212 CHRONICLES OF A CLAY FAKM. 



digging, it is not harrowing, raking, hoeing, rolling, 

 scarifying, clod-crushing, scuffling, grubbing, ridging, 

 casting, gathering, that we want : all these are the 

 time-honoured, time-bothered means to a certain 

 RESULT. That result is a seed-bed : and a seed- 

 bed is, simply described, a layer of soil from six to 

 twelve inches in depth, rendered fine by comminution, 

 and as far as possible inverted during the process. 



You may call this ' Theory,' my good Mr. Prac- 

 tical, but I tell you it is TRUTH : simple, philoso- 

 phical, practical Truth. Since the Invention of the 

 Steam-engine, it might and may be done at one 

 process, as easily as before in twenty : and it will be. 

 Before we depart this life, we shall see one more 

 wonder moving upon the face of the earth, some- 

 thing of this form and fashion to wit a complete 

 locomotive engine on four wheels, the fore pair 

 turning on a transome, the hind ones fixed ; behind 

 them a transverse cylindrical shaft, about three 

 feet in diameter, and from five to six feet long, 

 reminding one of a cross between a clod-crusher 

 and a hay-tedding machine, armed with steel 

 tine-points, in shape like a mole's claw, arranged 

 so that the side-lap of each claw may cover the 



