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brought him to it." Sloggins has asserted
that " the draymer set him a nockin his
old mother's head again the wall." Sloggins
has made manifest "that it was the
double-shuffle wot kep him out of church."
Sloggins has written the declaration, " Dear
Sir if i hadn seen the oprer Frardeaverler i
shouldn dear Sir have been overaggrawated
into the folli of beatin Betsey with a redot
poker." Sloggins warmly recommends that
all Theatres be shut up for good, all Dancing
Rooms pulled down, and all music stopped.
Considers that nothing else is people's ruin.
Is certain that but for sitch, he would now
be in a large way of business and universally
respected. Consequently, all the five and
twenty, in five and twenty honest and sincere
reports, do severally urge that the requirements
and deservings of Job Smith be in nowise
considered or cared for; that the natural
and deeply rooted cravings of mankind be
plucked up and trodden out; that Sloggins's
gospel be the gospel for the conscientious and
industrious part of the world; that Sloggins
rule the land and rule the waves; and that
Britons unto Sloggins ever, ever, ever, shall

I submit that this great and dangerous
mistake cannot be too generally known or
generally thought about.


THE scene of the Cheshire cheese making
which I have just been witnessing is in
Flintshire. This is something like a bull to
begin with; but it is not my bull. I
relate what I find; and what I find is a
manufacture of Cheshire cheese, on a farm
celebrated for that article, just within the
borders of Flintshire. I remember being
much amused, when a child, at a little bit of
little Flintshire being separated from the
rest, and packed in between Cheshire, Shropshire,
and Denbighshire. It is just within
that little bit, and near the winding Dee, that
this celebrated cheese farm lies. Very different
is its Flint cheese from the flint cheese
of a more northernly county. In Cumberland
the common cheese made in the moorland
has been literally used as flint. I have
been gravely assured on the spot that a
soldier, being out of the way of a flint for his
musket, actually used a bit of cheese-
rind for the purpose. Moreover, when the
clogs worn by the peasants lose their iron
(just like a donkey's shoe), it is no uncommon
thing to tip the clog with a cheese-paring.
The farmer cuts his cheese for the
table with an axe; and, in the dusk, a succession
of sparks is seen to fly, if the cheese be
in proper economical condition. Perhaps the
strangest thing that ever happened through
a cheese was in Cumberland, when one rolled
off a cart that was ascending a steep road.
The cheese bounded down into the valley,
striking the crags, and sending out sparks as
it went, and at the bottom it set the heather
on fire so effectually that it burned for two
days. As for how such a delicacy is relished
in farm-houses, that is a matter in which
testimony differs according to taste. My
own private speculation is that I might like
it very much indeed if I could once get at it;
but there would be the difficulty. If, indeed,
one could get a grater that could stand the
friction, one might try. I will see about it
the next time I go into Cumberland.
Meanwhile, here I am on the banks of the Dee.

Among its other windings, the Dee winds
round a stretch of pasture land so green after
the haymaking as really to dazzle the eye.
The river sweeps round, under a very high
bank, forming a horse-shoe; and when the
waters seem disposed to meet again at the
narrow part, they change their minds, and
wander off on either hand, to form new
circuits and enclose more green meadows.
The semicircular ridges in the pasture show
how much smaller and shallower the curve
once was; and there are people living whose
parents remembered the planting of an oak
by the water-side, which grew some way
inland, where it was cut down. The bank
above the river tells the same tale. Its red
soil is riven, and so heaped and tumbled as
to show that it was brought down roughly by
the action of water below. Some of these
heaps and promontories are old enough,
however, to be covered with well-grown
trees. The gazer above observes that the
whole valley of which this is a nook is
formed precisely in the same manner. It
is walled in semicircularly with wooded
banks, whence charming-looking houses peep
forth, with their green clearings, or sloping
gardens. As for what is seen beyond,
through the open part, it is a level and
richly-fertile and wooded country, as far
as the Welsh mountains, which enclose the
whole. At sunset, when the entire view
is at its brightest, there is one spot to
which the eye is attracted infallibly and at
once. At one end of the horseshoe, where
the bank is subsiding towards the levels,
there is a spreading farm-house, with a low,
long, diversified face, and a terraced garden,
sloping to the south. In the basin below
there are fields which look as soft as velvet,
some with a monstrous haystack in the
middle, and others with large companies of
cows, all at that hour tending towards the
gate, to go home for the night. That most
tempting place is Widow S.'s cheese-farm.
I proceeded to my call on her, satisfied that
in point of residence she might be the envy
of almost all England.

The place did not disappoint me in the
least on closer examination. The farm-yard
front is neat, spacious, and somewhat
picturesque,from its antiquity, if not particularly
beautiful. There is a little green in front,
kept inviolate by a sunk fence; and the area
of the yard is so large that the outhouses