by indulgence, and by having no loftier object to || and her rich and animated Spanish features glowed interest the feelings. In Stockholm this passion with pride and confidence as she listened to the adwould seem occasionally to degenerate into a rage miration of the house. It was genuine, and she which renders men incapable of appreciating what felt it; and continually, from that day forward, they hear, and makes them think and act like rose in the estimation of the public, till she stood in children Still, when the result of any taste is to Europe without a rival. Her sudden and lamented produce disinterestedness and generosity, we can- death in the midst of her fame, when public adminot withhold from it our praise. The listening to ration was at the highest, will long be looked back Jenny Lind soon became a pleasure of which the to with regret. good people of Stockholm could not voluntarily consent to be deprived, and therefore the wealthy bankers of the city conceived a plan by which they hoped to attach her permanently to her native place. They offered annually to deposit a considerable sum for ten years, by which time it would amount to a large fortune. But though touched by this mark of the respect and sympathy of her countrymen, the singer was urged by ambition to display her talents in the various capitals of Europe, and to gather laurels more valuable and enduring than the Stockholmers, with all their enthusiasm, could bestow.

We shall not attempt to accompany Jenny Lind on her peregrinations through Germany, or to copy the exaggerated style in which her performances there are spoken of. She visited Dresden, Berlin, and Vienna, and in the dominions of the King of Prussia displayed her powers before the Queen of England. What, perhaps, was far more flattering to her, Henrietta Sontag, now Countess de Rossi, pronounced her to be the first singer of the age. Compliments like these often mean nothing, and are taken for what they are worth. But we believe the Countess Rossi is an earnest and sincere woman, and, having herself been the wonder of her day, and enjoyed her full share of praise, may be supposed to have spoken frankly of one with whom she could have no rivalry.

To Mr. Alfred Bunn belongs the merit of having conceived the idea of bringing Jenny Lind to England. He entered into an engagement with her, which, as is well known, did not terminate fortunately. But into the details of their disagreement we shall not enter, since the people are already familiar with them.

The career of Jenny Lind in England was that which imparted completeness to her reputation. She herself felt that she had achieved nothing till she had charmed a British audience. Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna were forgotten in the blaze of London. Here her powers grew up to maturity, and here she took her leave of the stage. To describe the effect of her singing upon the public would be impossible. But they are altogether deceived who imagine it is unlike what has taken place before in the case of other singers. Madame Catalani excited, in her day, precisely the same kind of admiration; so also did Madame Pasta. The triumphs of Malibran, as more recent, will be better remembered. We were at the Opera House when this superb singer, the daughter of Garcia, made her debut, in company with her father, in the "Barber of Seville." The applause she excited was not very great, yet there were those present who, in the half-shrinking and timid girl, then foresaw what the woman would be. She was just sixteen,

When Madame Pasta performed, for example, in "Medea," it is impossible to exaggerate the pleasure she afforded to all true lovers of music or the drama. In singing she excelled all her contemporaries; in acting she equalled Mrs. Siddons, as far, at least, as the range of the opera enabled her to suggest a parallel. If in a certain sense she was less popular than Jenny Lind, it is to be accounted for by anything rather than the supposition of an inferiority. Madame Pasta was probably inferior to no one that ever sung, and her acting was incontestably superior to anything ever beheld on the opera boards. Yet in the voice and manner of Jenny Lind there is something more congenial to the taste and feelings of the English people. Her voice is altogether sui generis. Words convey no idea of tones and cadences, and cannot enable those to judge who have not themselves listened. Emotion has no lengthened vocabulary, and criticism exhausts itself in vain in the attempt to give permanence to those forms of art which are more fleeting than a summer cloud. In all other creations of genius, the type of the idea exists without the mind, and though it cannot suggest procisely the same conceptions to all, it remains to be appealed to and consulted by one generation after another. But the merit of a singer is an affair of testimony. You can embody it in nothing, not even in language. You express yourself pleased, gratified, intoxicated, if you will, with delight-when you have rung the changes a thousand times on this fact, the expression is all you have accomplished.

Connected with Jenny Lind's stay in England, there is, however, something else to be observedshe filled a larger space in the public mind than any other artist of any class whatsoever. In every society her name was mentioned. While the rage continued, you never went into company without hearing discussions of her merits, which were sometimes carried on with as much vehemence and anger as a theological controversy. Much of this is to be accounted for by vanity. Those who had heard Jenny Lind fancied themselves superior in some respects to those who had not, and it was thought a great distinction to have met her in private. We remember to have seen a Swedish author who, during his visit to London, chiefly attracted attention by the fact that he was acquainted, very slightly, perhaps, with Jenny Lind.

But this folly by no means touches the great singer herself, who seems to have preserved altogether the balance of her mind, and never to have been puffed up for a moment by what would have sufficed to ruin a thousand other performers. Numerous anecdotes are related to prove the kindness and goodness of her nature, but no one is more characteristic than the following, which, we

believe, has not been made public before :-During || she could not have afforded her half so much plea her visit to Bath, she happened to be walking sure. It was an act of noble charity of the tenderwith a friend, in front of some alms-houses, into|| est and most delicate kind. Money it would have one of which she entered, and sat down for a mo- been easy for her to give, and money, no doubt, she ment, ostensibly to rest herself, but in reality to did give; but to sit down in an alms-house, and find some excuse for doing an act of charity to there to call up the enchantments of her voice, for the old woman who lived in it, and whom she had the amusement of an obscure and poor old woman, seen feeble and tottering at the door. The old was a touching proof of goodness of heart, which woman, like the rest of her neighbours, was full of nothing we have heard of Jenny Lind surpasses. the Swedish Nightingale, whom she had heard was After this we could readily believe of her any act just then at Bath, entertaining with her voice all of gentle and affectionate kindness, and we would those who were so happy and fortunate as to be be glad to see collected, for the honour of art, all able to go to the theatre. "For myself," said the the numerous proofs of sympathy and charity which old woman, "I have lived a long time in the world, she has given during her residence in England. and desire nothing before I die but to hear Jenny It is a great thing to be universally admired. It Lind." "And would it make you happy?" in- is a still greater thing to be universally beloved, quired her visitor. "Ay, that it would," answered and we believe that the admiration of Jenny Lind's the old woman; "but such folks as I can't go to vocal powers, great and unrivalled as they are, is the play-house, and so I shall never hear her." second to the admiration of her moral qualities. "Don't be so sure of that," said the good-natured For this reason, we may be allowed to express a hope, Jenny; "sit down, my friend, and listen;" and that, though she has now left us for France, Eng forthwith she sang, with all her richest and most || land will be her future home. Her manners are glorious powers, one of the finest songs she knew. already those of an Englishwoman, and the analogy The poor old woman was beside herself with delight, between the Swedish character and the English when, after concluding her song, her kind visitor character is so great, that the transition from Stockobserved, Now, you have heard Jenny Lind." holm to London would scarcely be felt, except for If she had given the woman a hundred pounds, || the change of language.

EMPLOYMENT OR EMIGRATION.

THE question of employing the poor and unemployed || from so enormous an amount of capital judiciously labourers of the country in spade husbandry, is now managed. The whole labouring population, with the forcing itself on the consideration of wise and talented exception of the old and infirm, are capable of being men, in every district of the three kingdoms, and the so employed as to support themselves—individually, provincial and comparatively obscure advocates for at least-and such of them as are capable of any spade husbandry have therefore no small cause of ex- amount of labour (however insignificant) might, thereultation in the auspicious fact that Sir Robert Peel, fore, be so employed in the cultivation of the soil as and many others of our most able and patriotic states-to improve the amenity and salubrity of their respecmen, look upon the soil of our native land as the natu- tive districts, while adding permanently to their proral source for the relief and employment of the people.ductive resources. If it can be demonstrated that there is enough of land It is supposed by many patriotic and intelligent lying waste, or only in a half-cultivated state, to afford men, that the dishonesty of the labouring population, a field of profitable labour, not only to the unemployed, especially the Irish, whereby the employer is cheated but to the whole labourers of the three kingdoms, surely out of the work for which he pays, is an insurmount it is a reproach to our statesmen that no steps have able bar to the general cultivation of the soil by hitherto been taken to render such lands available for spade husbandry. I have improved as much land, by such a purpose; and all good men, who love their spade husbandry and Irish labourers, as any tenant in country, cannot but rejoice to see that the subject is the district in which my farms are situated; and I now under discussion in the Commons' House of Par-feel satisfied, that the greed whereby the employer, liament. By the present system of providing for the poor and the unemployed, millions of money are expended annually, at best, on a no higher object than merely that of preserving them in life, while it is reducing them gradually into a state of physical and mental weakness and deformity equally pitiful and revolting. With so legitimate a source for the employment of the people within reach of the Government and the legislature, it is a lamentable thing that so many millions should be annually provided by the country, for the use of the poor and unemployed, not one farthing of which is so vested as either to improve the condition of the people or to reproduce its own value, much less the profit that should be realised

generally speaking, sought to defraud the labourer of two days' work for one day's wages, preceded the dishonesty, whereby the labourer has learned to cheat the employer out of half a day's work while he is receiving a whole day's pay. Both parties have much need of turning a new leaf; but I am satisfied that the employer who organises his labourers on such principles as to be able to detect the laggard at his work-and every skilful practical farmer is able so to do-will get fair work for his money from Irish labourers, if he acts towards them on the golden rule of doing to them as he would that they should do unto him. But, if he treats them harshly and as eyeservants, and has his work so ill arranged that they

suppose a small crack or vein, from a height of 200 feet, and of only one inch in diameter, to open, suddenly, into this reservoir, and become filled with water, the mountain, from the pressure of this comparatively trifling weight of water, would be burst asunder with as great violence as if pressed by a weight of 5,022 tons of water.

may slim their labour or stand chatting and idle when|| his back is turned, without being detected, he need not expect a fair day's work. At the same time, I may observe, that I found no difference between the Scotch and Irish labourer in this respect. Neither will feel any interest in the work of a rough and selfish master, or—if they can avoid it-do more work for him than is necessary to earn their day's pay. My The extreme minuteness of particles of water was own system, therefore, was to do all my work by con- tested, by the confinement of a quantity of water in a tract. For instance, when trench-draining a field on globe of beaten gold, hermetically sealed; and then the plan to be afterwards mentioned, I used to set it applying to it a degree of pressure sufficient to crush to a jobber at £5 6s. 8d. per acre--which would en- in one of its sides. By this means, the particles of able him to pay his men 2s. per day when the day's water were pressed through the beaten gold, and bewages was only 1s. 6d.-paying him 6s. per week of dewed the outward surface of the whole vessel. The subsistence-money for each of his men during the per- other fact was proved by an experiment equally conformance of the work, and the balance when the job || vincing, but the description would occupy too much was completed. In this case, all that I had to attend space here. The power of pressure in water may, to was to see that the work should be done according however, be tested by means within the reach of every to the specification, and the jobber had the profit of farmer, viz.-insert a tube into the bunghole of a any increase he could take out of his men's work; cask, full of water, and by filling this tube, with water, but I would recommend, what I consider an improve- to a height (above the bunghole) proportioned to the ment on this plan, where the jobber does not himself di- strength of the cask, it will be burst asunder. vide his profits with his labourers. I would recommend, when a band of labourers are required for agricultural operations, that they should elect, from among them selves, their own overman; and, this being done, that the job should be let to the whole party. For instance, that they should receive £5 6s. Sd. per acre for trench-draining a field of, say forty acres, on the conditition of being paid 6s. per week of subsistencemoney, and the balance when the work should be finished. This would give them a pecuniary interest in the work, a habit of spending less than they earn; and, on the whole, have the effect of adding to their self-respect, to depress which has been the system of employers since feudalism and priestcraft have been introduced. The amount of their earnings would also, by this means, be made to depend on their attention to their work, and their industry; and I have felt a pleasure in seeing their satisfaction when a successful job was finished, and it was found that they had made 6d. a-day more than the current wages of men hired by the day.

The principles of farming which I recommend are, deep draining and deep tillage. That eminent agriculturist, Mr. Smith, of Deanstone, advocated (I wish I could say established) these principles in Scotland, as the very foundation of successful farming; but his system of carrying it into effect is comparatively faulty, as will be shown afterwards; but it is necessary, before describing my system of performing the work, to say a few words in reference to each of these essentials to proper cultivation of the soil, to meet the objections of old-fashioned farmers.

the

1.-Old-fashioned farmers object to deep drains, because they do not understand the force of pressure, and the extreme minuteness of the particles of water. When a reservoir of water, for instance, is formed in the bosom of a hill (and such is the cause and source of springs) it may be exploded with a violence resembling that of an earthquake, by the entrance of a mere thread of water into the already filled reservoir, through a vein or chink of the rock, from a higher level of the hill. Suppose, for instance, that there is, in the bosom of a mountain, a space of ten yards square, and half an inch deep, filled with water, and

When I was visiting a friend in Glenetine, some years since, the people of the locality were thrown into a state of consternation, by the bursting of an ava lanche out of the side of a mountain, which was deeply covered with snow at the time. For a considerable distance from the cavern, or rather corrie, left by the avalanche, in the side of the mountain, not only the snow, but the whole surface, was carried away to the margin of a deep ravine or gully, some five hundred paces farther down, and through which the river Etive passed; but to them, the most wonderful thing, if possible, was, that the snow and the soil disappeared, and that the avalanche of shattered rocks, sent forth by the mountain, and many of which were tons in weight, instead of being piled in the channel of the river, at the bottom of the ravine, were deposited on the face of the opposite hill-having been thrown, apparently, over a gully, of twenty paces deep, in their descent. My friend had an old shepherd, who had been in his service for fifty years, and whose sheepwalk required him to pass and repass the scene of the phenomenon daily. This man could not believe that the avalanche had not been the work of the GLASTIC, one of the most malevolent demons of Celtic mythology; and he was in the habit of crossing over a mountain and returning home by another glen (thereby performing a circuit of five miles) every evening, to avoid the haunted spot. His master, anxious to remove his terror, induced me to explain to him, that the mountain had been burst asunder by water, and that the snow and the soil, having been borne down the hill, in advance of the flood and the rocks, filled up the gully or ravine, and thus formed a temporary platform, over which the rocks, from the impetus of their descent, had rolled, until they were piled on the opposite side. He listened to me with apparent conviction; but, when I turned my back, observed to his companion, "Those gentlemen think we are fools. Doubtless, the avalanche was the work of the GLASTIC!" An intelligent and talented Ayrshire farmer made almost the same remark as to the estimate of the peasantry by gentlemen, on a paper of mine which was published in the Ayrshire and Renfrewshire Agriculturist, on pressure in water, two years ago; but, in

DUCED TO GLOBULES OR ATOMS, WILL NEVER AGAIN
RUN INTO A SOLID MASS.

spite of ignorance and prejudice, deep draining and [] from beneath, as well as from above. IT IS, THEREdeep tillage are making their way slowly, and giving|| FORE, WORTHY OF BELIEF, THAT SUBSOILS, WHEN THEY to many parts of the country a very different appearance. SHALL HAVE BEEN COMPLETELY BROKEN UP AND REIf water is poured into a tube resembling an U, no matter how wide the one limb and narrow the other, it will stand equally high in each. It is thus seen Having thus answered the objections to deep drainthat the degree of pressure in water does not depending and deep tillage, in a manner which will, I trust, on its bulk or weight, but on the height from which it descends to the surface, on which it presses. Hence the deeper the drain the greater will be the pressure of the water into it from the surrounding surface; and when air and water have been once admitted into the soil, they cannot afterwards be excluded, as is well known to brick and tile makers.

appear satisfactory to all intelligent practical farmers, I beg leave to make two brief remarks on Mr. Smith's system of draining and subsoiling before proceeding to the illustration of my own. Mr. Smith drains to the depth of about three feet, and subsoils only to the depth of 16 inches; but he covers the tiles with broken metal. Nevertheless, it is evident that there must thus be a layer of from 6 to 10 or 12 inches of a solid subsoil above the level even of the top of his drains on either side. Mr. Smith's object in subsoiling is to break up and reduce the subsoil so as to expose it to the atmosphere, and the passage and circulation of air and water. This object, therefore, is but very imper fectly accomplished by his plan of carrying it into effect. Nor is the soil reduced to globules or atoms, properly

2.-It has been proved by experiments, made and reported by many able and practical farmers, that crops throw down their feeders perpendicularly, or nearly so, in deep, well-cultivated soils; and horizontally, or nearly so, in thin, shallow, and ill-cultivated soils. Hence it is evident that in deep, well-cultivated soils, the feeders of the plants do not encroach upon or struggle with one another for their food, as they necessarily must in shallow soils; because each may find its required nou-speaking, by his system of subsoil ploughing, because the rishment in the soil which is immediately under itself. It has also been proved, by similar experiments, that cereal crops throw down their feeders to the depth of about 16, and potatoes, turnips, &c., to the depth of about 36 inches. It is, therefore, evident that money might be laid out more profitably by the greater number of our landed proprietors in adding to the depth and fertility of the lands they possess than in adding to the extent of their estates. It may be safely affirmed that the money necessary to purchase two acres would drain and deepen four, and that the quantity of arable land in the country which might|| thus be doubled in value is equal to 99 out of every 100 acres.

Many farmers are of opinion that subsoiling the land is throwing labour away, because it would again run into a solid body; but this is a great and a most injurious error. Mr. Smith, in answer to a question before the Committee on Agricultural Distress in 1836, observes, "I do not think it (the subsoil) would ever run together again in a solid form, because when it has been turned up, there is a constant circulation of air and water, which prevents its running together again; and where soil is laid in a dry position, and exposed to the atmosphere, it seems to get some sort of attractive quality. If you look at any mould, you will find that it is all in little globules, and these are gathered together in larger masses, forming large globules, which keep the soil open." Here we have the evidence of the most scientific practical farmer of his day, and that evidence is perfectly consistent with the discoveries of the geologist and agricultural chemist. That soils are composed of "globules" or atoms is an established fact; and as air and water are more subtle and insinuating than soils, and the latter (to use a rather technical term) has an affinity for the former, it follows that these globules or atoms will be suffused with, or surrounded by, air and water, when they are broken up and rendered accessable to their agency. "Nature," says the pedant," abhors a vacuum." Hence capillary attraction, the most wonderful and powerful agency employed in the nourishment of crops, and which operates, through the pores of the earth, plants, &c.,

subsoil is merely divided into solid strips of 7 or 8 inches square. It may also be remarked, that if subsoiling is to answer the purpose of rendering the soil pervious to the free passage and circulation of air and water, into either side of the drain, the heaping of broken stones, to the depth of from 6 to 12 inches, above the tiles, is, at best, only labour thrown away. These are the objec tions to Mr. Smith's system of carrying his own enlightened and scientific views of agricultural improvement into effect. It was necessary for me to point these imperfections out, in justifying the confi dence with which I recommend TRENCH-DRAINING as superior to Mr. Smith's plan, in every sense of the word-whether we contemplate present profit or permanent improvement. Mr. Smith's system of perform ing the operations, including draining to the depth of three feet, and ploughing and subsoiling, by dividing the subsoil merely into square furrows, to the depth of 16 inches, costs £4 10s. per acre. On my system, which will now be described, the land will be drained, to the depth of 33 inches, and trenched to the depth of 27 inches, by manual labour, at £5 6s. 8d. per acre, on a plan which enables the agriculturist to reduce the sterile subsoil to atoms, and to keep the better soil above it, all over the field, when he has not the means of mixing it with the materials necessary to fertilise and change its character. But in every case where such means are attainable, the subsoil should be fertilised to the depth of 27 inches, as the trenching proceeds.