496 Chronicles of a Clay Farm. [November, 



old drainer throwing out those lumps of many-colored clay, and 

 sand, and gravel, and peat, it was really too much for me. The 

 monomania was irresistible ; and the old fellow must have known it ; 

 for at the very moment when the paraoxysm was at its hight — just 

 when the extravagant thought was flashing across me that though 

 every body declared nem. con. that it was bad, some one had pro- 

 nounced it good — ^just at that very moment of weak hallucination, 

 the old Lucifer, smacking his lips in an odd way of his own, looked 

 up temptingly in my face, with his question, " A queer lot, Sir ! — ■ 

 What shall I do with it ?" 



Blue and red, yellow and grey, white and black, stiff and loose, 

 gritty and waxy, cohesive and repellent, soft and hard — there it lay 

 before my eyes, my precious subsoil in all its Protean variety of col- 

 or, texture, and consistency ; there lay the rascally substratum that 

 had pulled down strong men, one after another, who had tried to 

 grow crops over it, exposed at last and brought to daylight like an 

 unearthed fox ; there it lay, dripping away its long pent-up moisture 

 down the narrow channel that led to the newly-opened out-let, 

 throu"-h that same Ions; meadow afore-time celebrated in this Chrou' 

 icle ; reminding one of a fallen foe bleeding out life and mischief at 

 last and forever. The impulse of pent-up theory was irresistible. 

 " Let it be spread over the land !" 



And so it was. And a very curious-looking field it made for the 

 livelono- winter that ensued. Wise men came from all the quarters 

 of the compass to look at it. Some of their remarks and questions 

 were very flattering. "Where had I purchased my Winter top-dress- 

 ing 9 as they should like to buy some at the same shop, cost what it 

 mio-ht." " What winter crop was I growing so carefully under the 

 variegated carpet?"' To all which I answered with becoming grav- 

 ity, and modesty of my own merit. Some of the remarks being of 

 a more mysterious character, I entered in my farm journal for future 

 explanation and experience ; such for instance as that of an old 

 gentleman who shutting one eye, (I suppose it was a habit,) told me 

 with great blandness of manner that I -^ put my foot in it'' (What 

 could he mean ?) Another was so full of general good wishes that 

 he "wished I might get it " more than once ; which I thought all the 

 more good-natured as he did not even stay to particularize what crop 

 he alluded to as wishing me to get, or how much per acre. But of 

 course I civilly " wished him the same," gently shutting one eye as 



