342 



Dialogue — Cultivation. 



Vol. IV. 



have made sad havoc near the root of the 

 tree, as, disease arising from the poverty of 

 the sub-soil, will, in all probability, have en- 

 gendered life. Lime and deep trenching 

 will, however, heal the malady, if applied 

 in time. To this disease is owing the 

 change of the colour of the leaf before the 

 autumn, and the falling of unripe fruit, with 

 many other symptoms of premature decay. 



No. 7. The poor surface and rich sub-soil 

 are also very common, and before the tree 

 can reach the good soil beneath, poverty has 

 stricken it, and many there are which perish 

 for want of sustenance, not having strength 

 sufficient to reach the buried treasure ; they 

 languish for want of support, and without 

 timely assistance are doomed to starvation. 

 We may find many semblances to this case, 

 I fear, amongst the children of the poor and 

 friendless ; for, according to the poet, 



" Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. 

 And waste its sweetness on the desert air." 



Frank. — Yes, and T know one who is so 

 unfortunately circumstanced : it is poor George 

 Hastings, the apprentice to the blacksmith ; 

 how I pity him, when I see him drawing 

 figures with chalk upon a board, and hear 

 him sigh, because he cannot read I while his 

 brutal master checks every attempt at im- 

 provement, and does all in his power to keep 

 him in ignorance, that he may the better suit 

 his selfish purpose, " wondering what such 

 a one as he should want with learning." If 

 he could be helped forward, I have no doubt 

 he would make great progress, for he is re- 

 markably bright; but he has not strength 

 of himself to reach the rich sub-soil. 



Father. — This is the easiest of all the dis- 

 orders above enumerated, to cure ; it is only 

 to dig deep into the surface-soil some good 

 compost and lime, repeating it after a time, 

 when it will soon be found to strengthen the 

 roots, so as to enable them to strike deep 

 enough to reach the rich sub-soil, and so to 

 help themselves. We will look after George 

 Hastings, remember : I dare say we can as- 

 sist him, until he is able to help himself. 



No. 8. The sour and stubborn soil. A 

 wretched bed indeed ! nothing but discontent 

 and disorder can spring from it. The tree 

 that is planted in such a soil, exhibits almost 

 all the disorders that trees are heirs to. The 

 rough and knotted bark, the faded leaf, the 

 late springing, and early falling of which, 

 show the malady contained in its system — 

 the crooked branches, and very short shoots 

 of a whole summer's growth; while the 

 canker-worm is ever grinding his way be- 

 tween the bark and the body of the tree, 

 destroying its energies, and crippling all its 

 exertions ! I suppose you will not be at a 

 loss to find a poor unfortunate neighbour, 



who is too much in the state of this pitiable 

 tree. 



Frank. — I cannot be mistaken, it is poor 

 farmer Grabb ! and see, here he comes, 

 that's remarkably odd ! and how strangely 

 he looks. 



Father. — It is so, but strange as he is, and 

 deficient in energy and perseverance, he is 

 greatly to be pitied, as well as blamed, for 

 the world appears to him a blank, or even 

 worse ; the errors of his education, too, haunt 

 him, and he is always foreseeing coming 

 events of the most gloomy character ; poor 

 man, all goes wrong with him, because he 

 takes things by the wrong end. Good day, 

 neighbour, this is fine weather, isn't if? 



Grabb. — Ah, 'tis all very pretty while it 

 lasts, but I see, very plainly, that a change 

 is coming, for the old rooster, when he crow'd 

 this morning, turned his tail to the rainy 

 quarter, and that 's a pretty sure sign with 

 me, that we shall have it again before long ; 

 I never knew too much fine weather at this 

 time of the year, and I dare say I shall not 

 be so lucky as to be disappointed in my ex- 

 pectations now ; indeed, I looked for rain 

 before this, or I should have dragged down 

 my fallow, as you have your's to-day ; you 

 know the song says, "sunshine's succeeded 

 by rain," and so, I am sure, it has always 

 been with me through life, and so, I have 

 no doubt, it will continue. If I want sun, 

 it rains ; and when I want rain, the sun will 

 shine in spite of me — it's enough to sour a 

 crab — But here comes farmer Sykes — how 

 do, neighbour? 



Sykes. — Why, thank you, neighbour Grabb, 

 well and happy. My friend here, and I, have 

 worked down our fallow to-day, and I am 

 now come to invite him to join me in a work 

 of charity, in going over to the widow Wil- 

 liams, to-morrow morning, to assist her in 

 this her time of need. But why didn't you 

 drag your fallow to-day 1 it would have 

 worked finely ; I fear you will not be ready 

 for sowing turnips, as this is only your first 

 ploughing, you know. 



Grabb. — I do know it, and was always 

 sure I would be behind-hand ; but you see, 

 I thought we should have rain to-day, and 

 was afraid to begin, lest I should be caught 

 in the midst of the work : I wish now that 

 I had done as you have, for nothing would 

 give me more pleasure than to accompany 

 you to-morrow — hang it, I think I will do so 

 too. 



Sykes. — No, you cannot, for you owe a 

 duty to yourself and family, and until that 

 is performed, you have no right to share 

 in the " luxury of doing good." Charity 

 begins at home, remember, and so you must 

 drag down your fallow to-morrow. How 



