he then draws the fire open, and lays the cake down
upon where the centre of the fire was. To avoid burning, he rakes some
ashes over the cake first; he then rakes on a suitable quantity of the
live embers, and his cake is cooked in a short space of time." According
to Mr. Cobbett, he grew _ninety-five_ bushels of corn on one acre of
ground; reckoning the value of this corn equal to bad and stale samples
of wheat, which, at the time Mr. Cobbett was writing, was selling at
45_s_. the quarter, Mr. Cobbett's crop would be worth nearly 27_l_. the
acre, three times, as he says, that of the average crop of wheat this
same year. But in order to compare the worth of this crop with that of
others, there are several considerations to be entered into besides
this; these it is needless to say, Mr. Cobbett shows are wholly in
favour of Cobbett's corn. However this may be, and even making a large
allowance for the determination of the writer to see every thing he
loves _couleur de rose_, we think there can be little doubt of this
fact, that he has made out a case for experiment, and still more, that
they who have not made the experiment, are not entitled either to
distrust or to gainsay his assertions. It should be observed, that there
are two branches in Mr. Cobbett's argument; he maintains that his
variety of Indian corn may be grown in this country: but should this not
be confirmed by more general experiments, still his praise of the plant,
as a valuable substitute for wheat, and even its superior applicability
to domestic purposes, demand the same attention as before; for if it may
be grown, it may be imported, as from Canada, without the imposition of
a burthensome duty.

* * * * *

THE WATCHMAN'S LAMENT.

As homeward I hurried, within "The Wen,"
At midnight, all alone.
My knees, like the knees of a drunken man,
Foreboding shook, and my eyes began
To see two lamps for one.

The lights burnt blue, as they're wont to do
When Spirits are in the wind.
Ho! ho! thought I, that's an ominous hue,
And a glance on either side I threw,
But I fear'd to look behind.

A smell, as of gas, spread far and wide,
But sulphur it was, I knew;
My sight grew dim, and my tongue was tied,
And I thought of my home, and my sweet fireside,
And the friends I had left at loo!

And I took once more a hurried peep
Along and across the street,
And then I beheld