214 
AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
[Mat, 
“What Makes the Ground Crack in 
Freezing?” 
This is a question sent by “ T.D.A.,” Blair Co.,Pa. 
If my young friend should fill a bottle with water, 
and leave it out on a cold night, he would find the 
water frozen in the morning, and the bottle broken. 
It is one of the most important facts in nature, 
that water, in changing from the liquid to the solid 
6tate, that is in becoming ice, expands to one ninth 
part of what goes on every winter. Upon the face 
of even the hardest rocks, there are little cracks and 
crevices into which water can find its way; when 
this water freezes, little bits of the rock are pushed 
off, and are added to the soil. By far the greater 
part of our soil is made up of very small bits of 
rock. When the soil freezes, not only are cracks 
made'in it, but the little bits of rock of which it is 
made up, are cracked and broken still smaller ; this 
division among the little rock particles, goes on 
DAISY ON HER WAY FROM SCHOOL. 
of its former bulk. The power exerted in doing 
this is immense, sufficient even to burst strong 
iron vessels. Suppose that instead of a bottle of 
water, as mentioned above, you were to expose a 
lot of glass tubes of the size of straws and filled 
with water. If these tubes, some dozens of them, 
were tied together and placed where the water 
would freeze, there would be a curious mass of 
broken glass and ice. We well know that the 
earth, or “ground,” as “ T. D. A.,” has it, is very 
far from solid. We can squeeze it up in the hand 
to form a compact mass. The ground is full of 
spaces between its particles, which are usually 
filled with air. If these spaces are filled with water, 
and it freezes, what a pushing there would be ! It 
is this freezing of the water in the soil that causes 
the cracks in the first place; after the little films 
and layers of ice in the soil melt, the particles of soil 
that have been pushed aside can not get back to their 
former place, and cracks are left. The cracking of 
the soil in this manner, which we can see, is only a 
year after year, until what was once the great rock, 
becomes the finest imaginable powder, to be acted 
upon by the water in the soil, and help feed the 
plants. So useful is this freeziug of the water in 
the soil, that many gardeners, in the fall, throw 
up the earth in ridges, the more thoroughly to ex¬ 
pose it to the frost. As a gardener once said to 
me: “ it will make my poor soil as fine as silk.” 
The Doctor. 
Daisy and the School-House Key. 
There was a new' school-house at Osage aud a 
new teacher. The house, standing on a side road, 
had windows so high from the lloor that no idle 
scholar was tempted to look out at a passing hay- 
cart. Miss Gold, the teacher, was kind and strict, 
small and prim, and though afraid of cows and 
bugs and tramps, she easily controlled the naugh¬ 
tiest child that ever sulked or stamped, and her 
courage thus lay iu the right direction. So when 
Peter Brown was very bad on this particular 
Friday, she punished him fearlessly, and after al¬ 
lowing him an hour for reflection, sent him home. 
That same afternoon, our Daisy, of the picture, 
was going through the fields, when she heard her 
name called, and stopping, Peter popped his head 
up from the bushes, and nodded in a mysterious 
way. Peter told her at once that she could do the 
teacher a good turn, if she would promise never, 
never to tell that she had the hint from him. He 
so evidently meant what he said, that she gave him 
the promise readily, hoping in her good heart that 
he was at last sorry for always being so dreadful a 
boy. Daisy, the sweetest, the truest, and most 
faithful little soul that ever sat behind a desk, 
could not suspect the piece of malice that Peter, 
with a grin of delight, then confided to her. Wait¬ 
ing until Miss Gold was quite alone and busy at her 
writing-desk, he softly turned the key in the lock, 
and fastened her in the school-room. For over an 
hour, now, she had been locked up, shaking the 
door and calling from the window, but no one had 
passed by, and no one but Peter was near enough 
to hear her. “ And now she knows how she likes 
it! ” exclaimed Peter. Daisy’s first act was to let 
Miss Gold know relief was at hand; her next, to 
find some one to get the door open, and by that 
time the news was well spread. Some thought it a 
good joke, but others felt that it was no joke at all 
to have in the village a character daring such law¬ 
lessness. Miss Gold had quite her own feelings on 
the subject, aud when the school assembled Mon¬ 
day morning, she called each scholar by name, and 
asked if he or she knew anything of the matter. 
All said “No,” except Daisy, who answered 
“Yes.” But she would say nothing further than. 
“If you please, I can’t tell.”—“I am sure,” said 
Miss Gold, “ we none of us believe Daisy guilty; 
but as she will not tell what she knows, and so 
grave an'oflence cannot be passed over, she must 
be punished instead of the real offender. I hope,” 
concluded Miss Gold, “if the real offender is in 
this room, he or she will feel the shame of letting 
an innocent person suffer, and Will prevent it.” 
But no one responded, and the medal was taken 
from Daisy’s neck, aud she was suspended from 
the school until Miss Gold should consider what 
was best to do further. No one but Daisy knew' 
how hard it was to truthfully keep her promise. 
With downcast countenance, she walked quietly 
out of the silent room, carrying her slate and the 
flowers she had picked that morning, but had not 
given to Miss Gold. She stopped and looked wist¬ 
fully, half hoping to see Peter runuing to call her 
back. But, though no Peter came, his grand¬ 
mother, lame Mrs. Brown, appeared, hobbling up 
the road. Daisy’s heart was heavy, yet she was 
half relieved by the sight of Mrs. Brown, whom 
she had often heard say, “no one ever did any¬ 
thing for me,” that she fell into sympathy with 
the grandmother of so bad a boy as Peter. So she 
ran up, and, holding out her flowers, “Mrs. Brown,” 
she said, “ I would like to give these to you.”— 
The lady stared at her, almost bewildered, aud 
asked, “ What do you want ? ”—“ I would like you 
to take them, because I’m sorry nobody does any¬ 
thing for you,” said Daisy.—“Well, well,” said 
the old lady, less sharply, “ you’re a queer child,” 
and she took the flowers, with no further thanks. 
But as she was going off, she stopped again to ask 
why Daisy was not iu school. When she heard 
why, Mrs. Brown muttered to herself, looked at 
the flow r ers and at Daisy, and, finally bidding her 
wait, went off to the cottage. When she came 
back, she held a key in her hand, and closing 
Daisy’s fingers over it, said : “ There, if you want 
to do something for me, take that to your teacher, 
and tell her Mrs. Brown said she found it in Peter’s 
trouser’s pocket.” Daisy did so, and the whole 
school rose aud shouted with joy. And Peter ? 
Why, he said he was very much obliged to his 
grandmother, for he was growing more wretched 
every moment, and must have confessed some 
time.” But the most wonderful thing of all is, 
that, before the end of that term, the three best 
friends iu the school were the new teacher, the boy 
that locked her in, and little Daisy, who brought 
back the school-house key. George Adams. 
