JOUBNAL OF HOETICULTUKE AND COTTAGE GAEDENEE. 



of the Hamburglis. But even if they all pointed to the same 

 result they -would be inconclusive ; for suppose a perfectly 

 satisfactoi-y series of experiments made in Albany shows that 

 the Hamburghs gave more nutritive matter in a year relative 

 to the food they consumed, such would be perfectly conclusive 

 here in Albany, but would be anything but conclusive in Maine 

 or Minnesota, where the soil and climate and quality of food 

 were entii-ely different. 



"I have said," he then goes on, "that such an experiment 

 would be conclusive for Albany, but it would tell us nothing 

 about the production of meat. It may be a fact that Ham- 

 burghs in Albany will give a greater return in eggs for the food 

 consimied than the Brahmas, but it by no means follows they 

 will give the gi'eatest amoimt of meat ; it is vei-y likely it wiE be 

 exactly the reverse. Now if this should turn out to be so, we 

 . should be obhged to strike a balance between the relative value 

 of meat on the one hand and eggs on the other. 



" And suppose that this last balance is stnick, we are not even 

 then sure that we know which is the most profitable breed. 

 Suppose we ascertain that the Black Spanish lays the largest 

 eggs, which is actually the case, and that they will lay as great 

 a weight for a given amount of food, as is probably the case — 

 still the Brahmas wiU be a more profitable breed for us to keep 

 than the Black Sj)anish ; for the latter lay their eggs in summer 

 when they are cheapest, and the Brahmas lay liberally in winter 

 when eggs are the highest in price. It may, then, turn out that 

 from this circumstance some breed will be more profitable to 

 keep than another, though that other really does give more eggs 

 and more meat for a given amount of food. 



" Even now, when we have found out as we suppose what is 

 really the most profitable breed for us, it may turn out that we 

 had better keep some other ; for it may not be possible for us to 

 keep that profitable breed at aU. Suppose you find that the 

 Game is, aU things considered, the best fowl, giving the most 

 eggs and meat for a given amount of food, and producing them 

 at the season when they can be sold at the highest prices ; now, 

 if you are so situated that your fowls must be kept within a 

 hmited space, you cannot keep these best and most profitable 

 fowls at aU, for one of the first conditions of success with the 

 Game is a wide run, all their good quaUties being marred by 

 confinement; but you may keep Brahmas or Houdaus in your 

 limited space, for they are not much inclined to ramble." 



I have drawn so freely on Mr. Gould that I have left no room 

 for remarks of my own ; but his are so masterly in their treat- 

 ment of the subject that I do not regret it, and must leave the 

 rest of what I have to say for a future paper. Some may think 

 no more is needed, but that after this lucid exposition of the 

 elements of the prol)lem they can answer for themselves the 

 question we have proposed as well as I can do it for them. Many 

 doubtless wiU do bo. All I have to say is, so much the better.— 

 L. WniGHT. 



DOECHESTER SHOW UNDER TWO ASPECTS— 



IN RAIN AND IN SUNSHINE. 



Xo. 1.— In Heavy Eais. 



The Bath and "R'est of England Show is the prettiest show 

 during the whole year. I use the word prettiest advisedly. 

 Others, as the Eoyal, may be larger and gi-ander, but then it 

 does not cater for all tastes — as, for instance, no poultry and 

 Pigeons are to be seen there. Again, winter shows of poultry 

 are, of course, the best ; but a tent show, grass below and canvas 

 and flags above, is much prettier doubtless. Then the Coimcil 

 of the Bath and West of England seem always to choose pretty 

 places for their exhibition. I saw it at WeUs with the quaint 

 cathedral lying below, twice at clean farmer-loving Salisbury, 

 once on Durdham Down, CUfton, two years ago at pretty Taun- 

 ton, and now at historic and antiquarian Dorchester. I said 

 the Cotmcil cater for all tastes, I scarcely know whether more 

 for man's than for woman's— Honiton lace, textile arts, flowers, 

 pet ponies, light can-iages for the latter ; for the former, horses, 

 cattle, machinery ; and for both an infinite number of things 

 useful and interesting. Then, somehow, west of England has 

 its special advantages — softer air, antique unmanufacturing 

 towns, and richer foUage. The peripatetic nature of the Bath 

 and 'West of England is a mercy likewise to all who write about 

 it, for though much must be similar within the tents, yet out- 

 side each time there is a difference— a benefit to us scribes. 



" The rain— it raineth every day," is, I see, the commence- 

 ment of a leader in a London daily paper, and no wonder. 

 Wednesday night, glass going down, but surely no more rain- 

 it cannot be. Thursday, my only possible dav for Dorchester : 

 rain undoubted, but it cannot continue, only '" the pride of the 

 morning." At the Bath and West of England Show it never 

 rains. I have hidden under the tents from the blazing sun and 

 there been stifled, but I have never been rained on ; besides, a 

 ride in a raUway, especiaUy if a long one, is much pleasanter 'in 

 ram than in too much heat. There are happv times when we 

 each can say, " My bosom's lord sits lightly on his throne," 

 and we wiU not anticipate anything even in the least decree 



uncomfortable. Such was my feeling on Thursday morning 

 last. A wet walk to the station : never mind, I had the best of 

 company — two waterproof-covered merry httle girls, who de- 

 clared " they liked nothing so much as a walk in the rain." 

 Once in my carriage, before me sat a rosy-faced, blue-eyed, 

 middle-aged man, a gentleman farmer no doubt, and, as he 

 proved, a Wiltshire farmer — just a fit companion to a Wiltshire 

 rector ; and capital company he was, for he was going to the 

 Show of course. 



The rain — well, heavy rather ; but never mind, it looks lighter. 

 We shall reach Dorchester at noon, and that is the time for 

 clearing up. We did reach Dorchester at noon — and how it 

 rained I Aran and a nish at the station through rain above 

 and 3 inches of water below to get into a covered vehicle — a very 

 poor one, as it proved, a break with an extempore canvas top 

 and calico curtains. '* Two miles to the show-yard, sir." N.B. 

 — Miles are very short in measurement on such occasions, the 

 reason being to enlarge the fare. Oh, how it rained ! Surely 

 it had never rained at Dorchester for many months, to come 

 down in this steady torrent. Peeping through the curtains at 

 the driver's back, I see we are in a town of avenues. Idiot 

 Englishmen to plant avenues in such a wet climate ! N.B. — 

 My bosom's lord did not now sit lightly on his throne, for my 

 spirits sank with sodden feet. We enter, I see, a long narrow 

 street with garlands from pole to pole on the sides, aU drenching 

 wet, and flags hanging from windows and across the street. 

 Miserable flags, flopping, not flapping, and floating in a breeze. 

 Unhappy flags, trying to run into small compass and hide them- 

 selves ; wet comers catching up and sticking — poor, abbreviated, 

 wretched poles and bunting. "We pass, I presume, a Town Hall : 

 it may be a nice building, but evergreens soaked with rain do 

 not improve any building. The miserable conductor leaves his 

 post on the step for a minute, and I see down the long street 

 we have just passed through, and I see not one human being, 

 but a forest of wet umbreUas with human legs staggering under 

 them. We go on and enter another avenue — of Elms this time, 

 but not such fine trees as our Wiltshire Ehns. The trees only 

 add to our misery, for the torrent becomes a series of water- 

 spouts as the rain, broken and turned by some branches, pours 

 through between others. Another peep through the curtains 

 behind the driver, and I see a rising ground — a park no doubt, 

 some large tents, and, standing high above everything, some 

 agricultural machines. This park, like the long street, is covered 

 with a wondrous growth of that large mushroom, Agaricus um- 

 brellaensis. Not a human being is visible, but the Agarici 

 umbrellaenses seem, strange to say, in motion. A halt amid 

 pools of mud half way up to the axletrees ; we descend into a 

 mud bath, pass the cUcking turnstiles, and buy from a half- 

 drowned boy (deceased now, doubtless), a damp catalogue. 

 The one hope on which I rested was that this, the show-yard — 

 Kingston Park, I believe — had a porous subsoil. Tliis hope 

 lingered, but now left me. The mud oozed through the dank 

 grass ; the grass, soon ti"odden-in, wholly disappeared, and 

 around the entrances of the tents the ground became like a 

 cowyard in winter. I go at once to the refreshment tent, feel- 

 ing that to be fortified within might lessen the peril from the 

 damp without. The careful and attentive keepers of the re- 

 freshment booth had httered the floor deep with straw, which 

 was like a damp sponge, and from which the water issued at 

 each step. The rain came through the canvas roof. I sat on 

 a damp form, but had the best of fare and the most careful 

 attendance. 



Making for the Arts' building, as it was a wooden erection I 

 fotmd it " choke full," and a struggling, slipping, dripping 

 crowd in vain seeking to enter. 



Then to the poultry tent ; I love that tent, it is an acquaint- 

 ance of ten years' standing. How often have I admired its 

 splendid proportions, and counted its fourteen pretty Uttle flags ! 

 With difficulty I enter, and what an atmosphere ! Fortunately 

 the English lower orders do not eat garHc. It is the cheap day, 

 and 8,.5O0 people are at the Show, chiefly of the lower classes, and 

 jolly and good-natured, if a trifle vulgar, are they all. I was 

 jammed tight, and then jolted onward. Sometimes I saw a 

 Spanish cock's face, at other times a gleam of a taU, but class 

 unknown, as the sight was momentary. If the poor poultry 

 could have spoken, they would, I am sure, have said with 

 Milton — 



" Fit audience let us find though few," 



for the crowd were there from necessity not inclination ; they 

 had no love of poultry or Pigeons, but a strong wish to avoid 

 that continuous downpour. Now and then the lads took to 

 imitating the Cochins crowing, which seemed to astound many. 

 Once driven near a Pigeon's pen by the surging of the crowd, a 

 woman noticing the tares inside, said, " Lor ! they feed the 

 poor things on peppercorns !" Much amusement seemed to be 

 caused by the many prizes. "Here be another first prize." 

 "Why, bless us, here's another." Wedged up beside Mr. Hinton's 

 beautiful first-prize Polish hens, five gigghng seiwant girls, each 

 with a chignon — mark the chignon ! — went into fits of laughter at 

 the topknots, as if the hens had not more right to them than they 



