Extract of a Letter to the Editor, containing farther Particulars refpecting the Mangel Wurfel.

AFTER taking notice, that hares are very fond of the Ruta Baga, fo as to have eaten a small patch of them almost entirely, he proceeds: "I experience the fame inconvenience with my Scarcity Root, with this differ ence, that there is fo much bulk of that, as to fet them at defiance; and that by their fize, there is not much trouble in burying a quantity of them, as I do potatoes, by which I last year kept them in ufe for my swine, till my early fown ones came in; and there remained fo much folidity and sweetness in the roots from which I had reap'd the feed when ripe, that the hogs fought for

them.

It is an argument much in favour of these roots, that they will be fet to hoe at a time the farmers (here at leaft) are at a lofs to employ their labourers, which will tend to prevent the great hurry at the feafon of turnip hoing; fo is their being attainable of fuch a fize foon after mid-fummer, (when our grafs is ufually burnt up), that an allowance of one hundred fquareyards a night to ten cows, with very moderate grafs in the day, kept them in full milk. I had this year as much Mangel Wurzel, as kept my cows till Christmas, and have a handsome stock buried for feed and for my fwine in the fummer; and notwithstanding I was unlucky in one parcel of my feed, which produced chiefly plants, with their crowns close to the ground, and roots with many fangs, instead of rising like the long pudding turnip, which they fhould do; and that I fowed part of them fo late (for experiment), that they acquired but fo fmall a fize, as obliged me to feed them on the ground, for which this, wet feafon has been very favourable; and withal, my labourers obferved, that the fame space

of

ground lafted, upon the whole, much longer than it would have done of turnips; and my dairy-maid complained, when the cows came to good turnips, drawn on to a fresh Sainfoin inclosure, that they ftunk of their milk. Having faid thus much in praife of my favourite root, I must mention one alarm I received, which I am willing to attribute to the ufe of it, although Dr. Lettfom affures me he has not heard of the like from any other quarter, which is, that two of my young cows repeatedly dropped down fuddenly, and had done fo feveral days, before my yardman informed me of it. When the farrier came, he bled them, and found their blood very black. I asked him if he had ever met with a fimilar cafe; and he told me, that when Mr. Coke of Holkham gave his cows fo many carrots, as brought all the hair off their skins, they were affected in the fame manner. This convinced me, that the juices of both these roots are too rich to be used too freely, and I ordered my cows a peck of potatoes each every night and morning; and heard no more of their falling but the week before the laft, the fame cows were affected in the fame manner, after having eaten nothing but turnips and ftraw fince Chriftmas day. How far this may clear Mangel Wurzel, in your mind, from the imputation of being too good, I know not; it will certainly make me cautious in my ufe of it alone but I must find fome weightier objection than I am yet aware of, before I abandon the culture of it. Notwithstanding my continued rage for potatoes and for vetches, and planting cabbages on the first ploughing after them; by which means, I can fhew fome land as clean as any which has been completely fummer-tilled for turnips; and for young ftock or croned fheep, the cabbages are very valuable; but for fweetnefs of cream, I have never yet met with any thing but natural grafs or potatoes to compare with Mangel Wurzel.

:

Norfolk, て

Feb. 7, 1791.

Sir,

Your obedient fervant,
M. M.

Extracts from Whist, a Poem, just published.

Praife of Whit.

LET all the games that afk but little skill,
Loo, Commerce, Comet, Baffet and Quadrille,
Like twinkling ftars that dimly gild the night,
Shrink from the blaze of Whift's refulgent light:
Nay more, let thofe that higher rank may claim,
Let nice Piquette, and Ombre's ftudious game,
(Though each has charms) the fruitless conteft yield,
And to the filent fport refign the field.

For which of these can boast the pow'r to bind,
In chains of equal strength the captive mind?
Can each, or all, fuch anxious thoughts infpire,
Or with fuch ardour keen the spirit fire?
Can they fo much the lofer's peace deftroy,
Or fill the winner's breaft with equal joy?
Can, at Piquette the buitieme and quatorze ;
Quadrille's triumvirate of matadores;
Fifteens at Cribbage, or the pam at Loo;
With fuch extatic rapture blifs the view,
As when at Whift, the firm quadruple band
Of honoured chiefs enrich a fingle hand?
Or, what is oft of more importance found,

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When ftrength of cards, with ftrength of trumps is crown'd,

Let Ombre then amufe the fons of Spain,

And ftill Piquette the Frenchman's game remain,
Let Brag be left to Newgate's broken crew,
To children Commerce, and to footmen Loo;
While ev'ry Briton, who to manly sense,
To taste or breeding has the leaft pretence,
His fportive hours, to Whift alone confines
And other paftimes all for this refigns,

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SIR,

To the Editor of the Bee.

THE inclosed I many years ago tore out of a magazine, and
have always intended fending it to fome public paper.
I am certain that it has been written by Dr. Johnfon. I
need not tell a judge like you that it is excellent.
has escaped all his collectors, and well deferves to be re-
printed. I am, yours, &c.

A. B.

It

To Mr. Urban, on his completing the eighteenth Volume
of the Gentleman's Magazine.

ARTS, to complete what Nature but began,
Firft wrought the human favage into man;
Then gave him empire o'er the peopl'd ball,
And bade the conqu'ror be the lord of all.
These taught him firft to tame the bounding fteed,
Bend the tough yew, and wing the pointed reed,
With speed and prowefs not his own endu'd,
The ftrong he vanquish'd, and the swift purfu'd,
He mounts the chariot, and, at ease reclin'd,..
Sees the gaunt lion lab'ring pant behind;
His miffive weapon gives a diftant wound,
And brings the vulture breathlefs to the ground:
Now, tenfold ftrength by Mathefis supply'd,
He cleaves the mountain, and he stems the tide;
This taught, for him, fubfervient feas to flow,
The ftars to wander, and the winds to blow.

But while he rifes thus from arts to arts,
Each step Neceffity or Chance imparts;
Till, to entail the bleffings on his kind,

Heav'n taught him Letters, and their powers affign'd:

This Art, alone defcended from the skies,
Arrefts Ideas living as they rife;

This, to late times preferved the fage's thought,
Reprov'd in fecret, and in filence taught.

But Science ftill retir'd from public view,
And, though immortal, yet she liv'd for few :

Long, long her venerated page was rare,
With labour copy'd, and preserv'd with care;
Scarce a whole life, one tranfcript could produce,
The toil of Poverty, for Grandeur's ufe :
Till now, improving on the plan divine,
Man bade diffufive truth in Printing shine;
By this, the labour of a thousand years
The perfect produce of a month appears.
Now Science lurks no longer in the fhade,
To every eye is every thought difplayed.

Ah! not to Science facred is the art,
Intruding Error proudly claims her part;
Through the fame medium Falfhood's colours play,
And Truth's white radiance gives unbroken day;
The fophift quibbles with an air fedate;
The fat'rift raves, and rhiming females prate;
Here pious Kempis breathes feraphic fire;
Here Wilmot rages with impure defire;
Here Newton reafons, and Des Cartes dreams
Here Morgan lies, and Muggleton blafphemes.

How kind the hand, that, bleft with friendly fkill,
Divides the mafs, felecting good from ill;
But yet repeated dainties cloy the mind,

The tasteful feast in Novelty we find.

For Twice Nine Years a conftant treat to frame,
Forever tafteful, as 'tis ne'er the fame;
Still with the Wholefome to unite the New,
And bid the Elegant adorn the True,
To teach, to please, to mend a letter'd age,
This laft refinement of the finish'd page;
This, Urbon, this is thy peculiar praise, i
No vain pretender to disputed bays.
Still ev'ry Art, and every Mufe unite,
Still give at once improvement and delight;
Still thrice four thoufand fhall impatient wait

The fterling fenfe that's ftamp'd with St. John's Gate,
Long live! the plaudit of the wife to feel,

While Envy yelis unnoticed at thy heel.

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