12 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



arable land, well pulverised and dressed with salt ; and 

 in the drill there was deposited a thick pudding of dark^ 

 pulpy paste, which the spade cut as cheese — the result 

 of twice turning the winter-stored manure-heap that 

 had been carted on to the adjoining headland. 



On this piece the fly played old gooseberry with the 

 plants ; and we thought it was all over with them 

 entirely (a neighbour fairly ridiculed the plot), when 

 behold ! the fit took them : the leaves sprang out, the 

 solid bulb increased, and they never looked back again. 

 The lines are thin here and there, it must be confessed, 

 owing to the ravages of the fly and grub during the 

 plants' infancy ; but such roots as survived are the 

 admiration of the adjoining farmers, and their superi- 

 ority I attribute altogether to the heavy salting the 

 land got (the mangold being of sea-side origin), and 

 the burnt-tofFy-tinted, gum-like, residuum with which 

 we lined each furrow. 



Of two facts, then, we are convinced more than ever 

 — viz., that roots like their manure-food soluble, not 

 strawy ; and that salt is essential to the satisfactory 

 development of at least the mangold-wurzel. 



At the late picturesque Tewkesbury Show, where 

 the competing charms of the cattle-yard, flower-show, 

 regatta, and two bands were delightfully combined for 

 the enjoyment of a butterfly crowd, on a right sunny 

 day — such a combination as we wish all cattle-shows 

 could be — we were lounging by the river-bank, await- 

 ing the return of some racing four-oar crews in gay 

 attire, when we were accosted by an old friend — one of 

 the smartest of men, who makes to succeed whatever 

 he may take in hand. We had not met for a long 

 time ; and our chat was protracted. His last words, 



