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spirit which called them into existence, and the calculation upon which they are founded, might not be acted upon still to the great advantage of society.

In the first place, to the mill of the lord of the manor, to which the peasants, while serfs, were bound to bring their grain to be ground, a village mill has succeeded, occasionally forming part of the corporation property, sometimes owned by shareholders who have purchased the mill of some once privileged owner. As it is still usual all over Germany for peasants to grind their own corn, there may be seen a table in all these mills in which the miller's fee, usually a portion of the meal, is expressed for all the quantities commonly brought. The feeling of security conveyed by the power of doing without extraneous help-a relic, perhaps, of the times when communications were liable to constant interruption, and bad roads made carriage difficult or impossible -still gives price to these mills. We have known instances of large sums being refused for mills that were sought for manufacturing purposes; the ground assigned being that the village could not do without it.

A public baking-oven is another appendage to a German village, although every rich peasant has his own. The oven is heated by those who use it in succession, each person bringing his own wood. In autumn the flax, after steeping or dew-rotting, is dried in this oven. The tendency of modern times is to dispense with these efforts to attain, by association, what was difficult or expensive for individuals to establish. We cannot help thinking that more may be said in defence of these common institutions than in praise of much that has superseded them. The great article of consumption, bread, is, for instance, enjoyed at least in purity by the aid of the village mill. Cheapness, of course, is at present not attained by the peasant, who never calculates the value of the time he spends in procuring food, and who certainly does not rank the exemption of the females of his family from drudgery amongst his luxuries. They are allotted their full share of outdoor work, as well as all the care of the household.

The expense incurred by labour lost or

inefficiently applied is, however, no result of the institutions which under their present management demand the sacrifice. It would only be necessary to place the mill, for instance, on the footing of a private trading concern, and to value the corn delivered and the meal received in money, to make all waste apparent, and to suggest the requisite means of economy. Were the forests and grazing commons treated in the same manner, a like result would take place. The invaluable control retained by the villagers over their miller, of displacing him for misconduct, would secure their meal from the adulteration of which the inhabitants of towns so justly complain. We cannot help thinking that a judicious development of this German village system would secure to the people many of the advantages which they hope, by what are called socialist or communist unions, to attain, without exposing them to the dangers which these innovations threaten. Food of all kinds and clothing, cheap and good, might be secured by village shops, or by the establishment of district magazines, on a plan like that of the Apothecaries' halls that are now found in all German towns under the inspection of the government. The adulteration of colonial wares, that is notorious, forms as heavy a drain on the health as the overcharge for retailing in small portions does upon the purses of the great mass of the people in all countries. Their resources might everywhere be made to go much further everywhere than they now can. To secure these advantages no revolution in political or religious institutions is requisite. A far more searching change in public opinion is, however, indispensable the recognition of the fact that the cheapness of necessaries is a private as well as a public benefit.

Like the moral side of the village system, the material aspect and arrangements of the village itself, its houses, its roads, its public and corporation edifices, have two points of view from which the stranger must judge of them. The position of nearly every old village was usually determined by flowing water, and the care bestowed upon the stream that runs apparently disregarded in its irregular meanderings through the mass of houses, whose

position has, by its course, been no less irregularly fixed, is greater than a superficial glance would lead one to suppose. Endless are the difficulties which the preservation of this running water in its full purity opposes to changes, and often to improvements. Prosaic as it may seem, we are inclined to ascribe the early use of liquid manure amongst the German peasantry to the obligation enforced upon all neighbours to the stream to prevent the issue of drains into it. This restriction does not apply to rivers, which in Germany, as elsewhere, are made the means of impoverishing the people by ministering to their wasteful convenience. But the brook, which is the centre round which village arrangements revolve in their daily homely course, is consecrated to cleanliness, being, we are sorry to say, almost the only sacrifice on the altar of the deity that is conspicuous. The details of the best managed farm-yard suppose some portions of ground devoted to what in its place is prized as highly valuable, but out of its place is mere filth. A German village is an assemblage of diminutive farm-yards, where the dung-heap, with all its accompanying odours, and unsavoury streams, subdivided like the land they are destined to fertilise, is reproduced at every house; and, as the near and ingenious contrivances to keep these matters out of sight, which are impracticable on a large scale, are out of the question when they require to be repeated in innumerable varieties around every man's tenement, they are of course dropped altogether. The multiplicity of small dung-heaps, exposed to the heat of a Rhenish sun, unquestionably taints the air and affects the health of the villagers; but it would be as hard to suppress the pleasure with which every member of the family regards the heap that is to supply their yearly food, as it is to drive the Irishman's pig out of the cabin of which he pays the rent.

We know several books, well penned and full of good advice, that are circulated at a cheap rate for the benefit of Irish cottiers. In one we remember a tirade against horses, the inclination to indulge in which is deeply implanted in Paddy's nature. The author has calculated, perhaps too moderately, the expense of the

keep of a horse, and shows that a horse to five acres of land, as he finds is kept in part of the county of Wexford, is a palpable absurdity. But besides making no allowance for the fact that five acres of land leave a man time enough to earn money in other ways, and the trade of a carrier is everywhere a profitable one, the account is summarily balanced against the peasant without allowing anything for the manure of his stable. How friend Martin Doyle could overlook this point, as well as the fact that horse-dung, in the wet soil of Ireland, is likely to be more suitable manure than the dung of the cow, which he would substitute for the horse, we cannot explain. In Germany no one recommends the peasant to diminish the number of his herd, nor do any pretend to prescribe the keeping of one animal for another, experience having long since made the peasant wiser on this point than his adviser, who cannot follow all his minute calculations. Directions for building pits, and treating the heaps so as to promote or check fermentation, as it may be necessary, are circulated by the agricultural societies, but the time has not yet arrived for observing whether the heap be exposed to the public gaze or not. As long as the existence of the mass of the people is only secured by the subdivision of the nourishing soil, that is to say, as long as manufactures do not at home afford means of exchange for agricultural objects, and trade is not allowed to seek them abroad, so long must the villager be a small landowner; and one of the responsibilities he lies under is, that of contributing his share, however diminutive, towards keeping the land in heart.

If the stream destined to furnish the indispensable beverage for man and beast is kept as pure as possible, this, under the circumstances, is done at the expense of nearly every other channel or conduit into which the impurities can drain, or are conducted to be kept until wanted. It is matter of difficulty to traverse the ups and downs of village roads and paths in any part of Germany with dry shoes. Taking the small stream as a point of departure, it is easy to see how the houses have agglomerated successively in various rows and angles, which their isolated

position does not show at a cursory glance. But could we read the annals of these German parishes, we should find much comparative value created by the vicinity of the stream, as allowing of an easier carriage of water to the stable, or a shorter drive for cattle to water, to say nothing of the convenience to ducks and geese, who can waddle and sleek their feathers in the brook almost under the eyes of their owner, and of its utility to the washing part of the family, whose bare legs and much-used linen are unanimously voted in no way to contaminate the living stream, which indeed they rarely tincture with soap.

The houses themselves offer a contrast to the diminutive holdings of which they are representatives. As we have already observed, they are out of all proportion large. In the Duchy of Cleves, they are moderate for the most part, owing to the gradually obtaining distinction between the agricultural and the other industrious classes, which tends to take land away from the one, and to augment the holdings of the others. In Westphalia we have noticed the extent of ground occupied by farming offices, which abstract considerably from the cultivated land, and entail great expense by outlay for repairs.

In the villages the houses are usually built of wooden frames, whose beams and standards are mortised into each other and bound and supported by sloping stays, the mortises being fastened by pegs throughout. Where timber abounds the wood most in use is oak. Near the Rhine fir and pine wood are used. The thickness of the wood is usually seven inches square, which conveniently holds a layer of bricks laid breadthwise in each compartment. The bricks are not always burnt, and the compartments are sometimes filled up with strong wicker-work which is plastered over. When the house is coated with lime or clay and whitewashed, the wooden frame is left conspicuous all over, and is often painted in fanciful colours. The value of the building is indicated by the thickness of the timber shown to be employed in this framework. Formerly, while timber was abundant and cheap, this style of building was recommended by economy; now

stone, which is almost always to be had, and bricks, are less expensive, excepting to the owners of forests. The house usually contains one or two sleepingrooms, besides a sitting-room and kitchen; sometimes the same number of rooms is found in an upper story. The roof is invariably lofty, and serves the purpose of storehouse and barn. In its spacious cavity the thrashed corn, the hay, and often the vegetable store for winter use are kept. The housewife dries her clothes in winter on the cross-beams. A cellar is invariably found in better houses, and in general when a stranger is told that these are the abodes of people little above the station of cottiers, he finds them splendid. When he hears that these cottiers are the landowners and masters of the soil, he scarcely knows how to estimate their position.

With the best will it is scarcely possible for a family employed in manual labour to keep a spacious house clean. Dirt accumulates in its passages, in its neglected or too much thronged rooms. Outside, the extensive front precludes all hope of constant neatness, and the expensive luxury is ultimately abandoned in despair.

The distance at which these village houses lie from the land their owners have to till absorbs the spare moments that might be employed with the broom, and the want of plan in laying out building-plots, where every man applies his own land to the purpose, constantly allows a neighbour to foil the best-directed efforts.

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These drawbacks to cleanliness and external neatness are in part an effect of the German village system. In Holland the small farm-houses, with the road neatly clinkered in front, and unincumbered with useless buildings, offer a pleasanter picture to the English eye. But in Holland, as in England, trade has favoured that division of labour which is favourable to individual comfort, and in Germany this powerful lever has hitherto had little influence. What is most pleasing in the German village is, that the school is an indispensable requisite, and often a conspicuous ornament of the place. The village school is not in-. trusted to any bedridden dame or superannuated person of the male sex who

volunteers his services. The schoolmaster has been regularly educated to fill his post at seminaries destined to train teachers. He must have obtained his certificate of qualification and good conduct before any patronage can help him to his post; and usually he spends some years as assistant or usher in some school of larger resort before he is intrusted with the management of even the smallest village institution.

Amongst the injunctions he receives upon assuming office, the duty of encouraging improved processes of agriculture is enforced, in which, however, his influence goes no further than making trials of what is recommended by authors or occasionally by the government. the schoolmasters in many parts have made trials in the breeding of silkworms,

Thus

which the German governments have very much recommended, and which has been sufficiently shown to be practicable. It will be long before a country struggling with the difficulty of raising food will show a general disposition to produce an article of luxury like silk on an extensive scale. In this as in many other points experience is a more influential teacher than the schoolmaster. Yet the time may come when his task may be extended to the inculcation of simple and convincing views of industry, and of sounder and more sociable doctrines than our narrow-minded age has hitherto professed. Then will it be evident how much a nation gains by having a ready sower to distribute the good seed, and by the previous pains taken to prepare the ground that is to receive it.

INDIAN CORN MEAL.-[We have given a Paper on this subject in a recent Number, but we add the following from a correspondent, whose observations are the results of his own experience.]-Among one of the beneficial relaxations of our Protective system is the admission of Indian corn meal free of duty. This valuable grain cannot be cultivated successfully in any part of the British Islands, owing to the want of sufficient heat: at any rate it would be a very uncertain crop. The exclusion of this valuable article of food by a high duty is as absurd as if we were to exclude rice by high duties. The Indian corn is well adapted to fatten animals, and it is also an excellent article of food. It is very nutritious and very wholesome. Still it is possible that it may be some time before it comes into general use as an article of food, and it is probable that those who can get good wheaten bread will not care for Indian corn bread. The English poor are more likely to be prejudiced against the use of it than the classes who are less poor and more frugal and managing.

In the southern and western states of North America cakes of Indian corn meal are much used, and they form a large part of the food of the slaves. If the meal is made into flat cakes, half an inch in thickness is perhaps enough; but those who try the experiment may suit their own taste. Few people will like the cakes when they are cold, and perhaps they are rather heavy food when eaten in that state. If eaten

warm, they are sweet and wholesome, and probably few persons will find any bad effects from them. Instead of preparing the meal to the consistency of dough, it may be made just thick enough to pour out of a ladle, and in this state it may be baked on a tin or iron, and will produce a cake very much like a bun in size and shape. This is to our mind one of the best ways of using the meal. With a little good butter the warm cake will make a breakfast fit for a duke; and with a good cup of coffee or tea, or a basin of milk, it is a treat to any man with a good wholesome appetite.

The meal when prepared warm to the consistency of oatmeal porridge makes a very excellent dish with treacle or molasses. The molasses which they use in the United States is a much better thing than the ordinary treacle that is sold in England.

If a little flour is mixed with the Indian corn meal, it will make an excellent pudding by boiling it in a bag. A good housewife will probably find that the meal may be used in various ways that are not mentioned here; and we advise all thrifty people with good appetites not to be discouraged if they can't at first cook the thing to their liking. They must try till they please themselves, and rest assured that the Prime Minister is giving them a right good article to work upon, which the legislation of those who would protect us against our will, and to our heavy cost, has so long excluded from the list of our eatables.

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