30-inch drain is almost invariably two or three degrees colder than water taken from four feet, and as this latter is generally one or two degrees colder than water from a contiguous well several feet below, we can hardly avoid drawing the conclusion that the cold of evaporation has considerable influence at 30 inches, a much-diminished influence at four feet, and little or none below that depth. If the water-table is removed to the depth of four feet, when we have allowed 18 inches of attraction, we shall still have 30 inches of defence against evaporation; and we are inclined to believe that any prejudicial combined action of attraction and evaporation is thereby well guarded against. The facts stated seem to prove that less will not suffice. "So much on the score of temperature; but this is not all. Do the roots of esculents wish to penetrate into the earth—at least, to the depth of some feet? We believe that they do. We are sure of the brassica tribe, of grass, and clover. All our experience and observation deny the doctrine that roots only ramble when they are stinted of food; that six inches well manured is quite enough, better than more. Ask the Jerseyman; he will show you a parsnip as thick as your thigh, and as long as your leg, and will tell you of the advantages of 14 feet of dry soil. You will hear of parsnips whose roots descend to unsearchable depths. We will not appeal to the Kentucky carrot, which was drawn out by its roots at the antipodes; but Mr. Mechi’s, if we remember right, was a dozen feet or more. Three years ago, in a midland county, a field of good land, in good cultivation, and richly manured, produced a heavy crop of cabbages. In November of that year we saw that field broken into in several places, and at the depth of four feet the soil (a tenacious marl, fully stiff enough for brick-earth) was occupied by the roots of cabbage, not sparingly—not mere capillæ—but fibres of the size of small pack-thread. A farmer manures a field of four or five inches of free soil reposing on a retentive clay, and sows it with wheat. It comes up, and between the kernel and the manure, it looks well for a time, but anon it sickens. An Irish child looks well for five or six years, but after that time potato-feeding, and filth, and hardship, begin to tell. You ask what is amiss with the wheat, and you are told that when its roots reach the clay, they are poisoned. This field is then thorough-drained, deep, at least four feet. It receives again from the cultivator the previous treatment; the wheat comes up well, maintains throughout a healthy aspect, and gives a good return. What has become of the poison? We have been told that the rain water filtered through the soil has taken it into solution or suspension, and has carried it off through the drains; and men who assume to be of authority put forward this as one of the advantages of draining. If we believed it, we could not advocate draining.