in, finding only the surface soil in a condition to receive it, soon
fills this, and often more than fills it, and stands on the surface. After
the rain, come wind and sun, to dry off the standing water,--to dry out the
free water in the surface soil, and to drink up the water of the subsoil,
which is slowly drawn from below. If no spring, or ooze, keep up the
supply, and if no more rain fall, the subsoil may be dried to a
considerable depth, cracking and gaping open, in wide fissures, as the
clay loses its water of absorption, and shrinks. After the surface soil
has become sufficiently dry, the land may be plowed, seeds will germinate,
and plants will grow. If there be not too much rain during the season, nor
too little, the crop may be a fair one,--if the land be rich, a very good
one. It is not impossible, nor even very uncommon, for such soils to
produce largely, but they are always precarious. To the labor and expense
of cultivation, which fairly earn a secure return, there is added the
anxiety of chance; success is greatly dependent on the weather, and the
weather may be bad: Heavy rains, after planting, may cause the seed to rot
in the ground, or to germinate imperfectly; heavy rains during early
growth may give an unnatural development, or a feeble character to the
plants; later in the season, the want of sufficient rain may cause the
crop to be parched by drought, for its roots, disliking the clammy subsoil
below, will have extended within only a few inches of the surface, and are
subject, almost, to the direct action of the sun's heat; in harvest time,
bad weather may delay the gathering until the crop is greatly injured, and
fall and spring work must often be put off because of wet.

The above is no fancy sketch. Every farmer who cultivates a retentive soil
will confess, that all of these inconveniences conspire, in the same
season, to lessen his returns, with very damaging frequency; and nothing
is more common than for him to qualify his calculations with the proviso,
"if I have a good season." He prepares his ground, plants his seed,
cultivates the crop, "does his best,"--thinks he does his best, that
is,--and trusts to Providence to send him good weather. Such farming is
attended with too much uncertainty,--with too much _luck_,--to be
satisfactory; yet, so long as the soil remains in its undrained condition,
the element of luck will continue to play a very important part in its
cultivation, and bad luck wil