nagement; for thus not only the cow, but also the cottager himself, and his family, would, in a great measure, be maintained by a less surface of soil.

3. It is of infinite consequence to establish the practicability of this system, as the means of removing a most unfortunate obstacle to the improvement of the country. It is well known to be the only popular ubjection to the inclosure of our wastes and commons, that, while uninclosed, a number of cottagers are enabled to keep cows, by the means of their common rights, and that their cows disappear when the commons are inclosed. But if so small a portion of land as 34 acres, when improved and properly cultivated, can enable a cottager to keep a cow, even to more advantage than with a right of common, which can hardly be doubted, as he is enabled to provide winter as well as summer food, there is an end to that obstacle to improvement. Indeed, if sufficient attention be paid to the prin

ciples above detailed, the situation of the cottager, instead of being deteriorated, would be materially bettered by the inclosure; and his ris ing family would be early accustomed to habits of industry, instead of idleness and vice.

I shall conclude with asking if any one can figure to himself a more delightful spectacle, than to see an industrious cottager, his busy wife, and healthy family, living in a comfortable house, rented by himself, cultivating their little territory with their own hands, and enjoying the profits arising from their own labour and industry, or whether it is possible for a generous land-holder to employ his property with more satisfaction, or in a manner more likely to promote, not only his own, but the public interest, than by endeavouring to increase the number of such cottagers, and encouraging, by every means in his power, the exertions of so meritorious and so important a class of the community.

The rotation then begins as at first. Lot D might continue in natural grass the first season, to diminish the labour of that year.

The exact period when the different crops should be dug for, or sown, cannot be ascertained, because it varies so much in different counties, and depends upon the seasons; but, according to the above rotation, the labour of digging for the various crops is diversified as much as possible, so as not to interfere, materially, with the other occupations of the cottager. At no period would it be necessary for

turnips.

and Winter

and Barley, wheat,

spring tares.

or oats.

him to dig more than two roods in a month; and both he and his family will labour with much more satisfaction and dispatch, when they work for themselves than for another.

In case of necessity, the cottager might hire some of his neighbours to assist him in digging, which would be much better than hiring a plough. If it is found that a cottager, under this system, can. not work as a common daily labourer, it might at least answer for labourers by the piece, who are so extremely useful in all countries.

ANTIQUITIES.

Description of Ruan Lanyhorne Castle, from Polchele's History of Cornwall."

"R'

UAN Lanyhorne-Castle," says Tonkin, stood to the south of the church, at no great distance from it; the rectory-house lying between them, below that, and parallel with this; in a pleasant situation enough, on the edge of a creek, into which a small rivulet empties itself, and the river Fale, which is here of a considerable breadth when the tide is in; and surrounded formerly with woods, which are now mostly destroyed." Leland gives this account of the state it was in at this time. "From Tregony to passe down by the body of the haven of Falamuth, to the mouth of Lanyhorne-crceke or kille, on the south-east side of the haven is a 2 miles. This creeke goith up half a mile from the principale streame of the haven. At the hed of this creeke standith the castle of Lanyhorne, sumtyme a castelle of an eight toures now decaying for lak of coverture. It longgid as principal house to the Archedecons. This land descendid by heires general to the Corbetes, of Shropshir, and to Vaulx, of Northamptonshir. Vaulx part syns bought by Tregyon, of Cornewaule." By this one may

guess what a stately castle this formerly was. For in my time was only one tower of the castle standing; which was so large, that if the other seven were equal to it, the whole building must be of a prodigi. ous magnitude. But I fancy this was the body of the whole, for there is not room enough about it for so great a pile: so that I believe the cight towers, mentioned by Leland, were only turrets and appendices to this principal part. I wish I had taken a draft of it in season, as I often intended; for this too was pulled down in or about the year 1718, by Mr. Grant; who, having obtained leave from the lord to do it, erected several houses with the materials, and turned it to a little town; to which ships of about eighty or a hundred tons come up, and supply the neighbourhood with coals, timber, &c. as the barges do with sand. But, since the writing of this, I am informed that six of the eight towers were standing within these thirty years; of which that which I have mentioned was the biggest and loftiest, as being at least 50 feet in height.” Thus Tonkin. On which Whitaker observes, "The contradictoriness of Mr. Tonkin's account of the castle is but too apparent; not in the posterior information correcting

the

the prior ideas, but in the primary and original ideas of all. He considers the church as denominated the church of iron from the castle, this "being, in those times, a place of great note and strength." From Leland's account, one may guess, he adds, what a stately castle this formerly was; yet, he remarks, that there is not room enough about it for so great a pile; so that, I believe, the eight towers mentioned by Leland were only turrets." And the fact is this, freed from all its contradictions and embarrassments. The castle consisted only of seven towers, as Leland had corrected his eight in the M. S. These were not entire, even in Leland's time. The castle was, he says, "sum-tyme a castelle of a seven toures," and was then decaying for lak of coverture." It had been long deserted. Its roofs had fallen in. And its seven towers had already begun to moulder away into ruins. Of these, however," six were standing within 30 years" before Mr. Tonkin's writing, or since the commencement of the present century. These had stood all the beating rains and shaking storms of a region, peculiarly exposed to the watery turbulence of the Atlantie, for a whole century and a half. But they had been crumbling insensibly away under all. At last, I suppose, four of the six were thrown to the ground, in that great storm of November, which came sweeping with such violence over the Atlantic, which has made the year 1703 so memorable in our annals by its destructiveness, and the fury of which must have been peculiarly felt here. Two of its towers remained within the memory of some living in 1708. These were ad

joining to the water. One of these were standing within the memory of Mr. Tonkin. This "was so large, that if the other seven [six] were equal to it, the whole building must be of a prodigious magnitude. And "I wish," he subjoins, "I had taken a draft of it, as I often intended." This, however, was not "the body of the whole." Nor were "the eight [seven] towers mentioned by Leland only turrets, and appendices to this principal part." This was merely "the biggest and loftiest." The whole cas tle, says tradition, spread over the higher ground immediately to the north. This, indeed, makes it a large building. But so it must have been from its denomination of a castle, from its being "the principal house" of its lords; from the number of its towers: and from the general extent assigned it by tradition. The grand part of the castle, in modern time, appears to have been that tower, which was so superior to the rest, and formed a distinct fortress of itself. This, says tradition, was round in its form. It is still remembered by the appellation of the round tower. And the others were consequently square. This was the keep or dungeon of the castle. It was the place in which the lord kept the prisoners of his baronial judicature. The interior fortress of a castle obtained the denomination of a keep, from keeping the prisoners in it, as a prison has now acquired the occasional appellation of a dungeon, from the baronial prisons being in the dungeon or inner fortress. And a low, a deep, a subterraneous part of a prison, is peculiarly entitled a dungeon now; from the baronial prison being low, deep, and subterraneous.

This was exactly the case here. On what is now near to the brook of Ruan, and what was formerly the very margin of the tide-way, stand some lofty remains, which always attract the attention of a surveyor; and, in which, is what tradition calls the dungel, and reports to have been a prison. And dungel, the popular appellation among the Cornish of Ruan, for the round tower itself, is now confined to its dungeon or prison. That was, "at least, fifty feet in height, within the present century. This is placed, by tradition, where the remains are still about forty feet high. A thick remnant of the castle shoots up into a kind of lofty gable end. In this is a couple of stone chimnies. One of them is still used in a house, that has latterly obtained the name of the Music Room, from a musical society convened in it at times by Mr. Grant. But close to this chimney on the south, is a kind of funnel in the wall, about two feet wide, and five feet deep, that comes down from the roof, is closed up in the chamber above, is all open to the east in the ground-room, and descended lately by a hole in the floor, to an unknown depth in the earth. Forty years ago, the boys called this funnel the dungel, threw stones down the uncovered hole in the floor, listened with admiration to their rattle, as they descended, and then ran away with terror All the dust of the house used, more recently, to be swept into it. It has thus become so far filled up in the time, that a young girl used, a few years ago, to let herself down into it, in order to recover any thing that had fallen down it. It was then about seven feet deep; and it is now boarded Under this room is a kind of

over.

cellar, used as a warehouse now. but reported, by tradition, to have been a prison formerly. It was the real dungel or dungeon of the cas. tle; being then accessible only from above. And it must have been a dark and dismal dungeon, having no light into it, even at present, except a little that comes in by a small lattice in the new part of the wall over the door; having the walb thick and damp around it, and even the rock for a yard high on the north side; being accessible only by a rope or ladder, through a trapdoor in the floor above; and being reached every tide with the waves of the sea. Such a picture have we here of the severity used to crimi nals formerly! The milkiness of compassion, that sensitive pla which is so much cultivated in ou English soil at present, shrinks into itself with a tremulous vivaciti of feeling, at the conception of suc treatment, even for the vilest crim nals. But the temperament of th British body was infinitely better calculated formerly for bearing t damp of such a dungeon than it i now.

Our very prisons are no dryer than the castles of our baros were. And, as to the solitude and darkness of a prison, these, sure!, are very properly adapted to t purposes of corrective confinement; to the sequestration of the guilt mind from objects that divert its at tention from its guilt; to enforci upon it the consideration of its ow criminality; and to the productie of an useful penitence in it. Irume diately over this subterraneous kin of prison must the jailor have lived The chimney of the room over the dungeon was the chimney of h house. But what was the funn by it? It was one of the privies à

the