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4 by Charles Buche 2. L

This discrepancy between our notions of time when we are asleep and when we are awake may be very easily explained. The idea of time is only an idea of so many successions of events, or of ideas, whether called up by these events or otherwise. On looking back through any period of our mental history, if we remember many feelings that have succeeded the one to the other, we have the idea of a long time; if few, of a short one. Now ideas are remembered in proportion as they are interesting or vivid. In the waking state and in sleep the same ideas would pass before the mind during the same time; but in the waking state they would be viewed as ideas only, and the greater number would not be remembered. But in sleep they are believed to be sensations, the events thought of are believed actually to take place, and the ideas thus become interesting to such a degree that they cannot be forgotten. Looking back through these ideas, and remembering every one of them, we judge the time during which they have passed before the mind to have been a long time.

and spent a fortnight in America. In embarking on his | call imperfect. One of these writers is Mr. I ocke, who has return, he fell into the sea; and having awaked with the expressed a very decided opinion that during sleep we fright, discovered that he had not been asleep above ten do not always think; his arguments in favour of the minutes.' opinion being, that all of us are conscious of having no dreams during a considerable portion of the time that we sleep, that some persons even do not dream at all, and that a supposition that the dreams are forgotten almost the very moment after they have taken place is absurd. (Essay on the Human Understanding, 2, i. sec. ii.) If however we do not dream always, how is the beginning of our dreams accounted for? The mind is, on this supposition, at a particular period of sleep, void of ideas; an idea suddenly enters it, and dreaming begins. Now the idea was not called up by an idea antecedent to it, for antecedently there was no idea in the mind. How then did it come to enter the mind? This consideration appears to us adequate to set the question at rest as to whether we dream always or not. Dreaming always, we may remember or forget our dreams according to whether our sleep is deep or slight, and remember them in proportion as it is not deep. One part of the same fit of sleep is more intense than another; the dreamer remembers the dreams of this last part, but forgets those of the first, as regards which it is the same as if he had not dreamt at all. In one state of health the same person has a greater amount of deep sleep than in another; he in consequence remembers his dreams better, or (as he would most probably express it) he dreams more in the second state of health than in the first. Again, one person's bodily constitution is such as to make his sleep generally more intense than that of another person, and in consequence he is less of a dreamer. There have been instances of persons who do not remember ever to have dreamed, and of others who have not remembered any dreams until at a very advanced period of life.

4. It remains to speak of the absence of surprise in dreams. It is not indeed true that the feeling of surprise is altogether absent from dreams, as is generally asserted; while in those cases in which it is absent, and in which its absence is thought worthy of remark, the explanation is simple. In our dreams we believe that we see persons who are either dead or in a distant country, and we are not surprised; we believe that we witness events which happened a very long time ago, and we are not surprised. Now we have the ideas of the persons and events, and we have not at the same time the ideas of the death or the distant country or the distant time at which the event took place; having the ideas of the persons and events, we believe these ideas, as has been already explained, to be sensations; and as we have not, together with the apparent sensations, the ideas of the death, distant country, &c., we have no ideas with which the apparent sensations are incongruous; and there being no incongruity, there is nothing to surprise us. We think of the persons or events, as we might think of them when awake, without certain additional ideas; and not having these additional ideas, we are not surprised at seeing, or believing that we see, the persons or events, any more than we should be surprised at seeing (could we by possibility do so) the same persons or events when we were awake, if we knew not that the person had died or was in another country, or that the event was one of history. This explanation is confirmed by those instances in which we do feel surprise. The idea of a person or event believed to be seen may call up any of the additional ideas that have before been absent. We believe that we see a person, and we then think of his death; we are immediately surprised; and we dream that we are dreaming. Every one who has dreamed must have experienced such a dream as this. II. This second part of the article was to contain so much of the little that is known concerning the state of the body in sleep as is relevant to the subject of dreams.

The organs of the five external senses are so affected by sleep, that the sensations which respectively pertain to them are either not felt at all, or are felt very much less often, and very much less, than when we are awake, and even when they are felt they generally awake us. But of this we have already spoken.

We have also spoken of the effects of sensations of bodily pain and of internal sensations on dreams. The manner in which sickness, through the medium of internal sensations, intensifies dreams, is familiar to every one.

It is a question whether sleep operates on the mind as well as on the body; whether, while it suspends the action of the body, it also, either through the body or otherwise, suspends the action of the mind. This is a question on which we cannot speak positively, and on which our opinion can be determined only by the greater probability of the one side or of the other.

Some writers assert that we do not always dream when we are asleep. They say that the proper effect of sleep is to suspend the action of the mind as well as of the body, and that, to the extent to which we dream, sleep is impaired. They speak of two kinds of sleep, the one in which we do not dream, and which they call perfect sleep; the other, in which we dream, and which they

III. As regards the instances of dreams which we propose to relate, there are three possible cases; they are either untrue, or true and explainable by ordinary or natural means, or else true and not so explainable, and therefore (in the common phrase) supernatural. Now these instances are so far authenticated, that we are not authorized altogether to discredit them. Not discrediting them, we are yet unable to explain them by the ordinary means; though it is possible, certainly, that as the dreams and their attendant circumstances come to us, there may be both some exaggeration in the dreams themselves, and some omission of incidents previous to the occurrence of the dreams which might help to explain the attendant circumstances. On the other hand, the instances (and we are about to give merely a selection) are numerous. And again, there is another set of incidents, also well authenticated, which, like these instances of dreams, are, if we believe them as they are related, unsusceptible of explanation by ordinary or natural means. We refer to the many stories told of the appearance of persons, at the moment of death, to friends or relations at a distance from the spot where the death takes place. Now these incidents pave the way to some extent for a belief in the supernatural character of such dreams as we are about to relate. If these incidents are believed to be supernatural, there is no reason why there should not also be supernatural dreams. We must observe however that in calling either the incidents to which we have referred or the dreams supernatural, we mean no more than that they cannot be explained by natural means. cannot say how they were brought about; neither can we say, looking at the particular circumstances under which they happened and the particular persons to whom they happened, why they were brought about.

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The first instance that we give is of a dream which occurred to a gentleman now alive, and which was related by him to members of his family who are also now alive, and to other persons, on the day after he dreamt it, and before the event which he seems to have foreseen in his dream was known. We extract the account of the dream, making some immaterial alterations, from a book called the Royal Book of Dreams,' in which it is given with the greatest particularity. In the night of the 11th of May, 1812, Mr. Williams, of Scorrior House, near Redruth, in Cornwall, awoke his wife, and, exceedingly agitated, told her that he had dreamt that he was in the lobby of the House of Commons, and saw a man shoot with a pistol a gentleman who had just entered the lobby, who was said to be the chancellor; to which Mrs. W. replied that it was only a dream, and recommended him to go to sleep as soon

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as he could. He did so; but shortly after he again awoke her, and said that he had, a second time, had the same dream. The same vision was repeated a third time; on which, notwithstanding his wife's entreaties that he would lie quiet and endeavour to forget it, he arose (then between one and two o'clock) and dressed himself. At breakfast the dreams were the sole subject of conversation; and in the forenoon Mr. W. went to Falmouth, where he related the particulars of them to all of his acquaintance that he met. On the following day, Mr. Tucker, of Trematon Castle, accompanied by his wife, a daughter of Mr. W., went to Scorrior House on a visit. Mr. W. related to Mr. T. the circumstance of his dreams; on which Mr. T. observed that it would do very well for a dream to have the chancellor in the lobby of the House of Commons, but that he would not be found there in reality. Mr. T. then asked what sort of a man he appeared to be, when Mr. W. described him minutely. Mr. T. replied, "Your description is not at all that of the chancellor, but is very exactly that of Mr. Perceval, the chancellor of the exchequer." He then inquired whether Mr. W. had ever seen Mr. Perceval, and was told that he had never seen him, nor had ever had anything to do with him; and further, that he had never been in the House of Commons in his life. At this moment they heard a horse gallop to the door of the house; and immediately after a son of Mr. Williams entered the room, and said that he had galloped out from Truro, having seen a gentleman there who had come by that evening's mail from town, and who had been in the lobby of the House of Commons on the evening of the 11th, when a man called Bellingham had shot Mr. Perceval. After the astonishment which this intelligence created had a little subsided, Mr. W. described most minutely the appearance and dress of the man that he saw in his dream fire the pistol at the chancellor, as also of the chancellor. About six weeks after, Mr. W. having business in town, went, accompanied by a friend, to the House of Commons, where, as has been already observed, he had never before been. Immediately that he came to the steps at the entrance of the lobby, he said, “This place is as distinctly within my recollection, in my dream, as any room in my house;" and he made the same observation when he entered the lobby. He then pointed out the exact spot where Bellingham stood when he fired, and which Mr. Perceval had reached when he was struck by the ball, where he fell. The dress both of Mr. Perceval and Bellingham agreed with the description given by Mr. W., even to the most minute particulars.' This dream is related also by Dr. Abercrombie (p. 300), with a slight variation as to the time that elapsed between the dream and the announcement of the event, and with some additional circumstances.

The two following are among many instances mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, who vouches for their truth. A Scotch clergyman, who lived near Edinburgh, dreamt one night, while on a visit in that town, that he saw a fire, and one of his children in the midst of it. On awaking, he instantly got up and returned home with the greatest speed. He found his house on fire, and was just in time to assist in saving one of his children, who in the alarm had been left in a place of danger. Two sisters had been for some days attending a sick brother, and one of them had borrowed a watch from a friend, her own being under repair. The sisters were sleeping together in a room communicating with that of their brother, when the elder awoke in a state of great agitation, and roused the other to tell her that she had had a frightful dream. I dreamt,' she said, that Mary's watch stopped; and that when I told you of the circumstance, you replied, "Much worse than that has happened; for 's breath has stopped also,"-naming their sick brother. The watch, however, was found to be going correctly, and the brother was sleeping quietly. The dream recurred the next night; and on the following morning, one of the sisters having occasion to seal a note, went to get the watch from a writing-desk in which she had deposited it, when she found that it had stopped. She rushed into her brother's room in alarm, remembering the dream, and found that he had been suddenly seized with a fit of suffocation, and had expired. (Abercrombie's Intellectual Powers, pp. 289-302.)

The following is written in the fly-leaf of an old copy of Cotton's Concordance, belonging to a friend of the writer of this article. Its circumstantial manner of narration entitles it to belief; and the prediction of the beheading of Charles

P. C., No. 549.

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I. and of the fire to the old woman is no more extraordinary than that of the death of Mr. Perceval to a gentleman who had never seen him, and was in no way connected with him. It is signed Richard Fiennes, to whom, it is to be presumed, the Concordance once belonged; and it is dated September 14th, 1666, the year of the fire of London. In the yeare 1653, on the 26th day of May, Mr. Fortescue of Ware, in the county of Devon, a person of greate honoure and sobriety, told me at Heanton in the said county, in the presence of my nephew, Roll, and other gentlemen of quality, that there was a woman of his knowledge, that was then living, that many yeares before the warres had a vision of them, and of the king's beheading, and amongst many other particulars, of the destruction of London. This I writt down in my Almanack for the yeare 1653, the same day it was told me with Avertat Deus under it; but it hath pleased God that for our sinne London is allsoe now consumed. I pray God we may all receive instruction by it.'

We shall conclude these instances with an account of two concurrent dreams furnished by Dr. Abercrombie, which were not, like those we have already given, followed by the event on which they are said to have turned, but of which the coincidence is very extraordinary. A young man, who was at an academy a hundred miles from home, dreamt that he went to his father's house in the night, tried the front-door, but found it locked; got in by a back-door, and, finding nobody out of bed, went directly to the bed-room of his parents. He then said to his mother, whom he found awake, "Mother, I am going a long journey and am come to bid you good bye." On this, she answered under much agitation, "Oh dear son, thou art dead!" He instantly awoke, and thought no more of his dream, until a few days after, he received a letter from his father, inquiring very anxiously after his health, in consequence of a frightful dream his mother had on the same night in which the dream now mentioned occurred to him. She dreamt that she heard some one attempt to open the front-door, then go to the back-door, and at last come into her bed-room. She then saw it was her son, who came to the side of her bed, and said, "Mother, I am going a long journey and I am come to bid you good bye;" on which she exclaimed, “Oh dear son, thou art dead!" But nothing unusual happened to either of the parties.' (p. 295.)

Instances of such dreams as these have been related in all times. The dream of Cæsar's wife, Calpurnia, the night before the assassination (Sueton. Cæsar, 81), is such an instance.

There are many dreams recorded both in the Old and the New Testament, which, together with the attendant circumstances, rest on very strong historical evidence, resembling the instances occurring in what is called profane history; and a supernatural agency being admitted in them, there is no reason why it should not exist also in other instances of dreams. For when once we allow the inadequacy of natural means for the explanation of a particular phenomenon, we cannot stop where we please, and say there is a reason why supernatural causes should have operated in this case, but there is none why they should have operated in that. In speaking of supernatural causes or of supernatural agency, phrases to which we attach no definite posi tive meaning, and which we can only explain negatively, we confess our inability to account for the manner in which an event or events came to pass; and if unable to account for the manner, we cannot take upon ourselves to explain the reason of the occurrence.

The supernatural interpositions to which, in our difficulty, we resort for aid, must, if they exist, be determined by general laws, which in the course of time it either may or may not be given to men to know. At present we see only the particular interpositions, particular events belonging to another system, which we call supernatural, which is governed, however, doubtless, like our own or the natural system, by general laws, and which moves perhaps co-ordinately with this to a common end; and knowing not the laws of that system, nor the connexion between it and our own, we can do no more at present than record the particular instances. It is certainly not philosophical to refer each particular interposition to a particular providence, as is done by Bishop Bull in his sermon concerning the Holy Office of Angels;' but in an admission of our own ignorance, combined with an opinion that the interposi tions (as they are called) are regulated by general laws, there seems to be nothing to be objected to.

VOL. IX.-U

London Published by Charles Knight. 22. Ludaste-streetFwe try Witam Clowes and Sera, Stamford-street

ings), a part of the town once an unproductive waste, and first laid out as gardens by some Bohemian gardeners, who settled here in 1730, but the site of which is becoming gradually occupied by handsome residences. It contains a playhouse and baths, a house of industry, schools for the indigent and for the garrison of Dresden, and a spacious cemetery. The house for the reception of bodies of unknown persons has been lately decorated with the Dance of Death, a rude sculpture in stone containing 24 figures.

In the list of public establishments not hitherto noticed are a High School (the Kreutz-schule,) conducted by 12 masters, and attended by about 400 pupils; two schools for teachers, in which the deaf and dumb are taught; 23 free and elementary schools for about 3000 Protestant children; an asylum for the reformation of depraved children; three infant schools; several public schools for the children of the townsmen; the Schmalz foundation for educating poor children; and a public school for girls. Dresden contains altogether 71 establishments for Protestant education. The Catholics have a High School, the Josephina Foundation, for the education of the superior class of females, two ordinary schools, a free school, and a school for educating 12 soldiers' children, attached to the latter. To these should be added the Free Masons' School (with about 100 children) and a Veterinary School. The number of institutions for the sick and maimed and orphans is eight, including three hospitals. There are a variety of learned and other societies, the chief of which are the Academy of Arts, the Society of Economy, which promotes the various interests connected with Saxon industry, the Mineralogical, the Natural History and Medical, the Bible, the Missionary, and the Saxon Antiquities Societies. The number of benevolent institutions and societies of all descriptions is 78.

Dresden has no external trade or manufactures of much importance. It is a place of transit for colonial and other foreign produce from Magdeburg, Hamburg, &c., and has five general fairs, besides a yearly fair in June, at which a considerable quantity of wool is sold. Its mechanics have obtained some note in Germany for the manufacture of mathematical, mechanical, and musical instruments, engraving on steel and stone, the making of gloves, carpets, turnery ware, jewellery, straw hats, painters' colours, &c. These mechanics are incorporated into 60 fraternities. Morocco and other leather, refined sugar, tobacco, white lead, tin ware, glass, stockings, cotton goods, &c. are also manufactured, but not on an extensive scale. There is a foundry for bomb-shells and cannon, and a yearly exhibition of Saxon manufactures. The municipal expenses of the town are about 49,000 dollars (69007.) a year.

The immediate vicinity of Dresden abounds in places of public resort, and its environs are full of attractions for strangers, among which we may notice the villages of Lochwitz, Kreischa, and Dohna, the scenery called the Schlottwitzer, and Plauische Grund, the antient burg of Tharant, the vale of Seifersdorf, the Saxon Switzerland, Pillnitz, with its summer palace, and the village of Schandau. DREUX, a town in France, the chief place of an arrondissement in the department of Eure et Loir. It is on the river Blaise, a tributary of the Eure, 41 miles from Paris, in a straight line west by south, or 50 miles by the road through Versailles and Houdan; in 48° 43' Ñ. lat., and 1° 21' E. long. It is on the great western road to Alençon, Laval, Rennes, St. Brieuc, and Brest.

Dreux was known under the Romans by the name Durocasses, and appears to have been included in the territories of the Carnutes. From Durocasses the name was contracted into Drocæ, from which the modern form Dreux is derived. The town with the surrounding district, forming the county of Dreux, was included in the acquisitions made by the Northmen or Normans in France, but was early taken from them, and became part of the domain of the French crown. It continued, after several changes, to be held by a remote branch of the Bourbon family up to the time (we believe) of the French Revolution. In December, 1562, a severe action was fought in the plain of Dreux, between the rivers Eure and Blaise, between the royal Catholic army under the Constable Montmorency and the army of the Calvinists under the prince of Condé and the Admiral Coligny. The Calvinists were defeated, and the prince of Condé taken prisoner. In A.D. 1593, Dreux, which was in the possession of the party of the League, was taken by Henri IV. after a vigorous resistance of 15 or 18 days.

The town, which is in a pleasant country, is traversed by

the Blaise. On a hill which commands the town are the remains of the antient castle of the counts of Dreux: in the midst of these ruins rises the new chapel built on the site of a former collegiate church by the late duchess dowager of Orléans. The houses of the town are partly of brick, partly of wood, and partly of plaster: there is a small promenade, an alley of trees planted along the river, and called Boulevart. The town-hall is a Gothic building; and there is, beside the chapel mentioned above, a parish church, also Gothic: before the Revolution there were two parish churches. The population, in 1832, was 5166 for the town, or 6249 for the whole commune. The inhabitants manufacture serges, blankets, hosiery, and other woollen goods, hats, and leather: there are tan-mills and dye-houses: beside the articles which they manufacture, they carry on trade in sheep and cattle. There are three fairs in the year. There is a good hospital and a high school. The arrondissement of Dreux had, in 1832, a population of 70,532. DRIFFIELD. [YORKSHIRE.]

DRILL, the course of instruction in which the soldier is taught the use of arms and the practice of military evolutions.

DRILL HUSBANDRY. [DRILLING.]

DRILLING is a mode of sowing by which the seed is deposited in regular equidistant rows, at such a depth as each kind requires for its most perfect vegetation. It has been practised by gardeners from time immemorial, and from the garden it has gradually extended to the field. In those countries where maize or Indian corn is extensively cultivated the seed is always deposited in rows; and during the growth of the plants the soil in the intervals is repeatedly hoed and stirred to a considerable depth, as is likewise the practice in vineyards. This cultivation not only keeps the land free from weeds, but by allowing the dews and the influence of the atmosphere to penetrate into the earth, greatly encourages the vegetation and growth of the plants.

It was no doubt from observing the effect produced by stirring the soil that Jethro Tull and his followers adopted the theory, that finely-divided earth formed the chief food of plants; and this led to the adoption of the row culture for every species of plant, and horse-hoeing the intervals, from which the practice obtained the name of the horsehoeing husbandry. This was at one time thought so important a discovery as to be called the new husbandry, which was expected by its most zealous supporters entirely to supersede the old methods.

The system of Tull has been long proved to have been founded on erroneous principles. Tull himself was ruined by his experiment; and his warmest admirers, Du Hamel, Du Monceau, and De Châteauvieu, were forced to admit its fallacy, after having suffered considerable loss by adopting its practice. But the advantage of sowing the seed in rows or drills has stood the test of experience; and the drill husbandry, by combining the advantages of continued tillage with those of manure and a judicious rotation of crops, is a decided improvement on the old methods of sowing all seeds broad-cast. The crops which are now most generally drilled are potatoes, turnips, beans, peas, beet-root, coleseed, and carrots; and in general all plants which require room to spread, whether above or under the ground. The distance between the rows in these crops is generally such as to allow the use of a light plough or horse-hoe to be drawn by a horse between them without endangering the growing plants. The most common distance is twenty-seven inches, where the row culture is practised in its greatest perfection, which is in the north of England and in Scotland. The Northumberland mode of cultivating turnips, which is adopted by most scientific farmers, and seems to have decided advantages, consists in placing the manure in rows immediately under the line in which the seed is to be drilled, and keeping the intervals in a mellow and pulverized state by repeated stirring. In this mode of sowing the seeds vegetate more rapidly, and are sooner out of danger from the fly, and the crop is more certain as well as heavier. Should the turnips fail, which with every precaution will sometimes happen, the land has had the benefit of a complete fallow, and is well prepared for any other crop.

The instrument used for sowing turnips and other seeds in single rows is sometimes a small light wheel-barrow, which a man pushes before him; hence called a drill-barrow. It has a box in which the seed is put, with a slide to regulate

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the quantity. This is allowed to fall on a wooden or metal a small wheel D on the axis of the cylinder in A, and this cylinder below. In the circumference of this cylinder are turns another wheel C on the axis of the cylinder in B. As several cavities where the seed lodges, and is carried down these two wheels move towards each other, the two cylininto a tin funnel below; the remainder is prevented from fall-ders turn in contrary directions, which is a convenience in ing through by small brushes in which the cylinder turns. throwing the seed and the manure into the funnels KK The motion is communicated from the wheel which runs on at the same time. The wheel F may be lifted up by means the ground to the cylinder by means of a chain on two pul- of a lever G, and then the cylinders do not revolve. There lies placed on the axes of the wheel and cylinder. are various other contrivances which cannot well be explained without a more detailed figure of the different parts. In some districts there is still a prejudice against the use of the drill even for turnips. In Norfolk, where the corn is usually drilled, the turnips are still very generally sown broad-cast. The cause of this appears to be, that as the cultivation of turnips was first introduced from Flanders into Norfolk, and in Flanders turnips are never drilled, because there they are generally sown as a second crop immediately after rye harvest, they have continued the old method first introduced, and the labourers are become very skilful in setting out the plants at proper distances with the hand-hoe. In the north they were introduced at a later date, and the improved mode of sowing in rows was immediately adopted. The Norfolk farmer insists that the barley, usually sown after turnips, is better when the manure has been equally distributed than when it lies in rows, as the land is only slightly ploughed after sheep have been folded on the turnips, and the manure remains in stripes. On the whole, however, drilling in the Northumberland method seems to be the best practice, and is adopted very generally by all scientific farmers.

The improved Northumberland drill, of which a figure is annexed, is a more perfect as well as more complicated instrument. It is supported on two wheels, and drawn by a horse. It sows ground bones, ashes, rape cake, or any other dry manure at the same time with the seed. The body of the drill consists of two boxes, A and B, divided by a partition between them, and each again divided into two by another partition at right-angles to the first. In the box A is put the manure, in B the seed. Iron slides are fixed in each compartment to regulate the supply of seed or manure. In the lower part of the boxes, and just before the opening, which is regulated by the slides, are two cylinders, one for the box A and another for B. On the cylinder in A are fixed shallow cups with short stems, which dip in the bones and carry a certain quantity over the cylinder as it turns, which falling in the funnels K K is deposited in the furrows made by the coulters H H. The cylinder in the box B has projecting pieces of iron, with a small cavity in each near the end, which takes up a very small quantity of seed, and discharges it in the same manner into the two funnels K K. On the axis of the wheel E is a toothed wheel, which turns

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Northumberland Turnip Drill, drawn from one manufactured by Messrs. Cottam and Hallen, Winsley Street, Oxford Street, London. On light friable soils, drilling the seed is very generally adopted. There is a neatness in the appearance which recommends it to the eye; and machines have been so improved, that the seed is sown more regularly and is better covered than it could possibly be by the best broad-cast sower followed by the harrows. In very stiff heavy soils, and in moist seasons, it is not so practicable to use the drill. It is sometimes impossible to get the land sufficiently dry and pulverized to allow of drilling to advantage; and when the land is wet the tread of the horses would greatly injure it. If wet clay soils were more generally underdrained, and the subsoil plough were used to loosen them to a considerable depth, they might be rendered so dry and friable that the drill could be used at all times.

In poor sandy and gravelly soils where bones have been found of so great advantage as a manure, drilling is the only mode by which the bones and the seed can be sown in contact with each other; an important circumstance. When the ground has been well prepared and laid into stitches of a convenient width, a whole stitch may be drilled at cnce, with so much regularity, that an instrument with as many hoes as there are drills, and of the same width, may be drawn over the land to stir all the intervals, without

danger of injuring the plants. This requires great practice and attention; but it may be considered as the perfection of the drill system. Where drilling seed is generally adopted, and the farms are not so large as to make it prudent for the occupier to purchase expensive instruments, drilling is become a separate profession. An industrious man with a small capital buys improved drills, and undertakes to drill the seed at a certain price per acre. The farmer finds horses and seed, and the driller finds the machine, and attends to the management of it himself. By constantly doing the same thing he becomes very expert; and in a neighbourhood where there are many small occupiers, a good drilling-machine, which costs from 30l. to 50%., procures the owner a very good livelihood during the whole season of sowing; and if the instruments for hoeing were more generally used, the profession of a hoer of land might be advantageously united to that of the driller. Corn is generally drilled at the distance of eight or nine inches; and a machine which drills twelve rows will cover a stitch ten feet wide. Some prefer the rows to be nearer, but in that case the hoeing is not so easily performed with a machine, and it is done by hand. The most improved machine for drilling is Cook's patent lever drill, which sows

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Cook's, or Suffolk Patent Drill, drawn from one manufactured by Messrs. Cottam and Hallen, Winsley Street, Oxford Street, London. from ten to fifteen rows at once. The description of the Northumberland turnip-drill will make the construction of Cook's drill more easily understood. In the annexed figure the box for sowing manure is not added, as it is in the Northumberland drill. The drill is supported on a frame and two wheels. The box A, which holds the seed, lets it down gradually into a lower part, in which the cylinder, which has the small cups fixed to its circumference, is turned by the wheel D. By means of the lever G this may be raised so that its teeth are freed from those of the wheel E, and the motion of the cylinder is stopped. The coulters which make the drills are each fixed to a lever, at one end of which, B, a weight is fixed to press the coulter into the ground. Each coulter has a separate lever, so that it adapts itself to all the inequalities of the soil. A chain proceeds from the end of each, and may be wound round a cylinder C by turning the handles fixed to it at H, where there is also a racket-wheel to prevent its unwinding. The intent of this is to raise all the coulters out of the ground, when the drill is not intended to act, or is moved from place to place. When the drill is used, the box A is filled with seed, and the slide in it so adjusted as to supply it regularly; the lever G, which was fixed down, is raised, and the wheel D connected with the wheel E. As the horses proceed, the cylinder turns, the cups take up the seed, and throw it into the funnels K K, which conduct it to the drill behind the coulter. A light harrow, or a bush-harrow, follows, which covers the seed. In very loose soils the roller completes the operation.

stantial bridge, as appears by a grant of pontage made in 1228 by Henry III., who in the same year also divided the town into two parts, viz., Drogheda versus Uriel, on the Louth side of the river, and Drogheda versus Midiam, on the Meath side. In 1412, the division of the town into two corporations being found productive of much animosity between the inhabitants of the opposite sides of the river, was repealed by Henry IV., since which time Drogheda on both sides of the Boyne has continued to be one body corporate. Being a frontier town of the pale, Drogheda was a principal rendezvous for the forces which were so frequently required in Ulster between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries; and many of the Irish parliaments were held here, particularly during the fifteenth century. In the parliament which met at Drogheda in 1494 was passed the statute called Poyning's Act, which made it necessary to the validity of all future acts of the Irish parliament that the bills should first be certified as fit for the consideration of that assembly by the king in council (10 Hen. vii. c. 22). By this act the freedom of the Irish legislature was virtually destroyed, and in this state of subjection it continued until the assertion of independence by the Irish volunteers in 1782.

DRIMYS. [CANELLA ALBA; WINTERA.]
DRIN, or DRINO. [ALBANIA.]

DROGHEDA is a seaport town, forming with its liberties the county of the town of Drogheda, in the province of Leinster in Ireland, situated between the counties of Meath and Louth, upon both sides of the river Boyne, about four miles from its entrance into the Irish channel, and 23 Irish or 29 English miles from Dublin.

The town and liberties occupy the parish of St. Mary's, towards Meath, on the south side of the river, and the parish of St. Peter's, and part of the parish of Ballymakenny, towards Louth, on the north side of the river. The total area of the town and liberties is 5802 statute acres. The recent boundary act has not made any alteration in these limits,

The name Drogheda, of which Tredagh (as it is generally written in old books) is a corruption, signifies the bridge of the ford. A synod was held here by Cardinal Paparo, the Pope's legate, in 1152; which was very numerously attended by the Irish ecclesiastics, and at which the authority and discipline of the church of Rome were greatly strengthened in Ireland. After the conquest, the first care of the English seemed to have been the erection of a sub

A mint was at this time established at Drogheda, and the town appears to have been a place of much greater importance than at any subsequent period.

On the breaking out of the rebellion of 1641, Drogheda was besieged by Sir Phelim O'Neill, and a large force of Irish, who invested the town on both sides on the 1st of December. The garrison consisted of only about 1000 men, under Sir Henry Tichborne and the Lord Moore, who having taken an oath to defend the place to the last extremity, not only repulsed several attacks of the Irish, but succeeded in captur ing large booties and doing great damage to the rebels in numerous sallies, until the 28th of February, when they finally forced them to raise the siege.

On the arrival of Cromwell in Ireland in 1649, the Marquis of Ormond placed a garrison of nearly 3000 men in Drogheda, under the command of Sir Arthur Aston; and satisfied of its security, withdrew into the midland counties to recruit. Cromwell left Dublin on the 30th of August, and came before Drogheda on the 2nd of September, but, owing to some delay in the arrival of his artillery, which he had sent round by sea, he did not open any battery till the 9th. On the 10th, at 5 o'clock in the afternoon, having effected a breach, without the delay of making regular approaches, he gave the assault; and although twice repulsed, succeeded on the third attempt, which he led himself, in carrying the town. Quarter was promised by his officers and men, and the bulk of the garrison are said to have laid down their arms on that assurance: nevertheless they were all put to the sword, with the exception of a very few who escaped by the north gate, and about thirty whom Cromwell after

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