at a very trifling expense, highly productive, is a circumstance too frequently overlooked by their proprietors. The various reports of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the condition and capabilities of these wastes, abound with details on this point: but these documents, from the form in which they have been published, are, unfortunately, much less accessible than they deserve to be made. Were they generally known, they would, we are certain, stimulate the Capitalists of England to engage in an enterprise which could not fail to yield much better interest for their money than any other speculation which has been hitherto recommended to the public. The engineers employed made twenty-five reports, respecting districts which they had carefully examined; and on the data thus furnished to them, the commissioners are enabled to assert, "that the extent of peat soil in Ireland exceeds two millions and a half of English acres; that of these, at least one million and a half consist of flat red bog, which, in the opinion of various persons conversant with the subject, might be converted to the general purposes of agriculture; and that the remainder, being upwards of a million, and forming the covering of mountains, might, as they think, be improved at a small expense for pasture, or still more beneficially applied to the purposes of planting."-Fourth Report on Bogs of Ireland, p. 11. This is a statement on which the reflective reader may well pause. The bogs of Ireland do not, as strangers too frequently imagine, consist of a dozen or a score of large morasses; on the contrary, a bog, which is known in that country under one denomination, will generally be found subdivided into an indefinite number of smaller bogs, each of them surrounded by high ridges of dry land. The bogs, for instance, which lie to the eastward of the Shannon, and which occupy a considerable portion of the King's county and the county of Kildare, are generally known by the name of the Bog of Allen. About the year 1800, Lord Dillon laid out a certain portion of red bog on his estate which he granted to his labourers for a term of years rent-free. This acted as a great stimulus to their exertions; they commenced by build. ing cabins on the driest part of the bog next the land already in tillage, and by cutting away the bog as fast as their means would permit. They have completely reclaimed ten or twelve acres, which, from being as bad and spongy as any bog in the country, now produces as good crops of potatoes, oats, and hay as any uplands in the neighbourhood.-Third Report on Bogs of Ireland, sprinkling of gravel was then laid on, and the ground was sown with cabbage-seed. In 1810 it produced a crop of potatoes. In 1811 it was laid down with fiorin strings, exactly in the way recommended by Dr. Richardson: the grass produced in that year, by this small piece of land, yielded no less than two tons of very excellent hay. About 1760, the late Mr. French, of Wood Lawn, commenced one of the most successful experiments which has been made in reclaiming Irish bogs; it has been continued and completely finished by his son, the present Lord Ashtown. The tract thus reclaimed, amounts to two hundred and ninetytwo acres; it was of the most impracticable character, being "a red bog, of a light, fuzzy substance, like a bed of tow, which would not burn in turf: it produced nothing but bog berries; a part of it so very wet, that the drains could not be cut, at first, wider than four feet and two spits deep.' By address and perseverance, this most unpromising spot was reclaimed at an expense, in draining and manuring, which did not amount to ten pounds per acre. This improvement has now stood the test of nearly seventy years: without any additional expense, it has become so firm in its texture, that a horseman may ride over it without sinking in the least, or leaving even a visible mark. Its present firmness, combined with the great depth of the soil, makes it the best land on the estate; and it is estimated to be worth at least two pounds per English acre. At Renville, in Connemara, a gentleman of the name of O'Flaherty has reclaimed a tract of bog land, to an extent of about one thousand acres. His plan was excellent, and deserves to be generally imitated. He removed the cottagers from the old stations which they had already brought into tillage, and where they had become too numerous, and settled them on the bog: this they reclaimed with potatoes and sea-weed, laying on it afterwards a coating of sand, carried from the sea-shore, and containing no calcareous matter. The effect of this treatment has rendered the whole highly productive. The instances of successful cultivation which we have adduced, ex medio acervo, are too well authenticated to admit of dispute. They are notorious to all the world. This subject is by far the most important which can engage the attention of a modern statesman. The internal economy of this nation has arrived at a momentous crisis, to which crisis, pregnant with alarming and unknown evils if neglected, or unskilfully dealt with, and with incalculable public advantages, if properly treated-we earnestly entreat the attention of the head of his Majesty's present cabinet. We are sure that he has sagacity enough to see it; and that * Young's Tour in Ireland, p. 232. he possesses sufficient firmness to turn it to account. The various changes which have taken place within the last twenty years, have placed at his disposal a host of able-bodied and willing labourers, more numerous than the legions whom he lately led to victory. Let him only open to this host a passage to the wastes and commons of the empire; let him only give them the space on which their toil may be productively bestowed, and we will boldly promise him a civil wreath, more brilliant and unfading than even the unrivalled glory with which military triumphs have encircled his brow. We shall advocate no plan which can, in any respect, injure the real interests of any of the parties who are now entitled to common rights. It is well known that the soil and minerals which lie under the surface of a common belong to the lord, while the scanty herbage above belongs to the different occupiers of the enclosed land lying within the precincts of the manor. No arrangement can be more injurious, either to the parties themselves or to the public. This common property operates as an effectual barrier against every attempt at improvement. The first step, therefore, towards the cultivation of these wastes, must be the separation of these interests. To effect this object, some tribunal ought to be created in every county; or such a power might be vested in some local authority already in existence. Any of the individuals interested in the cultivation of a waste, should be empowered to call upon the members composing this tribunal to act, and assign him, in severalty, a portion which they might consider equivalent to his interest in the waste. It would not, perhaps, prove in practice an inexpedient plan, that an allotment should be laid out for the lord, in lieu of his manorial rights, and that the remainder of the waste should be vested in the overseers of the poor, or some other body of trustees, as a property which, under proper restrictions, they might dispose of to the best bidder; the proceeds to be applied, in the first instance, towards the parish expensesand the surplus, if any should remain, to be paid over to the occupiers and owners, in the proportion of their respective interests. We have no ambition to be classed among theorists or inventors. This is precisely the system on which the heaths and wastes of Hanover have been reclaimed and brought under tillage within the last century. The first step was to make a survey of the whole of that territory. This was executed, with great care and fidelity, by a body of able engineers: a map was then constructed, upon the scale of a foot and a half to a German mile; it exhibited every stream, however inconsiderable; every species of soil; the heaths, the moveable sands, the marshy and boggy districts; and even the aspect of each tract, whether hilly or level, were all dis tinctly traced upon it. Having thus carefully ascertained the agricultural resources of the country, the government resolutely set about the task of rendering them available. The preliminary steps, which exceeded the means of individuals, were taken at the expense of government, wherever the wastes designed for improvement were the property of the state; and of the municipal bodies, wherever they were the property of communities. Roads were laid out in all directions: deep and wide trenches, dug across the turf bogs, opened a communication between their stagnant waters and the rivers. By this means alone, their surface became sufficiently firm to admit of tillage. These grand outlines of the plan having been completed at the general expense, the wastes were divided into allotments of various, though not of very great extent, in order to meet the capital and energy of their future cultivators. They were then either let on long leases, or sold in perpetuity, for the best rent or price which they could command; and the rent or purchase-money obtained for these allotments exceeded, we believe, in every instance, all that had been expended on the preliminary measures of improvement. Under the operation of this system has cultivation been pushed over the wastes of the Netherlands and Hanover. The sagacious agriculturists of Flanders confined themselves to small allotments, which did not exceed their means. These admirable culti vators not only added gradually to the extent of the soil which they tilled; every year the plough was made to go deeper; half an inch or an inch was thus gradually added to the depth of the land already in tillage; hence a fertile loam, eighteen inches or two feet deep, is now seen, where the farmer originally found a soil not exceeding three or four inches in depth. "To do a little constantly, and do that little well," has been the profitable maxim of the Fleming: by acting steadily on this invaluable principle, that industrious race have converted the most barren tract in Europe into the most productive land in the world. Within the last hundred years, many hundred acres have been brought under tillage in this country, but from being conducted on erroneous principles, many of these undertakings have miscarried. The eagerness of the undertakers have impelled then to aim at too much. The impatience of an ignorant or selfish occupier, eager for immediate profit, led, in too many instances, to a system of incessant cropping, that exhausted the virgin mould which nature had gradually formed. The temptation of five or six crops, obtained at little or no expense from a virgin soil, proved too strong for the self-denial or the discretion of the cultivator. He scourged the land, until he succeeded in completely exhausting its powers. Had these people acted upon the rational principles which experience points out; had they kept their Îand clean; adopted an ameliorating system of tillage, and made a green crop succeed a white one, the " poor soils" that have been prematurely forced into tillage, would have now exhibited a very different appearance. We again repeat, we advocate no plan which can, in any respect, injure the real interests of any of the parties entitled to common rights. The waste lands of this kingdom should be treated as a national domain, to be divided and allotted, as the demands of society for space and employment happen to increase. We are willing, on this question, to consider our unprofitable wastes as the peoples' farm-as property which the public have a right to lay hold of, paying to the interested individuals a full compensation for the common rights of which such a measure would deprive them. The community is entitled to address the proprietors of such lands in the following terms :-" Thousands of your fellow-countrymen are destitute of employment and food; you own thousands of acres of waste, which yield very little profit to you, but on which labour might enable them to raise the necessaries of life which they require. If you choose your selves to undertake the cultivation of these neglected lands, well and good; this will create an extra demand for labour, and afford to those persons the employment of which they are now destitute; but if you decline this task, which is become necessary on public grounds, the general good requires that the State should step in, and take from you this source of employment and wealth, which you think proper to overlook, giving you, at the same time, the most ample compensation for the rights and advantages which you are called upon to relinquish." We really cannot see how any rational individual could complain of such a proceeding; nor can we admit that the principle of private property ought to be pushed beyond this point. We cannot admit that any principle on which private property is founded entitles the owners of commons or wastes to say, 66 we will neither cultivate these wastes ourselves, nor will we allow others, desirous and able to undertake the task, to take possession of them for that purpose." Such a plan of providing employment and food for our surplus population is at least worth the experiment. It would be prudent to commence upon a small scale. Let the trial be made upon one waste; buy up the common rights and extinguish them; form all the roads and principal drains which may appear necessary; divide the waste into separate allotments of moderate dimensions, and put them up for sale to the highest bidder. Thus not only would an opening be made for the wealth of opulent speculators, but industrious farmers, and labourers of small capital, would be tempted to settle on these allotments. This method of reclaiming our waste land would tend very materially to regenerate, among the hard-working peasantry of our country, that spirit of honest independence, which the painful impossibility of obtaining small tracts of land has probably more than any other circumstance contributed to destroy. As the land of this country is now occupied, the agricultural peasant cannot hope-by his own industry, however unremitting-by his own economy, however rigid -to better essentially his condition: by these means he may, it is true, keep himself and his children from falling upon the parish; but by no efforts can he hope to escape from the class in which he was born, and to which both he and his offspring are almost inevitably doomed by the present arrangements of society. This is the real cause which has annihilated the class of "bold peasantry which once formed the glory as well as security of these realms. In our former, and what, in this respect, we consider our better days, the meanest and most destitute labourer might, by industry and frugality, aspire to the condition of a small farmer; and perseverance in the same path, which enabled him to save the capital required for the occupation of a small farm, put it in his power, or that of his son, to remove to a larger. This prospect, which animated the exertions-which sweetened the toils, and softened the privations-of the agricultural labourer of former times, conferred upon the whole class a tone of energy and manly independence, which, we grieve to say, a different system has all but extinguished. Deprived of every hope or chance of eluding the trammels of their present condition, it should excite no surprise that in morals and industry they have fallen below the agricultural peasantry of the preceding centuries. Let it once more be held out to them, that industry and frugality lead to independence, if not to wealth, and we have no fears for the result. It will be said that, in order to give effect to such a scheme, it is indispensable that those who engage in it should possess at least sufficient capital to build a cottage and support themselves until the produce of their respective allotments can become available; and that, from their thriftless and improvident habits, the classes for whose benefit the suggestion is principally thrown out, are utterly destitute of the means required for such a purpose. But what sort of logic is it to assume, that, because the labouring classes of this country effect no savings when no prospect of laying out savings to advantage offers itself, the same would be the case under more encouraging circumstances? Hold out to the labourer the expectation of an allotment of waste land, to be granted to him on the condition of paying a quit rent equal to its present value, and we feel persuaded such a blessed hope would engender in him the desire and the resolution of saving capital adequate to render his allot. ment available. Instead of squandering, as too many do now, for want of an object, their surplus earnings, they would treasure them up as the certain foundation of future comfort and independence. No one who has lived among country people can be ignorant of the reverence which they attach to the possession of "a bit of the land." Wordsworth's old Cumberland statesman says to his son, "I have been toiling more than seventy years, And there is hardly a ditcher, who would not feel a new heart stirring under his ribs, if he were told that by toil and sobriety he might pass into Michael's class and condition. The capitalists of this country, to whatever class they may belong, should be reminded that the cultivation of our wastes and commons is a question in which the interests of each individual among them are directly and deeply involved. Manorial and common rights have hitherto closed these wastes against industry. Hence capital, which would have yielded a larger profit to the owner, if laid out in the improvement of a waste, has been unnaturally forced into commerce and manufactures. By this means a double injury has been effected; the waste has remained in its unproductive state, and the commercial and manufacturing capital of the country, being unnaturally swelled by an accession which, but for the impediments to which we have alluded, would have found its way to the land, must, in consequence, yield to the capitalist a diminished profit. We are constantly in the habit of hearing the loudest complaints of the superabundance of capital, of the low rate of interest and profits, and of the difficulty of meeting with an advantageous investment for money. If the barriers, which now effectually prevent the capitalist from undertaking the improvement of our wastes, were removed, we are persuaded that this ground of complaint would be greatly diminished. Conveyed from a channel in which it now overflows, into another in which it is wanted, money would become more productive; whilst trade and manufactures would be made to yield a larger return of profit. In a word, it is our conviction that no class of persons are more deeply, more vitally interested in the improvement and tillage of our wastes, than the monied and commercial capitalists of the empire. By opening a new field and a most extensive field-for speculation, it would produce an advance in the interest of money; increase the income of every man who possessed a pound, which he might embark in such an enterprise, or lend to another person for such a purpose; relieve the manufacturer and trader from the injurious competition to which an excessive supply of capital now exposes them; and raise up, in the cultivators of waste lands, a new race of customers for the commodities which either of these parties might bring to market. THE WINTER CRUISE. A TALE. Ireland is A CUSTOM exists among the smugglers and fishermen, in the towns and villages on the Kentish coast, of engaging with shipowners residing there for the perilous adventures of a cruise to effect the landing of contraband goods on some distant shore. chiefly the course these expeditions are bound for; and many a smuggler's wife, while listening to the dashing of the rough waves on the shore of her home, and the loud winds blowing harmlessly over the roof of her dwelling, has breathed a prayer that the same storm may be landing her husband's cargo in safety on some unguarded beach, or filling the sheets of his good ship in eluding the pursuit of a revenue cutter. These outfits are invariably made on the approach of November, and are denominated "The Winter Cruise." The vessels are the property of individuals who have realized considerable sums in these speculations, and a fortune is frequently embarked in one vessel. The smuggler looks forward to the success of these adventures with sanguine hopes and beating heart; and, while lamenting over past favours, prays for future good luck, which, if but moderate, makes him comfortable for life. During the absence of the men, their wives are allowed by the proprietors of the vessels a weekly stipend, sufficient for their maintenance; but, on the arrival of disastrous news, the payments are discontinued. Many a hard hand has been softened by the tears mutually shed at the departure for the Winter Cruise; and many a young wife has seen all that she loved launched on the ocean, to sleep in its bosom for ever. A mother, while bestowing her best wishes for a son's success, and endeavouring to smile away her apprehensions of what might befal, has looked upon him for the last time; he has departed-hoping much, fearing little-never more to be seen or heard of. Folkstone, the scene of this tale, is only relieved by the hereditary good-nature of the inhabitants from a prevailing melancholy, which every where presents itself, as bereaved mothers are pointed out to you, and widowed homes marked in every street. It was late one night in the month of January, when the flower of the young men of Folkstone were absent on the Winter Cruise, that four women were seated round a sea-coal fire, listening to the heavy rain falling in the street, and the scolding wind as it echoed and rumbled in the chimney of the warm fire-place. One of the party-from her occupying the low-seated patchwork-covered chair, and the peculiar attention paid to her by an indolent cat, who stretched, and purred, and quivered her nervous tail, while peering sleepily in her protector's face-appeared to be the mistress of the house: she was a young woman, about five-and-twenty, with all the happy prettiness of a country beauty-albeit an indulged grief had thrown a pale tinge over the clear red that still shone in her cheek, as if struggling for mastery with an intruding enemy. Her features, though somewhat irregular, if but carelessly viewed, failed not to secure the beholder's stedfast observance, from the peculiar interest which a full blue eye and light arched brow lent to the contour. She was resting her face upon her hand, and looking at the red coals in the stove before her ;-the others seemed to have just concluded a bit of country scandal, or the success of the sale of a secreted tub of Hollands, from the pursingup of their lips, and the satisfaction with which each appeared to lean back in her chair. "There," said the young woman, "in that very hollow of the fire, I can almost fancy I see my James on the deck of the Mary, looking through his glass to catch a glimpse of some distant sail. Ah! now it has fallen in, and all looks like a rough sea. -Poor fellow !" This was spoken in that abstracted tone of voice, that monotonous sound of melancholy, where every word is given in one note, as if the speaker had not the spirit, or even wish, to vary the sound. "That's what I so repeatedly tell you of," said a fat old woman of the 66 group; you will have no other thought; morning and night hear but the same cry from you. Look at me-is'n't it fifteen years ago since my William, rest his soul, was shot dead while running his boat ashore on Romney Marsh? and am I any the worse for it? I loved him dearly; and when I was told of the bad news, I did nothing but cry for whole days; but then it was soon over-I knew that fretting would'nt set him on his legs again so I made the best of a bad berth, and thought, if I should have another husband, all well and good; if not-why, I must live and die Widow Major and there was an end of it." "Ah! neighbour," replied the young woman, you knew the fate of your hus 66 band-you were acquainted with the worst→ you had not to live in the cruel suspense I endure; but if I knew that he was dead(and her voice grew louder, while the blood rushed into her fair cheek)-I should think of him as much as I do now, and would think and think, and try to bring thoughts every day heavier on my heart, till it sunk into the grave." "How fast it rains!" ejaculated a shrivelled old woman, who had hitherto remained silent. "How fast it rains!"-and she drew her chair closer to the fire." It was just such a night as this when What's that-the wind? Ah! 'tis a rough night I suppose it must be near eleven o'clock. Now, I'll tell you a story that shall make you cold as stones, though you crowd ever so close to this blazing fire. It was just such a night as this "Gracious Heaven!" cried Susan, “I hear a footfall coming down the street so like that which I knew so well-listen !—No, all is silent.-Well, Margery, what were you going to tell us ?" "Eh! bless us!" replied Margery, "you tremble terrible bad, surely; what's the matter?" it was "Nothing-nothing, dame ;-go on." "Well," said the old woman, just such a night as this 99 "Susan!" cried a voice at the door, in that tone which implies haste, and a fear of being heard-" Susan! open the door." "Good God," shrieked Susan," that voice!"-and all the women rose at one moment, and stood staring at the door, which Susan was unlocking. "The key won't turn the lock-'tis rusty ;-who 's there?" she breathlessly exclaimed, as in the agony of suspense she tried to turn the key, while the big drops stood quivering on her brow. She trembled from head to foot-her companions stood like statues-the lock flew back, the door opened-nothing was seen but the black night, and the large drops of rain which sparkled in the beams of the candle on the table." There is no one," said she, panting for breath; "but as I stand here a living woman, 'twas his voice. James! James !" she cried, and put out her head to listen. She heard quick, heavy footsteps hastily advancing at the end of the street: presently a party of six or seven blockade-men rushed by the door, dashing the wet from the pavement in Susan's face. They passed with no other sound than that made by their feet, and were quickly out of hearing. "I wish I may die," said old Margery, "but the blockade-men are chasing some poor fellow who has been obliged to drop his tubs; for I saw the blade of a cutlass flash in my eyes, though I couldn't see the hand that held it." "My bonnet! my bonnet !" cried Susan; |