fire, in a flat and shallow warming-pan of
iron. Inside the pan, a piece of machinery
connected with the mill-work, and crookedly
resembling the hand of a clock, which
indicates the hours only, keeps moving slowly
round and round, stirring the powdered oil-
cake, and preventing it from burning. The
powder, when sufficiently warmed throughout,
is again bagged, wedged, and squeezed,
till it has parted with every drop of oil that
can be extorted from it, by foul means or fair.
The cakes are then mostly troubled no
further; but are set up to dry, to be
subsequently sold to fatten cattle, though they
now and then return to their mother earth
in the humble guise of powdery manure.

You must have heard of " cold drawn
castor-oil "; you now a little understand
what it means. The heat employed to aid in
liberating the oil from the seeds containing it,
also sets loose some other particles, which,
for either medicinal or culinary purposes, it
is desirable to leave behind. Hence the
advantage of " drawing it mild."

The final treatment of the oil is its
clarification, which is more generally performed
by the oil-merchant than by the miller. Seed-
oils, on escaping from their troubles of the
press, always contain a portion of mucilage,
colouring matter, and resinous principles,
which are all native to and latent in the seed,
and which cause it to have a particular smell,
taste, and appearance. These are partially
got rid of, by keeping the oil for a considerable
time in cool cellars, and so allowing the foreign
matter, in suspension, to be precipitated. But
this period of mere repose is insufficient to
complete the object in view; the oil is still
charged with a variety of ingredients which
render it unfit for many purposes, and
especially for burning in lamps.

M. Thénard made known a successful
method of purifying Colza oil. Having put
the oil into a cask that would contain double
the quantity, he then pours in very gradually,
stirring it well up at the same time, concentrated
sulphuric acid, to the amount of two
hundredth-parts of the oil measured by weight.
The agitation of the fluid is continued, till the
whole liquid mass acquires a greenish tint.
After standing for four-and-twenty hours,
during which the sulphuric acid lays hold of
all the foreign matter, pure water equal in
bulk to two-thirds the quantity of oil, is then
added. The whole is violently stirred together,
till the combined liquids have a milky appearance.
Two or three weeks' rest, in a chamber
of moderate and equable temperature, are
requisite for the clarification of the oil, and
for the formation of a dark deposit at the
bottom of the cask. The oil, which floats
uppermost, is then drawn off by means of a
tap, and runs into tubs that have their
bottoms pierced with holes lightly plugged with
tufts of cotton or carded wool. After this
last filtration, the oil is perfectly clarified, and
is fit for the service of the fashionable lamp-
man, or even of the more fastidious lighthouse-
keeper.

Colza-oil lamps may be all very well; but
they by no means supersede what I
(individually) hold to be the only unobjectionable
mode of private-room illuminaition—a pair, or
more, of brilliany wax-lights. Lamps, as yet,
are far from perfect.

THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN.

AFTER THE BOARS.

I HAVE been all my life fond of field
sports. It was not, therefore, without a thrill
of pleasure that I heard my door open at
five o'clock in the morning, though it was
January, and a servant come stealthily in to
light my fire. It was a luxury to watch
him with half-closed eyelids as he performed
his task, and the wood began to blaze and
crackle, and throw a cheerful flickering light
on the glass and polished oak with brass
fittings, which formed the becoming furniture
of my antiquated chamber.

A good fire takes away all discomfort from
that terrible getting up work, and whenever
you want to go anywhere early of a winter's
morning, it is a great mistake to start
cold.

Of course, when I was dressed and down
stairs, somebody was not ready, and we had
to wait for him. We were a hunting party
that would have astonished Melton, and made
even Epping open its eyes. Fancy an assemblage
of gentlemen in grey coats, much too small
for them, with bright green baize collars,
and racing caps of black velvet.
Over their trowsers—mostly of some broad
check pattern—are drawn immense boots
turned down at the top after the fashion of
those worn at the Victoria theatre in the part
of "Will Watch, that bold smuggler." Round
their waists, round their arms, round their
shoulders, are slung a multitude of useless
things by gay-coloured straps and cords.
Impossible horns; cat-skin muffs; powder flasks
of the most ingenious style of fastening that
can never be got to open when wanted, and
holding each a pound and a half of powder;
shot belts and bags without measures, leaving
the charge at the discretion of the wearer;
enormous game pouches (we are going boar-
hunting!); and, lastly, guns that look
anything but like business, with straps of bright-
coloured webbing to carry them by. As for
my own costume, it is evident that it was
looked upon with a sort of well-bred disposition
to make allowances, and, indeed, they are
needed, as I have on a blue boating coat, too
short in all directions, but borrowed for the
occasion; a pair of linen gaiters that look odd
enough buckled over my trowsers, and,
considering the flimsy appearance of which, I
inwardly hope the thorns may not be very
strong in this country; a cambric shirt, a
black silk waistcoat, and a Paris hat, bran
new and shiny.