after our old and constant practice, the employment of this precious plant, as a manure. It is certainly the most economical and conve. nient the farmer can employ. A small quantity of seed, costing very little, sows a large surface, and gives a great crop. When in flower, first roll, and then plough it in. Its shade, while growing, destroys all weeds; and itself, when buried, is soon converted into terreau. p. 117.

We should gladly multiply our extracts from this valuable work; did our limits permit; but we cannot conclude without directing the attention of our readers to the chapter upon fruit trees, from which we have room but for a single extract.

'Whichever of the two be adopted, the holes indicated in a former part of this section, must be made accordingly, and ought to be six feet wide, and as many long, and two feet deep. The advantages of these will abundantly repay the extra labour they require, as we find by M. Chalumeau's experiments on peach trees, from which we make the following extract:" Four peach trees, resembling each other as to size and vigour of growth, as much as possible, were planted: No. 1, in a hole three feet square; No. 2, in a hole two feet square; and Nos. 3 and 4, in holes eighteen inches square the soil and exposition similar. No. 1 has every year given the most abundant crops; and the relative sizes of the trees now, are as follows: the stem of No. 1, eighteen feet high, and eight inches in circumference; that of No. 2, nine feet high, and five and a half inches in circumference ; No. 3, six feet high, and three inches eight lines in circumference; and No. 4, five and a half feet high, and three inches in circumference." Here is a difference between the largest and smallest, of five inches in circumference, and twelve and a half feet in height; a most decisive proof of the advantages of trenching.'

[Note.] " The apple, the pear, and the cherry, occupying more room than the peach, require proportionate trenches.'-p. 143.

If proper attention was paid to the following suggestions upon the dairy, it would produce infinitely more effect in furnishing our market with good butter, than the awarding of silver cups.

'Observation has shown, that this secretion [cream] is much influenced by circumstances of weather, of aliment, and of age. A stormy day lessens its quantity, and alters its quality; bad or deficient food has a similar, but greater effect; and the fact is well known, that very young and very old cows give poor milk. Mild weather, on the other hand, promotes the secretion; and soft nourishing aliments, easy of digestion, and in sufficient quantity, make it redundant.

'A fact, established by the labours of Messrs. Deyeux and Parmentier, and long before known to the dairy-maid, is, that the milk first drawn is serous; that that which succeeds is less so; and that what are commonly called strippings, are nearly all cream.'-p. 161.

• What now remains, is, to employ the means necessary to its preservation. These are of two kinds: a small portion of common salt, well dried and pulverized, may be wrought into the mass, and distri

buted as equally as possible; or, the fresh mass subjected to a demifusion, will throw up a frothy and feculent matter, which must be carefully taken off; and which, if neither evaporated nor skimmed in this way, nor absorbed by the salt in the other, would produce the rancidity of which we have already spoken. The butter of Prevalais, the finest in Europe, is prepared after this last mode. The secret was long and well kept, but was at length divulged by M. Tessier, about the year 1809.'---p. 163.

We could dwell longer upon both these productions, if it were necessary; but, were our remarks extended to twice the length, the reader would still have cause to object, that too much was said of the one, and too little of the other. Indeed, it always must be so, when the merits of the one are a foil to those of the other; and there is no reason for a saving clause in this instance. To a turgid and redundant style, the author of the Volume has added by far too much confidence in the infallibility of his theories: and it seems to us, that the Board of Agriculture are not at all sensible of the quality of the persons for whom their memoirs are intended, if they expect that their complacency will be increased by the people's approbation of such matter, conveyed in such a manner. We recommend that the volume of the Board be read: its eloquence will amuse the unlearned; and the scientific tyro will, perhaps, perceive his zeal for his favourite pursuit to have received an additional impulse from its animated pages. To the learned institution from which it emanated, such a notice of it will also be a tribute of respect-a circumstance of no little importance; but we think it best adapted for a refreshing Sunday exercise, to be assumed when Jeremy Taylor, or Hugh Blair, begins to satiate: and to those who may be conscientious upon the subject, we offer the assurance, that its natural theology, if not so orthodox as that of Paley, is yet quite devotional, and taught, to the taste of some readers perhaps, in a more eloquent and captivating style. We cannot conceal the fact, that when we first took up this book, our sympathies were engaged by the animated and sprightly manner in which the author carried along his subject. We endeavoured to keep at the edge of the rapid current with which he swept us away, but constantly found ourselves either returning into the vortex, or thrown into the still waters of the adjacent eddy.

We before remarked, that this essay has merit-which, in taking our leave of the author, we will again repeat. Considered abstractedly as the production of a man of fortune, who valued more the poetry than the philosophy of science; having much leisure and some literary tact, a convenient study and good library; and who has volunteered his services, to awaken an interest in an occupation ennobled by every consideration that produces devotion

towards the Creator, and sympathy towards the creature; it is entitled to commendation, and the author to our acknowledgments, whatever may be its imperfections: but if the grave and deliberate members of the Board of Agriculture expect to find, under such auspices,

The flowers of truth in freshness start,
Where once the weeds of error grew,'

we must record our firm conviction, that they will find themselves greatly disappointed. In consideration of the author's apology, which we feel bound to respect, we have omitted to take notice of those violations of the rules of rhetoric which we often met with, such as the coining of new words, and misapplication of those in use; obscurity of expression and style, distorted analogies, tautology, and circumlocution, as well as the endless truisms which are constantly obtruded upon us : but, in case it should be thought proper to give it a second edition, which, however, we do not much expect, it is but fair to apprize the proprietor of the copy-right, that such imperfections exist, some of which are easily corrected. The "Treatise" is the production of a master, to whom the different branches of the subject are as familiar as the colours to the painter. Such works as this shed a lustre upon our country, and redeem it from that obloquy which a set of exotic witless pretenders have had no small share in drawing down upon it. There is no work upon the same subject, of indigenous production, at all to be compared with it in point of usefulness; and as a manual of agriculture, it has no superior in Europe, if it has an equal. We are surprised at the small compass in which the author has managed to embody so much of the experience and learning of the world; and we are equally surprised at the powers of discrimination, with which he has selected the pure metal from the loads of dross under which it is encumbered. Who can read this simple, unaffected, unpretending, perspicuous, manly narration of facts, and not understand it? Who can remark the nervous, comprehensive, and concise manner, in which the subject is treated, and not admire and enjoy it? Who is so ignorant as to be below its reach; who so learned as not to profit by it? If the agricultural interest of our country is to be promoted by books and pamphlets, it must be by such productions as this; and until we perceive evinced by the people of our state, a discrimination which can select them out, as their instructors, from the spurious productions, that depend for their consequence upon the formality and parade with which they are ushered into existence—we cannot recognize the dawn of a better state of things than now exists. We hope to see this book in the hands of every farmer, accompanying him to his labours; and its principles the subject of conversation at every club. Wishing well to its circulation, we suggest

to the publisher, whether, by reducing the price a little, he will not gain by the increased demand, what may be lost in the first charge. We hope to see shortly a second edition of it, and we recommend to the author an enlargement of his plan,-submitting for his consideration, the propriety of subjoining to his work a table of the expenses necessary to be incurred in the judicious cultivation of the different varieties of crops.

ART. III.--Damon and Pythias, a Tragedy, in five acts. By RICHARD SHIEL, Esq. author of the Apostate, &c. As performed in the Covent-Garden and New-York Theatres. NewYork: Murden & Thomson: 1821.

It is somewhat singular that this subject, so much known, and so generally interesting, should have been so long neglected by the dramatic poets. The story of Orestes and Pylades has been celebrated by the Grecian muse, and these devoted friends of a later age, are worthy of a similar commemoration. "Such high resolve and constancy" as are displayed in the history of these men, give a rare illustration of human nature; and as it shows the trust, the tenderness, and the faithfulness of a good man's heart, devoted to the proper object of these noble affections, it answers the highest purpose of example; which, whether it be offered in fiction or in fact, is most impressive as the exhibition of natural, yet exalted virtues. History supplies inexhaustible materials for the Drama, says Madame de Stael. Those who live in future ages must look far back for the subjects of dramatic invention. Sublime virtues grow out of extraordinary situations, and appear in all their elevating and imposing splendour, in opposition to an almost equal force of power, vainly directed to degrade and crush them. But in the happiest state of society, though the spirit of these virtues exists, it is not called forth in its strength, as it were in single combat,-it diffuses itself through the whole of life, and is expressed in the actions of every day. It must fail, therefore, of its highest glory, and of its grandest display; for, if there are no despots, there can be no patriot heroes-if there are no challenges, there can be no champions-if there are no persecutors, there can be no martyrs-if there are no outrages, there can be no voluntary sacrifices. The time is coming, and now is, when the system of life will be so regulated by the order of society, that the powers, the passions, and the adventures, which impart such a mighty interest to past time, to the state of unsettled laws, and undisciplined morals, can no longer operate in diverse and strange influence on the character and lives

of men. Who that is extensively acquainted with the Drama can deny that some of its best lessons, some of its most affecting exhibitions of man, are derived from a state of society and government which does not now, and which, it may be presumed, can never again exist? Who does not believe, that as the actions of men become subject to acknowledged principles, which create reciprocal checks, and limit the means of adventure, that the province of fiction must be consequently circumscribed? The precious records of primitive, or partially civilized society, must hereafter be the ground work of romantic fiction. The virtues and the vices, the passions and the enterprises, the motives and the intercourse of modern men, do not furnish occasions to the tragic muse. Not that the source of tears is drynot that innocence will no longer trust, and perfidy deceivenot that goodness cannot still suffer, and hypocrisy cannot prosper-or that injuries have ceased, and oppression is disarmed,but, when all this is done and felt, it is in the narrow walk of daily life, or in the scarcely ampler sphere of political intrigue: There are too many eyes open, too many minds informed, too many appeals to justice, too many asylums for the persecuted, too much interference, too much independence, to permit those temptations, dangers, deliverances and triumphs, which, in their progress, complication and results, form the great interest of tragedy.

The story of Damon and Pythias is in every school-boy's memory. But this, and a multitude of other touching examples of human feeling, never become less affecting by familiaritymuch as men love novelty, there are remarkable recollections that are consecrated in the heart, and no frequency of recurrence can make them uninteresting; and just so, the talent that represents the past may revive it a thousand times, with its original attractions. Upon this principle-the constancy of the human heart to its purest emotions-the tragedy of Damon and Pythias, wanting the charm of novelty in its principal incident, pleases; and, by perhaps the best criticism, a favourable sentence is pronounced upon it: It has been well received by the public. The fixed attention of a numerous audience, and their demonstrations of sympathetic grief and joy, are a kind of praise that may well confute the censures of the closet.

The prominent interest of this tragedy of Mr. Shiel, consists in the imminent peril of Pythias, in the distraction of Damon, and in the situation of both with respect to others deservedly dear to them. Calanthe, who is betrothed to Pythias, and Hermion, the wife of Damon, engage a large share of commiseration. The former is introduced as chiding her lover, just before their intended nuptials, for delaying to come to her as she expects. The manner in which she expresses her half-suppressed impatience at her lover's tar