86 
THE CULTIVATOR. 
make use of them either to heighten their wood dyes, or for dying by 
themselves a soft blue; but in general they are made to undergo ano¬ 
ther process, by which they are improved; this is called refining. 
This last operation is, however, seldom performed by the manufactur¬ 
ers, but by the dealers to whom they are sold in large quanti¬ 
ties ; the reason of this is, that the process of refining can be perform¬ 
ed advantageously only on large masses, and the proprietor of the fields 
for cultivating woad has only the product of his harvest, and the con¬ 
veniences necessary for making it into cakes. 
For refining the woad cakes, it is necessary that they should either 
be ground in a mill or broken in pieces with an axe ; the fragments are 
made into beds about four feet high, and sprinkled either with water, 
or, what is preferable, with the juice of the leaves; heat is developed in 
a short time, and a violent fermentation takes place. At the end of 
six days the bed is turned, so as to bring the interior or under portion 
upon the top; this is watered in the same manner, and, five or six days 
after, the bed is again made over with the same care. These opera¬ 
tions are renewed at short intervals, till the mass, having ceased to 
ferment, becomes cold ; in this state all the animal and vegetable por¬ 
tions, with the exception of the indigo, are decomposed, and it is now 
sold to the dyers to the greatest advantage. 
The mode of making woad cakes here described, is undoubtedly the 
most perfect one, but it is not everywhere practised. At Genoa they 
do not refine them ; in the department of Calvados, and upon the Rhine, 
they pile up the leaves without grinding them; and they mould the 
cakes as soon as the division of the mass will allow of this operation. 
It is necessary to observe, that an immense variety in the quality of 
the cakes is produced, not only by the nature of the soil and climate, 
but also by the difference of seasons, and by the care bestowed upon 
the cultivation of the plant and the gathering of the leaves ; and from 
these circumstances arises the different estimation in which they are 
held in commerce, and consequently the various prices at which they 
are sold. The leaves of woad yield about one-third their weight of 
good cakes ; these, when used with indigo to form dyes for producing 
a permanent blue colour, serve not only to facilitate fermentation, but 
add the indigo which they contain, to that which is brought from India, 
and thus render the dye less expensive. 
The cakes, especially those that have been refined, contain alone a suf¬ 
ficient quantity of indigo to give to cloth all the shades of blue, which 
can be procured from the imported material. M. Giobert states, that 
M. Alexander Mazera, in the presence of several skilful dyers and ma¬ 
nufacturers, and of the commissaries of the Academy of Turin, co¬ 
loured with the cakes four pieces of fine cloth of four different shades, 
and they were judged to be at least equal in brilliancy and durability 
to those obtained from the best Bengal indigo. 
M. de Puymaurin has published an account of a process by which 
the inhabitants of the island of Corfu colour, with the leaves of the 
isatis, the woollen stuffs of which they make their clothing. The prac¬ 
tice with them is to cut the leaves when the plant is in flower, and, 
afler carefully drawing out all the nerves, to reduce them to paste in a 
mortar; this paste is dried in the sun, and when it is to be used for 
colouring, is placed in a bucket and moistened with water; the mixture 1 ' 
gradually heats and at length ferments strongly; water and a little 
weak ley of ashes is added, and the paste undergoes the putrid fer¬ 
mentation. Into this composition the cloth which is to be coloured is 
plunged, and allowed to remain eight days, turning it from time to 
time ; in this way it acquires a deep and lasting blue. The ease with 
which this process is executed would render it very useful in farmers’ 
families.— Chap tal. _ 
MOORS. 
In some of the counties of England, there are considerable tracts of 
low swampy land, called moors, which for ages was thought to be of 
very little value. Lincolnshire, especially, was almost half covered 
with these deep alluvian fens, the favorite haunts of aquatic birds and 
amphibious animals. The greater part of these moors have been drained 
and brought under the plough and hanow; and thus converted into 
some of the finest and richest lands in the kingdom. One method of 
draining as I was told, in Lincolnshire, where the ground will not ad¬ 
mit of any other, is by steam engines. The water which would other¬ 
wise accumulate in miry places, and prevent cultivation, is pumped up 
from one level to another, till it flows off in artificial channels, or is 
made to irrigate the higher grounds in the vicinity. 
We, in this country, have but just begun to find out that our low 
swampy lands are the most valuable lands we have. Thousands and 
thousands of acres, even in the oldest states of the Union, are at this 
moment worse than useless to the owners, when a little expense and 
trouble might make them yield the best hay and pasturage, and the rich¬ 
est harvests of any they possess. It is wonderful to see how our peo¬ 
ple will cling to the hills and knolls of their farms, year after year, till 
they have utterly worn them out, when they have the richest bottom 
lands within a stone’s throw, which have long since swallowed up the 
soil of all the high grounds in the vicinity, and which needs only to be 
drained and cultivated, to reward their owners a hundred fold. And 
how many thousand beds of rich vegetable manure are there, which 
the proprietors have never dreamed of, and from which they might, 
with very little expense, restore their exhausted uplands. How" la¬ 
mentable is it to see industrious families almost starving upon thirty or 
fifty acres of sand and gravel, when they might just go down into their 
own moors, and grow rich upon twenty acres.— Dr Humphrey's Tour. 
Young- Men’s Department. 
FROM A FATHER TO HIS SON.—No. YI. 
SOCIAL AND RELATIVE DUTIES. 
I mean the duties which every man owes to others and to society; 
and from the performance of which, from Christian or benevolent mo¬ 
tives, flows the purest and sweetest pleasures that fall to the lot of 
man. To do good unto others is not only a cardinal Christain duty, 
but it is a civil duty of the highest grade. It is a duty which blends it¬ 
self in all the concerns of life, from the performance of which no class 
is exempt, and which has an intimate bearing upon the good order and 
happiness of society. Were I to give an illustration of its best influ¬ 
ence upon society, in a collective body of men, I should point you to 
the society of Friends. As an entire class, they are probably more 
exemplary, in the performance of the social and relative duties of life, 
than any other class. 1 speak not of their religious tenets; but only 
of the influence which these appear to have upon their secular or worldly 
conduct. Their habits of industry, temperance, brotherly love and ge¬ 
neral benevolence, are worthy of high commendation, and of general 
imitation. 
To discharge these duties suitably, you ought to become impressed 
with the belief of their importance, resulting as well from a conscious¬ 
ness of duty, as from a conviction that your individual happiness de¬ 
pends, in a great measure, upon their performance. There is a mutual 
dependence upon each other among the various classes of society, like 
that of the members of the human body. The manufacturer depends 
upon the farmer and others for the sale of his fabrics, and the means 
of his subsistence. The mechanic and the professional man have a 
like dependence upon other classes; and the farmer, though most in¬ 
dependent, is greatly indebted to the other classes for his prosperity, 
and the social enjoyments of civilized society. Each class flourishes 
best when all classes flourish most. Hence every individual acts wisely, 
who endeavors to promote the prosperity of all. 
Let, therefore, no narrow-minded jealousy, or envious rivalship, de¬ 
ter you from the performance of a duty to a neighbor, or from rejoic¬ 
ing in the success of his honest labors—for you are in many ways bene- 
fitted by his success; but rather strive to commend him, by following 
his example in whatever is meritorious. A little pecuniary aid, the in¬ 
fluence of your own good conduct in economising time and money, and 
in practising the charities of life, and even a friendly and kind deport¬ 
ment, may effect much among your acquaintance, to preserve them from 
bad habits, and in rendering them useful and respectable in society. It 
is through the influence of individuals, thus exerted, that communities 
are elevated in their character and enjoyments. We may, by precept 
and example,—by affection and kindness, win men to good habits; but 
we can seldom induce them to adopt those habits by coercion, or by a 
cold repulsive demeanor. We must illustrate, in our own persons, their 
benign influence, if we would persuade men to practise the virtues 
which adorn life, and impart to human beings their highest felicity. 
The man who seeks to promote only the interest of self—who would 
make the labors of others tributary to his wants, without reciprocating 
the favor to society, in some way, is an insulated being, an alien in the 
human family, a stranger alike to the sympathies and enjoyments which 
were designed to elevate him in the scale of intelligent beings. 
EDUCATION OF FEMALES. 
The principle just stated explains very obviously the weariness, de¬ 
bility, and injury to health which invariably follow forced confinement 
to one position or to one limited variety of movement, as is often wit¬ 
nessed in the education of young females. Alternate contraction and 
relaxation, or, in other words, exercise of the muscles which support 
the trunk of the body, are the only means which, according to the Crea¬ 
tor’s laws, are conductive to muscular development, and by which bo¬ 
dily strength and vigor can be secured. Instead of promoting such ex¬ 
ercise, however, the prevailing system of female education places the 
muscles of the trunk, in particular, under the worst possible circum¬ 
stances, and renders their exercise nearly impossible. Left to its own 
weight, the body would fall to the ground, in obedience to the ordinary 
law of gravitation; in sitting and standing, therefore, as well as in 
walking, the position is preserved only by active muscular exertion. 
But if we confine ourselves one attitude, such as that of setting erect 
upon a chair—or, what is still worse, on benches without backs, as is 
the common practice in schools,—it is obvious that we place the mus¬ 
cles which support the spine and trunk in the very disadvantageous po- 
