246 THE DAILY LIFE OF OUR FARM. 



soil taking a too hasty and unwholesome gulp when it 

 gets the chance, the consequence being a fine mist, which 

 covers the face of the whole earth, as we read it did 

 in the first days of the Creation. So it is that we poor 

 weak men cannot imitate the grandeur *of the Almighty, 

 the plan by which supply is adjusted to want in the 

 fairly-used economy of our world. 



You will have read those exquisite lines of the noble 

 poet's in reference to Lake Leman — 



*' Is it not better, then, to be alone, 

 And love earth only for its earthly sake ? 

 By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone, 

 Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake, 

 Which feeds it as a mother who doth make 

 A fair, but fro ward infant, her own care, 

 Kissing its cries away as these awake. " 



Beautiful and touching they all are, but it was for the 

 sake of the last sentiment that I have quoted them — 

 " Which feeds it as a mother." We have no power to 

 feed as nature feeds. How vile an imitation would the 

 fizzing shower of the water-cart be of this gentle damp- 

 ing and sequent greenhouse climate which the infant 

 mangold is experiencing in anticipation of an abundant 

 draught duly to arrive. 



"Nobody knows," but I cannot say that "nobody 

 cares " — quoting poetry again ; though in the shape 

 of an epitaph on a favourite hound in Delamere Forest, 

 which runs thus in its entirety — 



** Bluecap's dead, and here she lies : 

 Nobody laughs and nobody cries. 

 How she shares and liow she fares, 

 Nobody knows and nobody cares." 



Dear old Vic ! the bandly-legged Breadalbane terrier, 



