nd of rushes
medicated and ready for use, will cost three shillings. If men that keep
bees will mix a little wax with the grease, it will give it a
consistency, and render it more cleanly, and make the rushes burn longer;
mutton-suet would have the same effect.

A good rush, which measured in length two feet four inches and a half,
being minuted, burnt only three minutes short of an hour; and a rush of
still greater length has been known to burn one hour and a quarter.

These rushes give a good clear light. Watch-lights (coated with tallow),
it is true, shed a dismal one, "darkness visible;" but then the wick of
those have two ribs of the rind, or peel, to support the pith, while the
wick of the dipped rush has but one. The two ribs are intended to impede
the progress of the flame and make the candle last.

In a pound of dry rushes, avoirdupois, which I caused to be weighed and
numbered, we found upwards of one thousand six hundred individuals. Now
suppose each of these burns, one with another, only half an hour, then a
poor man will purchase eight hundred hours of light, a time exceeding
thirty-three entire days, for three shillings. According to this account
each rush, before dipping costs 1/33 of a farthing, and 1/11 afterwards.
Thus a poor family will enjoy five and a half hours of comfortable light
for farthing. An experienced old housekeeper assures me that one pound
and a half of rushes completely supplies his family the year round, since
working people burn no candles in the long days, because they rise and go
to bed by daylight.

Little farmers use rushes much in the short days, both morning and
evening, in the dairy and kitchen; but the very poor, who are always the
worst economists, and therefore must continue very poor, buy a halfpenny
candle every evening, which in their blowing open rooms does not burn
much more than two hours. Thus have they only two hours' light for their
money instead of eleven.

While on the subject of rural economy, it may not be improper to mention
a pretty implement of housewifery that we have seen nowhere else; that
is, little neat besoms which our foresters make from the stalks of the
_polytricum commune_, or great golden maidenhair, which they call silk-
wood, and find plenty in the bogs. When this moss is well combed and
dressed, and divested of its outer skin, it becomes of a beautiful bright-
chestnut colour; and, being soft and pliant, is very proper for the
dust