and even against the Avill 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, ren- 
 der them of little effect, and thereby constantly keep 
 thousands exposed to this- dire necessity ! 
 
 9. In order to do justice to this great subject; in 
 order to treat it Avith perfect fairness, and in a man- 
 ner becoming of me and of you, I must take the au- 
 thorities 0)1 both sides. There are some great lawyers 
 who have contended that the starving man is still 
 guilty of felony or larceny, if he take food to satisfy 
 his hunger ; but there are a greater number of other, 
 and still greater, lawyers, who maintain the con- 
 trary. The general doctrine of those who niaintain 
 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 
 
 Jirst law of nature."' The law of nature teaches 
 every creature to prefer the preservation of its own 
 life to all other thij^gs. But, in order to have a fair 
 view of the matter before us, we ought to inquire hoAV 
 it came to pass, that the laws were ever made to pu- 
 nish men as criminals, for taking the victuals, drink, 
 or clothing, that they might stand in need of We must 
 recollect, then, that there was 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 com- 
 mon. Thus were men situated, when they lived 
 under Avhat is called the law of nature; Avhen 
 every one provided, as he could, for his self-pre- 
 servation, 
 
 10. At length this state of things became changed : 
 men entered into society ; they made laws to restrain 
 individuals from.folloAving, in certain cases, the dic- 
 tates of their own will ; they protected the weak 
 against the strong; the laws secured men in posses- 
 sion of lands, houses and goods, that were called 
 THEIRS ; the words MINE and THINE, which 
 mean my own and //<?/ own, were invented to desig- 
 nate what we now call a property in things. The 
 law necessarily made it criminal in one man to take 
 
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 ifi his possession, eoxild be 
 no crime, because there was 7W property in anything, 
 except in man's body itself Noav, 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 for 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 Avould 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 communiiy, and such there are tonow 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 laufulness 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 and 7ner/iber, and protects every 
 man in the enjoyment of them^ but also furnishes 
 him with every thing necessary for their support. 
 For there is no man so indigent or wretched, but he 
 may demand a supply svfjicientfor all the necessaries 
 of life from the more opulent part of the community, 
 by means of the several statutes enacted for the re- 
 lief of the poor; a humane provision c^tcto^efZ by the 
 principles of society.'''' 
 
 11. No man will contend, that the main body of 
 the people in 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 the people Avould 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 cattle 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 lime, not have provided the means of pre- 
 venting those of them, who might fall into indigence, 
 from being actually starved to death ! It is impossi- 
 ble to believe this. Men never 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 be 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 
 they 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 was, 
 the '■'■'principle of society /'^ clearly was, as Black- 
 stone defines it, that the indigent and wretched should 
 have a right to " demand from the rich a supply sif- 
 
 ficient for all the necessities 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 Avith 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 Sturges 
 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 [No. 
 
 things which men of property, above all others, ought 
 to*ioish to see maintained, seeing that, according to 
 the opinions of the greatest and the wisest of men, 
 they must suffer 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 wouldlake, where they now simply 
 demand (as Blackstone expresses il) in the name of 
 the law. There has been some difference of opinion, 
 as to the question,, whether it be theft or «o theft ; or, 
 rather, whether it be a criminal act, or not a criminal 
 act, for a person, in a case of extreme necessity from 
 want of food, to take food without the assent and even 
 against the will, of the owner. We have, amongst 
 our great lawyers. Sir Matthew Hale and Sir Wil- 
 liam Blackstone, who contend (though as we shall 
 see, with much feebleness, hesitation, and reservation, ) 
 that it is theft, 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 hearing of these authorities, 
 let me take a short view of the origin of the poor laws 
 in England; for that view will convince us, that, 
 though the present law was passed but a little more 
 than two hundred years ago, 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 Mirrour 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 Eng- 
 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 
 was made for the sustenance of the poor. The words 
 are these : " It was ordained, that the poor should be 
 sustained by joarsons, by rectors of the church, and 
 by the parishioners, so that 7ione of them die for want 
 of sustenance.'''' Several hundred years later, the ca- 
 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 canons of 
 the church at a later period ; we have acts of Parlia- 
 ment at a time when the poAver 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 whi^hthe poor had been formerly fed, were 
 compelled to pass a law to raise moneij^ by way of 
 tax^for relieving the necessities of the poor. They 
 had passed many acts before the forty-thfrd year of 
 the reis^n of tbis Queen. Elizabeth ; but these acts 
 were all found to be ineffectual, till, at last, in the 
 forty-third year of the reign of tbis tyrannical Queen, 
 and in the year of our Lord 1601, that famous act 
 was passed, which has been in force until this day ; 
 and Avhich, as I said before, is still in force, notwith- 
 standing all the various attempts of folly and cruelty 
 to get rid of it. 
 
 16. Thus, 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 nnfortimate law. They 
 affect to regard it as a great INNOVATION, seeing 
 that no such law existed before ; but, as I have shoAvn, 
 a better law existed before, having the same object 
 in view. I 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 iiotliing new, then, in the "'■"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 GRANTS, and see 
 if we cannot hnd 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 Avhich 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 rei^n of GIueen 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 laAvyers as to the 
 question, whether it be, or be not, theft, to take Avith- 
 out his consent and against his will, the victuals of 
 another, in order to prevent the taker from starving. 
 Sir Matthew Hale, a^id 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 
 v>d!i 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 
 Croys^n, 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 fitrti et rapiiuE res-tit u- 
 tione, § 3, 4, p. 473 ; and Grotids, 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 dislri/jufions of property cease, and by a kind of 
 tacit condition \hQJirst community doth return, and 
 upon this those common assertions are grounded: 
 ' Quicquid necessitas cogit, defend it.'' [Whatever 
 necessity calls for, it justifies.] '■Necessitas est lex 
 temporis et loci.'' [Necessity is the law of time and 
 place.! */n casu extremes necessitatis omnia sunt 
 
18 cobbett's [No. 
 
 communia.^ [In case of extreme necessity, all things 
 are m common;'] and, therefore, in such case theft is 
 no theft, or at least not punishable as theft; and some 
 even of our own lawyers have asserted the same ; 
 and very bad use hath been made of this concession 
 by some of the Jesuitical casuists of France, who 
 have thereupon advised apprentices and servants to 
 rob their masters, where they have been indeed them- 
 selves in want of necessaries, of clothes or victuals; 
 whereof, they tell them, they themselves are the com- 
 petent judges ; and by this means let loose, as much 
 as they can, by their doctrine of probability, all the 
 ligaments of property and civil society." 
 
 20. B. " I do, therefore, take it, that, where per- 
 sons live under the same civil government, as here 
 in England, that rule, at least by the laAVs of E^ig- 
 land, is false ; and, therefore, if a person being imder 
 necessity for loant of victuals, or clothes, shall,- upon 
 that account, clandestinely, and ^aninio fura7idi,^ 
 [with intent to steal,] steal another man's goods, 
 it is felony, and a crime, by the laws of England, 
 punishable with death ; although the judge before 
 whom the trial is, in this case (as in other cases of 
 extremity) be by the laws of England intrusted 
 with a power to reprieve the offender, before or after 
 judgment, in order to the obtaining the King's mercy. 
 For, 1st, Men's properties would be under a strange 
 insecurity, being laid open to other men's necessi- 
 ties, whereof no man can possibly judge, but the 
 party himself And, 2nd, Because by the laws of 
 this kingdom [here he refers to the 43 Eliz. cap. 2] 
 sufficient provision is made for the supply of such 
 necessities by collections for the poor, and by the 
 power of the civil magistrate. Consonant hereunto 
 seems to be the law even among the Jews ; if we 
 may believe the wisest of kings. Proverbs vi. 30, 31. 
 'Mew do not despise a thief if he steal to satisfy his 
 soul when he is hungry, hut if he he found, he shall 
 restore seven-fold,, he shall give all ilie suhstance 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, '■ in casu extremcB neces- 
 sitatis omnia sunt communia,^ 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^ 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 tlie 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 co'mm,on,''\ 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 cobbett's [No. 
 
 and servants id rob their masters, and that they thus 
 "let loose the ligaments of property and civil society." 
 I fancy that it would require a pretty large portion of 
 that sort of faith whicli induced this Protestant judge 
 to send witches and wizards to the gallows ; a pretty 
 large portion of this sort of faith, to make us believe, 
 that the " casuists of France," who, doubtless, had 
 servants of their own, would teach servants to rob 
 their masters ! In short, this prattle of the judge 
 seems to have been nothing more than one of those 
 Protestant effusions which were loo much in fashion 
 at the time when he wrote. 
 
 24. He begins his second paragraph, or paragraph 
 B., by saying, that he " takes it " to be so and so ; 
 and then comes another qualitied expression ; he talks 
 of civil government " as here in England.'''' Then 
 he says, that the rule of Grotius and others, against 
 which he has been contending, "he takes to be false, 
 at least,'''' says lie, " by the laws of England.'" After 
 he has made all these qualifications, he then pro- 
 ceeds to say that such taking is theft; that it '\?> felony; 
 and it is a crime which the laws of England punish 
 with death! But, as if stricken with remorse at 
 putting the frightful words upon paper; as if feeling 
 shame for the law and for England itself, he in- 
 stantly begins to tell us, that the judge who presides 
 at the trial is intrusted, " by the laws of England,'''' 
 with power to reprieve the offender, in order to the 
 obtaining of the King''s mercy ! Thus he softens 
 it down. He will have it to be LAW to put a man 
 to death in such a case ; but he is ashamed to leave 
 his readers to believe, that an English judge and an 
 English king WOULD OBEY THIS LAW!' 
 
 25. Let us now 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 property, 
 if it were laid open to the necessities of the indigent, 
 of which necessities no man but the takers them- 
 selves coidd be the judge. He talks of a "strange 
 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," 
 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 Avorld 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 a. jury and a judge 
 to receive evidence and to ascertain ichether the ex- 
 treme necessity existed or not ? 
 
 26. Aye, say's 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 thum})ing 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 youAvill 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 
 duEEN 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 qualifying observation left the 
 sophistry still so shameful^ that his editor, Mr. Emlyn, 
 who published the work under authority of the House 
 of Commons, did not think it consistent with his re- 
 putation to suffer this passage to go forth unaccom- 
 panied with the following remark : " But their (the 
 Jews') ordinary punishment being entirely pecuniary^ 
 could affect him only when he was found in a condi- 
 tion to answer it; 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 interpretation 
 of these two verses of the Proverbs. Puffendorf, 
 one of the greatest authorities that the world knows 
 anything of, observes, upon the argument built upon 
 this text of Scripture, " It may be objected, that, in 
 Proverbs, chap. vi. verses 30, 31, he is called a thi.e_f] 
 and pronounced obnoxious to the penalty of theft, 
 who steals to satisfy his hunger ; but whoever closely 
 views and considers that text will find that the thief 
 there censured is neither in such extreme necessity 
 as we are now supposing, nor 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. si[^cient 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 we 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 pri^e of 
 provisions." 
 
 28. Besides this, I think it is clear that these two 
 verses of the Proverbs do not apply to one and the 
 same person; for in the first verse it is said, that men 
 do not 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 thief? 
 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 
 hungev from being- co7ifounded 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 could not have seven-fold ; 
 could not have any substance in his house. But what 
 are we to think of Judge Blackstone, Avho, in his 
 Book IV., chap. 2, really garbles these texts of Scrip- 
 ture. He clearly saw the effect 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, aiid 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 tliis shuffling fel- 
 low ; this smooth-spoken and mean wretch, who is 
 himself thief enough, God knows, if stealing other 
 men's tho\ights and words constitute theft ; this in- 
 16 
 
24 cobbett'3 [No. 
 
 tolerably mean reptile has, in the first place, left out 
 the words '■'■men do not despise:^'' then he has left 
 out the words at the beginning of the next text, '■'■hut 
 if he be found.'''' Then in place of the " /<e," which 
 comes before the words '■'•sJiall give,'''' he puts the word 
 ^'■and ;'''' 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 represents the 
 passage to be in one verse ! Perhaps, even in the 
 history of the conduct of crown-lawyers, there is not 
 to be found mention of an act so coolly bloody-minded 
 as this. It has often been said of this Blackstone, 
 that he not only lied himself, but made others lie; 
 he has here made, as far as he was able, a liar of 
 King Solomon himself: he has wilfully garbled the 
 Holy Scripture ; and that, too, for the manifest pur- 
 pose of justifying cruelty in courts and judges ; for 
 the manifest purpose of justifying the most savage 
 oppression of the poor. 
 
 29. After all. Hale has not the courage to send 
 forth this doctrine of his, without allowing that the 
 case of extreme necessity does, "in some vieasure,^^ 
 and ^^ in particular cases,'''' and, "by the tacit or silent 
 consent of nations," hold good ! What a crowd of 
 qualifications is here ! With what reluctance he con- 
 fesses that which all the world knows to be true, that 
 the disciples of Jesus Christ pulled off", without leave, 
 the ears of standing corn, and ate them " being an 
 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 Turkish corn, and what is called corn (as being 
 far surpassing all other in excellence) in the Eastern 
 countries Avhere 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 wholesome and as effici- 
 
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 J did not propose to punish them for 
 theft; but found fault of them only for having plucked 
 the corn on the Sabhath-day ! To pluck the corn 
 was to do icork, 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 " 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 w^hich would have 
 been sacrilege under any other circumstances; that 
 which would have been one of the most horrible of 
 crimes against the laio 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 the 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 
 earnest intof that is to say, when thou enterest or 
 goest into, " thy neighbour's vineyard, then thou 
 mayest 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 harul; 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 
 
26 cobbett's [No. 
 
 of it ; and therefore, as these texts made very strong- 
 ly against him, he does not give them at full length, 
 but gives us a misrepresenting abbreviation. 
 
 31. He had, however, too much regard for his re- 
 putation to conclude without acknowledging the right 
 of seizing on the provisions of others at sea. He 
 allows that private chests may be broken open to pre- 
 vent men from dying with hunger at sea. He does 
 not stop to tell us why men's lives are more precious 
 on sea than on land. He does not attempt to recon- 
 cile these liberties given by the Scripture, and by the 
 maritime laws, with his own hard doctrine. In short, 
 he brings us to this at last : that 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 Avill not acknowledge this, he plainly leaves 
 us to conclude, that no English judge and no Eng- 
 lish king will ever punish a poor creature that takes 
 victuals to save himself from perishing ; and he 
 plainly leaves us to conclude, that it is the poor-laws 
 of England ; that it is their existence and their due 
 execution^ which deprive everybody in England of 
 the right to take food and raiment in case of extreme 
 necessity. 
 
 32. Here I agree Avith 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 legal 
 security to property. Without them, cases must fre- 
 quently arise, which would, according to the law of 
 nature, according to the lav/ of God, and as v/e shall 
 see before we have done, according to the law of 
 England, bring us into a state, or, at least, bring par- 
 ticular persons into a state, which as far as related to 
 them, would cause the law of nature to revive, and 
 to make all thing's to be owned in common. To ad- 
 here, then, to these poor-laws ; to cause them to be duly 
 executed, to prevent every encroachment upon them, to 
 preserve them as the apple of our eye, are the duty of 
 every Englishman, as far as he has capacity so to do. 
 
II.] POOR man's friend. 27 
 
 33. Ihave, 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. ^/:r- 
 'pence only will be the cost of it. It will creep about, 
 by degrees, over the wliole of this kingdom. All the 
 authorities, all the arguments, will be brought into 
 this small compass; and I do flatter myself that 
 many months will not pass over our heads, before all 
 but misers and madmen will be ashamed to talk of 
 al)olishing 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 thefl^ or no theft, in 
 a case of taking another's goods without his consent, 
 or against his Avill, 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 
 
28 cobbett'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, this 
 shocking court sycophant; 1 vAW not treat him as he 
 has treated King Solomon and the Holy Scriptures ; 
 I will not garble, misquote, and belie him, as he gar- 
 bled, misquoted, and belied them ; I will give the 
 whole of the passage to which I allude, and which 
 my readers may find in the Fourth Book of his Com- 
 mentaries. I request you to read it with great atten- 
 tion ; and to compare it, very carefully, with the pas- 
 sage that I have quoted from Sir Matthew Hale, 
 which you will find in paragraphs from 19 to 21 
 inclusive. The passage from Blackstone is as 
 follows : 
 
 35. '• There is yet another case of necessity, 
 which has occasioned great speculation among the 
 writers upon general law; viz., whether a man in 
 extreme want of food or clothing may justify steal- 
 ing either, to relieve his present necessities. And 
 this both Grotius and- Puffendorf, together Avith 
 many other of the foreign jurists, hold in the 
 affirmative; maintaining by many ingenious, hu- 
 mane, and plausible reasons, that in ^uch cases the 
 community of goods by a kind of tacit concession of 
 society is revived. And some even of our own law- 
 yers 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 incommodura 
 ferendum est, potius quam de alterius commodis de- 
 trahendum;' but also to the Jewish law, as certified 
 by King Solomon himself: ' If a thief steal to satisfy 
 his soul when he is hungry, he shall restore seven- 
 fold, and shall give all the substance of his house:' 
 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 
 
IL] pooPw 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 s7/stein, 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 
 Blagkstone, like Hale, comes, at last, to the poor- 
 laics; 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 coiv 
 
30 cobbett's [No. 
 
 stitution." That is to say, to relieve the necessitous ; 
 to prevent their suffering from want ; completely to 
 render starvation impossible, makes a part of our 
 very constitution. " THEREFORE, our laws ought 
 by no means to be taxed with being unmerciful for 
 denying this privilege to the necessitous." Pray 
 mark the • word therefore. You see, our laws, he 
 says, are not to be taxed with being unmerciful in 
 deeming the necessitous taker a thief And ichy are 
 they- not to be deemed unmerciful? BECAUSE 
 the laws provide effectual relief for the necessitous. 
 It follows, then, of course, even according to Black- 
 stOne himself, that if the Constitution had not pro- 
 vided this effectual relief for the necessitous, then the 
 laws would have been unmerciful in deeming the ne- 
 cessitous taker a thief. 
 
 37. But now let us -hear what that Grotius and 
 that PuFFENDORF Say ; let us hear what these great 
 writers on the law of nature and of nations say upon 
 this subject. Blackstone has mentioned the names 
 of them both ; but 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 that ever wrote ; and their writings are referred 
 to as high authority, with regard to all the subjects of 
 which they have treated. The following is a pas- 
 sage from Grotius, 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 considered, lohat 
 was 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 writieii laws are to be construed 
 in that sense, as far as it is practicable, much more 
 90 are customs, which are not fettered by the chains 
 
II.] POOR mak'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 tney had remained in common ; 
 because, in all human laws, as well as in the law of 
 private property, this case of extreme necessity ap- 
 pears 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 m.any contend, that th? 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- 
 tice 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 
 
33 cobbett's [No. 
 
 own well as far as forty cubits. Upon which Pld- 
 TARCH adds, that he judged that necessity was to be 
 relieved, riot laziness to be encouraged.'*'' 
 
 40. Such is the doctrine of t!iis celebrated civilian. 
 Let us now hearPuFFENDORF; 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 age of study : they have been 
 two. of the great guides of mankind ever since they 
 wrote : and, we are not to throw them aside, in order 
 to listen exclusively to Parson Hay, to Hulton of 
 HuLTON, or to Nicholas Grimsiiaw. They tell us 
 what they, and what other wise men, deemed to be 
 right ; and, as we shall by and by see, the laws of 
 England, so 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 I request you to read the following pas- 
 sage with the greatest attention. 
 
 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 ii 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 be 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 one 
 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 Avith 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 and perfect 
 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 laio. 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 cobbett's [No. 
 
 Whence the stealing of what was another's, though 
 upon extreme necessity, passed in that state for theft 
 or rapine. But now supposing under another govern- 
 ment the like good provision is not made 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 
 by his work or service, or by making sale of anything 
 that he possesses, to assist his present necessity, inust 
 he, therefore, perish with famine? Or can aiiy hu- 
 man institution hind me with such a force that, in 
 case another man neglects his duty towards me, / 
 must rather die, than recede a little from the ordina- 
 rij and, regidar way of acting 7 We conceive, there- 
 fore, that such a person doth not contract the guilt of 
 theft, 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 (hem from the voluntary gift of the 
 rich, either by urgent entreaties, or by offering some- 
 what equivalent in price, or by engaging to work it 
 out, shall either forcibly or privily relieve himself out 
 of their abundance ; especially if he do it with full 
 intention to pay the value of them Avhenever his bet- 
 ter fortune gives him ability. Some men deny that 
 such a case o{ necessity, as we speak of, can possibly 
 happen. But what if a man should Avander 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 Avhatever 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 condition ?" 
 42. Many other great foreign authorities might be 
 referred to, and I cannot help mentioning Covarru- 
 vros, who is spoken of by Judge Hale, and who ex- 
 presses himself upon the subject in these words: 
 ' The reason why a man in extreme necessity may, 
 v:ithout incurring the guilt of thtft or rapine, forci- 
 
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 iDctnts of wankind 
 may be in any manner removed by the nse of tempo- 
 ral possessions." Puffendorf tells us, that.PERESius 
 maintains, that, in case of extreme necessity, a man 
 is compelled fo 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. Aimbrose says, "it is the 
 bread of the hungry which you detain ; it is the rai- 
 ment of the naked which you 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 raakes 
 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, ^lack- 
 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 
 
36 cobbett's [Nd< 
 
 stone ought to have given the argument of Puffen- 
 DORF ; he ought to have given the whole of his argu- 
 ment ; hut particularly he ought to have given this 
 explanation of the passage in the Proverks, which 
 explanation I have inserted in paragraph 27. It was 
 also the height of insincerity in Blackstone, to pre- 
 tend that the passage from Gicero had anything at 
 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 clothing ; 
 but, he had read Puffendorf, and Puffendorf had 
 told him, that Cicero's was a question of the mere 
 conveniences and inconveniences of life in general; 
 and not a question of pinching hunger or shivering' 
 nakedness. Blackstone had seen his fallacy expo- 
 sed by Puffendorf ; he had seen the misapplication 
 of this passage of Cicero fully exposed by Puffen- 
 dorf; and yet the base court-sycophant trumped it up 
 again, without mentioning Puffendorf's exposure of 
 the fallacy ! In short this Blackstone, upon this 
 occasion, as 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. 
 
 44. Let us now cast away from us this insincere 
 sycophant, and turn to other law authorities of our 
 own country. ^The Mirrour of Justices^ {c\}iole(\. by 
 me in paragraph 14,) Chap. 4, Section 16, on the sub- 
 ject of arrest of judgment of death, has this passage. 
 Judgment 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, or clothes that 
 they die 'not of cold, (so that they perish if they keep 
 not themselves frohi cold,) theij are not to be adjudg- 
 ed to death, if it were not in their power to have bought 
 their victucils or clothes ; for a^ much us they are loar- 
 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 time. It may be call- 
 ed therecordof thelawsof Edwardthe 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 ^escribes 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 ; Avith exception of children under age, and 
 o( poor people loJio for hunger, enter to take any sort 
 of victuals of less value than twelve pence ; 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 hreaker-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. 
 
38 cobbett's [No. 
 
 very reign of Edward the First. So that, a hungry 
 man might have a pretty good belly-full in those days 
 without running the risk of punishment. Observe, by- 
 the-by, how time has hardened the law. We are told of 
 the dark ages^ of the barbarous customs^ of our fore- 
 fathers : and we have a Sir James Mackintosh to 
 receive and to present petitions innumerable, frora 
 the most tender hearted creatures in the world, about 
 " softening the criminal code ;" but, not a word do 
 they ever say about a softening of this laiu, which 
 now hangs a man for stealing the value of a RAB- 
 BIT, and which formerly did not hang him till he 
 stole the value of an OX ! Curious enough, but still 
 more scandalous, that we should have the impudence 
 to talk of our huinanitij, and our civilization^ and of 
 the barbarousness of our forefathers. But, if a part 
 of the ancient law remain, shall not the whole of it 
 remain ? If we hang the thief, still hang the thief 
 for stealing to the value o^ twelve pence ; though the 
 twelve pence now represents a rabbit instead of an 
 ox ; if we still do this, would Blacr'stone take away 
 the benefit of the ancient law from the starving man? 
 The passage that I have quoted is of such great im- 
 portance as to this question, that I think it necessary 
 to add, here, a copy of the original, which is in the 
 old Norman-French, of which I give the translation 
 above. " Sunt tenus burgessours trestous ceux, que 
 felonisement en temps de pees debrusent esglises 
 ou auter mesons, ou murs, ou portes de nos cytes, ou 
 de nos burghes ; hors pris enfauntz dedans age, et 
 poures, que, pur feyn, entret pur ascun vitaille de 
 meindre value q' dexii deners,et hors pris fous nastres, 
 et gens arrages, et autres que seuent nule felonie faire." 
 46. After this, lawyers, at any rate, will not attempt 
 to gainsay. If there should, however, remain any one 
 to affect to doubt of the soundness of this doctrine, let 
 them take the following from him who is always call- 
 ed the '■'■pride of philosopJnj,^''the '■^ pride of English 
 learning,-'' raid whom the poet Pope calls " greatest 
 and wisest of mankind." It is Lord 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 Avhere 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 ; and necessity of the 
 act of God or of a stranger. — First, of conservation of 
 life ; if a man steal viands (victnals) 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 aAvay 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 cobbett's [No. 
 
 same human nature that tells me that I am not to cut 
 my neighbour's throat, and drink his blood, tells me 
 that I am not to make him die at my feet by keeping 
 from him food or raiment of which I have more than 
 I want for my own preservation. 
 
 48. Talk of barbarians, indeed; Talk of ^Hhe dark 
 and barbarous ages.'''' Why, even in the days of the 
 Druids, such barbarity as that of putting men to death, 
 or of punishing them for taking to relieve their hun- 
 ger, was never thought of. In the year 1811, the 
 Rev. Peter Roberts, A. M. published a book, enti- 
 tled Collectanea Cambriga. In the first volume of 
 that book, there is an account of the laws of the An- 
 cient Britons. Hume, and other Scotchmen, would 
 make us believe, that the ancient inhabitants of this 
 country were a set of savages, clothed in skins and 
 the like. The laws of this people were collected and 
 put into writing, in the year 694 before Christ. The 
 following extract from these laws shows, that the 
 moment civil society began to exist, that' moment 
 the law took care that people should not be starved 
 to death. That moment it took care, that provision 
 should be made for the destitute, or that, in cases of 
 extreme necessity, men were to preserve themselves 
 from death by taking from those who had to spare. 
 The words of these laws (as applicable to our case) 
 given by Mr. Roberts, are as follows : — " There are 
 three distinct kinds of personal individual property, 
 which cannot be shared with another, or surrendered 
 in payment of fine; viz., a wife, a child, and argy- 
 frew. By the word argyfrew is 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 unjust in the law to unman a man, or to 
 uncall a man as to his calling." Triad 53d. — "Three 
 kinds of THIEVES are not to be 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 vain, 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 " rejlnement,'' let this law rela- 
 tive to a youth under age, be compared with the new 
 orchard and garden law, and with the tread-mill 
 aftair, 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 %iade 
 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 
 imrong 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 witli 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 their 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 iio 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 
 
43 COBBETT^S [No. 
 
 justice is there, then, in calling upon this man to 
 take up arms and risk his life in the defence of the 
 land: what is the land to him '? I so?/, that it is some- 
 thing to him; I say^ that he ought to be called forth to 
 assist to defend the land ; because, however poor he 
 may be, he has a share in the land, through the poor- 
 rates; and if he be liable to be called forth to defend 
 the land, the land is always liable to he taxed for his 
 support. This is what I say: my opinions are con- 
 sistent with reason, with justice, and with the law 
 of the land; but, how can Malthus and his silly and 
 nasty disciples ; how can those who want to abolish 
 the poor-rates or to prevent the poor from marrying; 
 how can this at once stupid and conceited tribe look 
 the labouring man in the face, while they call upon 
 him to take up arms, to risk llis life, in defence of the 
 land? Grant that the poor-laws are just; grant that 
 every necessitous creature has a- right to demand re- 
 lief from some parish or other ; grant that the law 
 has most effectually provided that every man shall 
 be protected against the effects of hunger and of cold; 
 grant these, and then the law which compels the 
 man without house or land to take up arms and 
 risk his life in defence of the country-, is a perfectly 
 just law; but, deny to the necessitous that legal and 
 certain relief of which I have been speaking; abolish 
 the poor laws; and then this military-service law be- 
 comes an act of a character such as I defy any pen 
 or tongue to describe. 
 
 52. To say another word upon the subject is cer- 
 tainly unnecessary; but we live in days wihen '■'■stern 
 necessity'^ has so often been pleaded for most fla- 
 grant departures from the law of the land, that one 
 cannot help asking, whether there were any gi-eater 
 necessity to justify Addington for his deeds of 1817 
 than there would be to justify a starving man in tak- 
 ing a loaf? Addington pleaded necessity^ and he 
 got a Bill of Indemnity. And, shall a starv^ing man 
 be hanged, then, if he take a loaf to save himself 
 from dying ? When Six Acts were before the Par- 
 liament, the proposers and supporters of them never 
 
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 /e.r," that is to say " The 
 salvation of the people is the first law.''^ Well, then, 
 if the salvation of the people he 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- 
 
 f)ensed with, in order to obviate a possible and specu- 
 ative 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, 
 tSalus populi suprema lea? may come from the lips of 
 the famishing people with as much propriety as they 
 carhe 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 whiclj we have ; that the poor have 
 nothing to do, but to apply to the overseer, or to ap- 
 peal from him to the magistrate ; that the magistrate 
 has 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 populations'''^ who 
 
44 cobbett's [No- 
 
 are hatching schemes for preventing the labouring' 
 'people from having childre?! : who are about spread- 
 ing their nasty beastly publications ; who are hatch- 
 ing schemes of emigration; and who, in short, seem 
 lO be doing every-thing in their power to widen the 
 fearful breach that has already been made between 
 the poor and the rich. The government has nothing 
 to do but to cause the law to be- honestly enforced;- 
 and then we shall see no starvation, and none of 
 those dreadful conflicts which the fear of want, as 
 well as actual want, never fail to produce. The bare 
 X\iong\\iQ^ forced em igrotion to a foreign state, includ- 
 ing, as 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 become necessary in England^ is 
 enough to make an Englishman mad. But, of these 
 projects, these scandalous nasty beastly and shame- 
 less projects, we shall have time to speak hereafter ; 
 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 an attempt was, on the 5th of September, 
 made to cheat them into an address, applauding the 
 comluct of the Ministers ! What ! Had the people 
 of Stockport so soon forgotten \Qth of August I 
 Had they so soon forgotten their townsman, Joseph 
 Swan \ If they had, they would have deserved to 
 perish to all eternity. Oh, no I 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 EUenborough's law; the 
 poacher-transporting law ; the sun-set and sun-rise 
 transportation law; the tread-mill law; the select- 
 vestry law; the Sunday-toll laws; the new trespass.- 
 law; the new treason law; the seducing-soldier- 
 hanging law; the new apple-felony law; the SIX 
 ACTS; and a great number of others, passed in th9 
 
"III.] POOR man's friend. 45 
 
 reign of Jubilee. Quite soon enough to applaud, that 
 is, for the sensible people gf Stockport to applaud, 
 the Ministers, when those Ministers have proposed 
 to repeal these laws, and, also, to repeal the 7nalt tax, 
 and those other taxes, which take, even from the 
 pauper, one half of what the parish gives him to 
 keep the breath warm in his body^ Q,uite 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- 
 mo7is 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. 
 
 Ilursthourne Tarrant {called Uphiisband,) 
 Hants, ]3th 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 rheans which up- 
 
46 cobbett's [No. 
 
 hold communities of men ; though, without poverty, 
 there could be no charity, and none of those feelings, 
 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 ago. England 
 was always famed 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 countrv in Europe ; but, its good living, its 
 superiority in this particular respect, was proverbial 
 amongst all who knew, or Avho 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. 
 How, then, did this horrible, this disgraceful, this 
 cruel poverty come upon this once 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, after all, the great badge, the 
 never-failing badge, of slavery. Bare bones and rags 
 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 
 f)od and of raiment. Good gov^ernment 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 
 such people for almost any sort of crime, which is, 
 
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- 
 ties. — To what degree the main body of the people, 
 in England, are now poor and miserable ; how deplo- 
 rably wretched they now are ; this we know but too 
 well ; and now, we Avill see what was their state be- 
 fore this vaunted " Reformation." I shall be very 
 particular to cite my author Uies here, I will infer 
 nothing; I Avill give no " esLimate ;'''' 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 I5th 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- 
 cellor 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 Chancei- 
 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 Leguni 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 piirelp 
 incidental ; it was not intended to answer any tem- 
 porary purpose. It miist have been a true account. — 
 The Chancellor, after speaking generally of the 
 nature of the laws of England, and of the difference 
 18 
 
48 cobbett'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 part of all their loines, 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 of his men at arms. So that the King's 
 troops, which are always considerable, are substituted 
 and paid yearly by those common people, who live in 
 the villages, boroughs, and cities. Another grievance 
 is, every village constantly finds and maintains two 
 cross-boiD-vien, at the least ; some find more, well 
 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 ye-arly upon every village within the king- 
 dom, for the King's service ; neither is there ever any 
 intermissio7i or abatement (f taxes. Exposed to these 
 and other calamities, the peasants live in great hard- 
 ship and misery. Their constant drink is water, 
 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 ivoollens, 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 
 and naked. The women go barefoot, except on holi- 
 days. They do not eat Jiesh, 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, 
 partn'dg'es, hares, and the like, are reserved, upon 
 pain of the galiies ; as for their poultry, the soldiers 
 consume them., so that scarce the eggs, slight as they 
 are, are indulged them, by Avay 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 icith 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 fiock, 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, l^hey 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 ofjieshaudfsh, of which 
 they have plenty every-wJiere ; they are clothed, 
 throughout in good ivoollens; 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, 
 \\\\o 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-flesh and grains (draff) in Lan- 
 cashire and Cheshire ; who are harnessed like liorses, 
 and drawing gravel in Hampshire and Sussex ; who 
 have dd. a day allowed them by the magistrates in 
 Norfolk; who are, all over England, Avorse fed than 
 the felons in the jails. Go, and tell them, when they 
 raise their hands from the pig-trough, or from the 
 grains-tub, and, with their dirty tongues, cry " No 
 Popery ;^^ go, read to the degraded and deluded 
 wretches, this account of the state of their Catholic 
 forefathers, who lived under what is impudently 
 called " Popish superstition and tyranny,^^ and in 
 those times which we have the audacity to call '• the 
 dark ages.'''' — Look at the //je;i picture of the French; 
 and, Protestant Englishmen, if you have the capacity 
 of blushing left, blush at the thought of how precisely 
 that picture fits the English now! Look at all the 
 parts of the picture ; the food, 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 fit 
 his own boasted country, what would he have said? 
 What 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 ; Avhen 
 potatoes would be carried to the field as the only food 
 of the ploughman ; when soup-shops would be open 
 to feed the Englisli ; 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 
 the complaints against Magistrates at Northaller- 
 ton) declare that bread and water were the general 
 food of working people in England ? What would 
 he have said ? 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 taxes, 
 and requiring a constantly standing army ; if he had 
 been told this, he would have foreseen our present 
 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, moralj brav^e, free and happy fathers, he would 
 have said, " God's will be done : let them suffer." — 
 But, it may he said, that it was not, then, the Cath- 
 olic Church, but the Lows, 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. .4 provision/or 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- 
 ished by being "compelled to fast a fortnight on bread 
 and beer P'' This was about the year 1380, in the 
 reign of Richard II. Oh ! miserable '■'■ dark agesP'' 
 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* 
 
52 cobbett's [No. 
 
 has these words : "These being THE FOOD OF 
 THE POORER SORT." This is conclusive. It 
 is an incidental mention of a fact. It is an Act of 
 Parliament. It must have been true; and, it is a fact 
 that we know well, that even the Judges have de- 
 clared from the Bench, that bread alone is now the 
 food of the poorer sort. What do Ave want more than 
 *this to convince us, that the main body of the people 
 have heen impoverished by the " Reformation ?" — 
 But I will prove, by other Acts of Parliament, this 
 Act of Parliament to have spoken truth. These 
 Acts declare what the wages of workmen shall be. 
 There are several such Acts, but one or two may suf- 
 fice. The Act of 23d of Edw. III. fixes the wages, 
 without food, as follows. There are many other 
 things mentioned, but the following will be enough 
 for our purpose. 
 
 s. d. 
 A woman liay-making, or weeding corn^ for the day 1 
 A man tilling dung-cart -------- 3| 
 
 A reaper ------------ 4 
 
 Mowing an acre of grass - - 06 
 
 Thrashing a quarter of Wheat 04 
 
 The price of sJioes, doth, and of jyrovisions, through- 
 out the time that this law continued in force, was as 
 follows : — 
 
 L. s. d. 
 
 A pair of shoes -- 00 4 
 
 Russet broad-cloth the yard ------01 1 
 
 A stall-fed ox - - - - - 1 4 
 
 A grass-fed ox 16 
 
 A fat sheep unshorn -018 
 
 A fat sheep shorn .--012 
 
 A fat hog 2 years old 3 4 
 
 A lat goose -------- ^ - - 2i 
 
 Ale, the gallon, by proclamation 1 
 
 Wheat the quarter --. 034 
 
 White wine the gallon 6 
 
 Red wine ----- 004 
 
 These prices are taken from the Preciosum of Bishop 
 Fleetwood, who took them from the accounts kept 
 
III.] POOR MA^i'H 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 daifs work^ and when a woman 
 was allowed, lor a daifs weeding^ the price o,f a quart 
 of red wine ! ISvo yards of the cloth made a coat 
 for the shepherd.; and, as it cost 25. 2f/., the reaper 
 would earn it in Q^ 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 v/e may easily believe, that 
 " beef, pork, and mutton," were " the food of the 
 poorer sort^ And, mind, this was " a priest-ridden 
 people f^ a people '-buried in Popish superstition!''^ 
 In our days of " Protestant light" and of" ynental 
 enjoyment,'''' the " poorer sort" are allowed by the 
 Magistrates of Norfolk, 3c/. a day for a single man 
 able to Avork. That is to say, a half-penny less than 
 the Catholic dung-cart man had ; and that 3c/. will 
 get the " No Popery'''' gentleman about six ounces of 
 old ev/e-mutton, while the Popish dung-cart man got, 
 for his day" rather more than the quarter of a. fat 
 siieep. — But, the popish people might Avork harder 
 than " enlightened Protestants." They might do more 
 work in a day. This is contrary to all the assertions 
 of the feefosophers; 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\>Y the acre, and at the thrashing of wheat 
 by the quarter; and let us see how these wages are 
 now, compared Avith 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 Avages, and of Mr. George, of Norfolk, 
 as to price of wheat. The report Avas dated 18tn 
 June, 1821. The accounts are for 20 years, on an 
 
54 cobbett's [No. 
 
 average, from 1800 inclusive. We will now proceed 
 to see how the " popish, priest-ridden" Englishman 
 stands in comparison with the " No Popery^'' Eng- 
 lishman. 
 
 POPISH MAN. KG POPERY MAN. 
 
 s. d. s. d. 
 
 Mowing an acre of grass - - 6 3 7| 
 
 Thrashing a quarter of Wheat 4 4 
 
 Here are '■'"waust improvements, Mau'm!" But, now 
 let us look at the relative 'price of the wheat, which 
 the labourer had to purchase with his wages. We 
 have seen, that the " popish superstition slave''' had 
 to give fivepence a bushel for his wheat, and the evi- 
 dence of Mr. George states, that the '■^enlightened 
 Protestant" had to give 10 shillings a bushel for his. 
 wheat ; that is 24 times as much as the " popish /bo/," 
 who suffered himself to be "priest-riddeu." So that 
 the " enlightened?'' man, in order to make him as well 
 off as the " c/ar/c-ages" man was, ought to receive 
 twelve shillings, instead of 3s. Tfc/. for mowing an 
 acre of grass ; and he, in like manner, ought to re- 
 ceive, for thrashing a quarter of Avheat, eight shil- 
 lings, instead of the foitr shillings which he does 
 receive. If we had the records, we should doubtless 
 find, that Ireland was in the same state. 
 
 56. There ! That settles the matter as to ancient 
 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 
 farm-labourer, his loife and three children, which 
 allowance, reckoning according to the present mo- 
 ney-price of the articles which he allows amounted 
 to 13s. \d. He put the sum, at what he deemed the 
 lowest possible sum, on which the people could const. 
 Alas ! we shall find, that they can be made to exist 
 upon little more than one-half o( this sum ! 
 
UL] 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-'\9ave 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 te"n years old, which was just ^hout /if tiy ij ears 
 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 tiDentij-four years from the date 
 of Arthur Young's allowance, the poverty and de- 
 gradation of the English people had made great 
 strides. Wewerenowin the year 1795, and a new war, 
 and a new series of " victories and prizes^'' had begun. 
 But who it was that svffered, 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 v^^as, in that year, a Ta- 
 ble, or Scale, of allowance, framed by the Magis- 
 trates of Berkshire. This is, by no means, a hard 
 
56 cobbett's [No. 
 
 county; and therefore it is reasonable to suppose, 
 that the scale was as good a one for the poor as any 
 in England. According to this scale, ivhich was 
 printed and published, and also acted upon for years, 
 the weekly alloAvance, for a man, ?iis wife and three 
 children, was, according to present money-prices, lis. 
 Ad. Thus it had, in the space of twenty-four years, 
 fell from 135. \d. to \\s. Ad. Thus were the people 
 brought to the pig-meat ! Food, fit for men, they 
 could not have with lis. Ad. a week for five per- 
 sons. 
 
 59. One would have thought, that to make a hu- 
 man being live upon4(:/. a day, and find/«e/, clothing^ 
 rent, washing, and bedding, out of the Ad., besides 
 eating and drinking, was impossible ; and one would 
 have thought it impossible for any-thing not of hellish 
 birth and breeding, to entertain a wish to make poor 
 creatures, and oar neighbours too, e^tist in such a 
 state of horrible misery and degradation as the la- 
 bourers of England were condemned to by this scale 
 of 1795. Alas ! this was happiness and honour; this 
 was famous living ; this lis. Ad. a week was luxury 
 and feasting, compared to what we J\OW BE- 
 HOLD ! For now the allowance, according to pre- 
 sent money-prices, is 8s. a v/eek for the man, his 
 wife, and three children; that is to sav '^d. In 
 words, TWO PENCE AND FIVE SEVENTHS 
 OF ANOTHER PENNY, FOR A DAY ! There, 
 that is England now ! That is what the base 
 wretches, who are fattening upon the people's la- 
 bour, call " the envy of surrounding nations and the 
 udmiration of the world." This is what Sir Fran- 
 cis BuRDETT applauds ; and he applauds the mean 
 and cruel and dastardly ruffians, whom he calls, "the 
 country gentlemen of England," and whose genero- 
 sity he cries up; Avhile he Avell knoAvs, that it is they 
 (and he amongst the rest) who are 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 
 coiuplain; if their hunger make them cry out, are 
 either punished by even harder measures, or are 
 skipped 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 I 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 w^orking neighbours live upon 2f f/. a day ; 
 that is to say 2c/. 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: Bounces 
 of meat ; 12 ounces of bread ; 1 pint of broth ; 2 quarts 
 of good beer. This is the daily alloAvance. 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. 9f/. a week; while the 
 working man is allowed Is. Id. a week ! For, he 
 cannot and he Avill not see his wife and children actu- 
 ally drop dov^^n dead v^^ith hunger before his face; 
 and this is what he must see, if he take to himself 
 more than ^fflh of the allovv^ance 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 knoAv precisely what is neces- 
 sary ; and having the power to order the proper al- 
 lo-wance, they order it. If, then, they make an al- 
 lowance like that, which we have seen, to a person 
 
68 cobbett's [No, 
 
 who is under a regimen for a broken limb ; to a person 
 who does no work, and who is, nine times out of ten, 
 unable to take any exercise at all, even that of walk- 
 ing about, at least in the open air ; if the eminent sur- 
 geons of London deem six shiUings and ninepence 
 loorili of victuals and drink, a week, necessary to 
 such a patient; if they think that nature calls for 
 so much in such a case ; what must that man be 
 made of, .who can allow to a loorking man, a man 
 fourteen hours every day in the open air, one shil- 
 ling and sevenpence worth of victuals and drink for 
 the Aveek ! Let me not however ask what " that 
 wan" can be made of; for it is a monster and not a 
 man : it is a murderer of men : not a murderer with 
 the knife or the pistol, but with the more cruel instru- 
 ment of starvation. And yet, such monsters go to 
 church and to nieeting ; aye, and subscribe, the base 
 hypocrites, to circulate that Bible wliich commands 
 to do as they would be done by, and v/hich, from the 
 first chapter to the last, menaces them v/ith punish- 
 ment, if they be hard to the poor, the fatherless, the 
 widow, or the stranger ! 
 
 62 But, not only is the patient, in a hospital, thus 
 so much more amply fed than the working man ; the 
 prisoners in the jails; aye, even the convicted felons, 
 are fed better, and much better, than the working men 
 now are! Here is a fine " Old England;^'' that 
 country of " roast beef and plumb pudding : " that, as 
 the tax-eaters say it is, " envy of surrounding nations 
 and admiration of the world." Aye ; the country 
 Was all these ; but, it is now precisely the reverse 
 of them all. We have just seen that the honest la- 
 bouring man is allowed 2^1. a day; and thai will 
 buy him a 'pound and a half of good bread a day, and 
 no more, not a single crumb niore. This is all he has. 
 Well enough might the Hampshire Baronet, Sm 
 John Pollen, lately, at a meeting at Andover, call the 
 labourers ^'- poor devils,^'' and say, that they had 
 " scarcely a rag to cover them ! " A pound and a half 
 of bread a day, and nothing more, and that, too, to 
 work upon! Noav, tlien, how fare the prisoners in 
 
III.] POOR man's friend. 59 
 
 the jails? Why, if they be CONVICTED FELONS, 
 they are, say the Berkshire jail-regulations, "to have 
 ONLY I3READ and water, with vegetables occasion- 
 ally from tlie 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 sursceon 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, alloAV- 
 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 they 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 that not half a belly-full ! And 
 19 
 
60 cobbett's [No. 
 
 yet you see the people that seem surprised that crimes 
 increase ! Very strange, to be sure ; that men should 
 like to work upon meat and broth better than they 
 like to work upon dry bread ! No wonder that new 
 jails arise. No wonder that there are now two or three 
 or four or five jails to one county, and that as much is 
 now written upon " prison discipline''' as upon almost 
 any subject that is going. But, why so good, so gen- 
 erous, to FELONS ? The truth is, that they are not 
 fed too loell; for, to be starved is no part of their sen- 
 tence ; and, heie are SURGEONS who have some- 
 thing to say ! They know very well that a man may 
 be murdered by keeping necessary food from him. 
 Felons are not apt to lie down and die quietly for want 
 of food. The jails are in larg-e towns, where the news 
 of any cruelty soon gets about. So that the felons 
 have many circumstances in their favour. It is in the 
 villages, the recluse villages, where the greatest cruel- 
 ties are committed . 
 
 64. Here, then, in this contrast between the treat- 
 ment of the WORKING FELON and that of the 
 WORKING HONEST MAN, we have a complete 
 picture of the present state of England ; that horrible 
 state, to which, by slow degrees, this once happy 
 country has been brought ; and, I should now proceed 
 to show, as I proposed in the first paragraph of this 
 present Number, HOW THERE CAME TO BE 
 SO MUCH POVERTY AND MISERY IN ENG- 
 LAND ; for, this is the main thing, it being clear, 
 that, if we do not see the real causes of our misery, 
 we shall be very unlikely to adopt any effectual reme- 
 dy. But, before I enter on this part of my subject, 
 let me prove, beyond all possibility of doubt, that what 
 I say relatively to the situation of, and the allowances 
 to, the labourers and their families, IS TRUE. The 
 cause of such situation and allowances I shall show 
 hereafter; but let me first show, by a reference to in- 
 dubitable facts, that the situation and-allowances are 
 such as, or worse than, I have described them . To 
 do this, no way seems to me to 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, /, 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. 
 
 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, poitnds 
 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 hiimility ^nd mercyy 
 
 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? 'W \\?^. hoxxxhly iinenlightenedimiesl 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 jj 
 
63 cobbett's [No. 
 
 John King, who is one of this happy nation's greatest 
 and oldest pensioners. So that, away go the great 
 tithes, not leaving a single wheat-ear to be spent in 
 the parish. The Small Tithes belong to a Vicar, 
 who is one Fisher, a nephew of the late bishop of 
 Salisbury, who has not resided here for a long while ; 
 and who has a curate, named John Gale, who being 
 the son of a little farmer and shop-keeper at Burbage 
 in Wiltshire, was, by a parson of the name of Bai- 
 ley (very ivell known and remembered in these parts), 
 put to school ; and, in the fulness of time, became a 
 curate. So that, away go also the small tithes 
 (amounting to about 500/. or 600/. a year); and, out of 
 the large church revenues; or, rather, large church- 
 and-poor revenues, of these two parishes ; out of the 
 whole of them, there remains only the amount of the 
 curate, Mr. John Gale's, salary, which does not, 
 perhaps, exceed seventy or a hundred pounds, and a 
 part of which, at any rate, I dare say, he does not ex- 
 pend in these parishes : away goes, I say, all the rest 
 of the small tithes, leaving not so much as a mess of 
 milk or a dozen of eggs, much less a tithe-pig, to be 
 consumed in the parish. 
 
 67. As to tfie poor, the parishes continue to be in 
 two ; so that I am to be considered as speaking of the 
 parish of Uphusband only. You are aware, that, 
 amongst the last of the acts of the famous Jubilee- 
 Reign, was an act to enable parishes to establish 
 SELECT VESTRIES; and one of these vestries 
 now exists in this parish. And now, let me explain 
 to you the nature and tendency of this Jubilee-Act. 
 Before this Act was passed, overseers of the poor had 
 full authority to grant relief at their discretion. 
 Pray mark that. Then again, before this Act was 
 passed, any one justice of the peace might, on com- 
 plaint of any poor person, order relief. Mark that. 
 A select vestry is to consist of the most considerable 
 rate-payers. Mark that. Then, mark these things: 
 this Jubilee-Act/or/>iV/s the overseer to grant any re- 
 lief other than such as shall be ordered, by the select 
 v-stry: 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 
 YidcYe '' 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 beinij loo 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 '■'■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 
 W^HOLE 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. 
 
 19* 
 
64 cobbett's 
 
 WIDOWS. 
 
 £ s. d. 
 
 Blake, Ann 8 
 
 Bray, Mary 8 
 
 Cook, Ann 7 6 
 
 Clark, Mary - 10 
 
 Gilbert, Hannah 8 
 
 Marshall, Sarah 10 
 
 Smith, Mary 8 
 
 Westrip, Jane 8 
 
 Withers, Ann 8 
 
 Dance, Susan 080 
 
 BASTARDS. 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 2 children ----0120 
 
 2 children - - - - 12 
 
 10 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 8 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 6 
 
 OLD MEN. 
 
 Blake, John 16 
 
 Cannon, John 14 
 
 Cummins, Peter 16 
 
 Hopgood, John 16 
 
 I-Iolden, William 6 
 
 Marshall, Charles 16 
 
 Nutley, George -----070 
 
 FAMILIES. 
 
 Bowley, Mary 4 
 
 Baverstock, Elizabeth, 2 children 9 4 
 
 Cook, Levi - - - 5 children 5 4 
 
 [No. 
 
 4 3 6 
 
 5 8 
 
 4 11 
 
III.] POOR man's friend. 65 
 
 FAMILIES. 
 
 £. s. d. £. s. d. 
 
 Kingston, John - - 6 ditto - 10 
 
 Knight, John - - - 6 ditto - - 10 
 
 Newman, David - - 5 ditto - 5 4 
 
 Pain, Robert - - - 5 ditto - - 5 4 
 
 Synea, William - - 6 ditto - 10 
 
 Smith, Sarah (Moses) 1 ditto - - 4 8 
 
 Studman, Sarah - 2 ditto - 9 4 
 
 White, Joseph - - - 8 ditto - - 19 4 
 
 Wise, William - - 6 ditto - 10 
 
 Waldren, Job - - - 5 ditto - - 5 4 
 
 Noyce, M. Batt, 7 do. 6 weeks' pay 12 
 
 6 10 
 
 EXTRA IN THIS MONTH. 
 
 Thomas Farmer, ill 3 days - - 4 
 Levi Cook, ill 4 weeks and 1 day 1 13 4 
 Joseph White's child, 6 weeks -070 
 Jane Westrip's rent ----020 
 William Fisher, 1 month ill - - 1 12 
 Paid boy, 2 days iU ----- 8 
 James Orchard, ill ----- 1 2 
 James Orchard's daughter, ill - 8 
 Adders and Sparrows - - - - 2 3i 
 Wicks for Carriage ----010 
 
 Paid Marv Hinton 4 
 
 Joseph Farmer, ill 3 <lays - - 2 9 
 Thomas Cummins -----060 
 Samuel Day, and son. ill - 
 
 Total amount for the 4 weeks 
 
 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 
 
 
 
 8 
 
 2 
 
 nil A 
 
 
 - ■ 
 
 
 cs 
 
 - 27 3 10^ 
 
66 cobbett's [No. 
 
 of woman ! Shall we not feel then for the poor 
 widow who, in her old age, is doomed to exist on 
 two shillings a week, or threepence halfpenny a day, 
 and to find herself c/o^/ies and washing and fuel and 
 bedding out of that ! And, the poor old men, the very 
 happiest of whom gets, you see, less than Id. a day, 
 at the end of 70 of 80 years of a life, all but six of 
 which have been years of labour ! I have thought it 
 right to put blanks instead of the names, under the 
 second head. Men of less rigid morality, and less 
 free from all illicit intercourse, than the members of 
 the Select Vestry of Uphusband, would, instead of 
 the word bastard.^'''' have used the more amiable one 
 of ^^ love-child ;^^ and, it may not be wholly improper 
 to ask these rigid moralists, whether they be aware, 
 that they are guilty of LIBEL, aye, of real criminal 
 libel, in causing these poor girls' names to be frinted 
 and published in this way. Let them remember, that 
 the greater the truth the greater the libel ; and, let 
 them remember, that the mothers and the children 
 too, may have memories! But, it is under the head 
 of '-FAMILIES" that we see that which is most 
 worthy of our attention. Observe, that eight shil- 
 lings a week is the wages for a day labourer in the vil- 
 lage. And, you see, it is only when there are more 
 than four children that the family is allowed any- 
 thing at all. " Levi Cook," for instance, has Jive 
 children.^ and he receives allowance for one child. 
 ".TosEPH White" has eight children^ and he receives 
 allowance for four. There are three widows under 
 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 at all is allowed to a 
 family of a man, a wife, and four children, beyond 
 the bare eight shillings a week of wages ; and this 
 is even worse than the allowance which I contrasted 
 with that of the hospital patients and convicted fe- 
 lons ; for there I supposed the family to consist of a 
 man, his wife and three children. If 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 ? Cannot that be dispen- 
 sed with ? Must he have as much as all the widows, 
 or all the old wen? 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 wen 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 1 I went to see Avith 
 my own eyes some of the '■^parish Jiouses,^'' 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 hare 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 Avere 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 shockingboth 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, wnttonand real 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 otlier furniture in their houses, 
 
68 cobbett's poor man's friend. 
 
 were of wool, and that in great store, and who were 
 well provided with all sorts of household goods, every- 
 one having all things that conduce to make life easy 
 and happy !" 
 
 73. I have now, my friends of Preston, amply pro- 
 ved, that what I have stated relative to the present 
 state of, and allowances to, the labourers is TRUE. 
 And now we are to do all we can to remove the evil ; 
 for, removed the evil must he, or England must be 
 sunk for ages; and, never will the evil he removed, 
 until its causes, remote as well as near, be all clearly 
 ascertained. With my best wishes forthe health ana 
 happiness of you all, 
 
 I remain, 
 
 Y'our faithful friend, and most obedient servant, 
 
 Wm. Cobbett. 
 
 THE END.