November 14, 1865. ] JOURNAL OP HORTICULTUl^E AND COTTAGE GAEDENEB. 



413 



the heather in bloom, but the trees were perfect. Wild scenery, 

 indeed, exactly tbiit described in Kingsley'a " Winter Garden." 

 No winter, as to folia;;e, reaches this place, for the firs are clad 

 spring, sunnncr, autumn, and winter too. 



Apparently in the midst of a fir wood a space has been 

 cleared, and on tlio south slope of hill the pretty modern man- 

 sion calldd Chiklown Hall, red brick cornered with stone, has 

 been built ; a hill behind and to the east keeps oiX the wind. 

 Childown — well, .-ill the chill is outside, for the reception I 

 got was the reverse of a cold one. The much-needed lunch 

 came first, then out to the poultry. First, those behind the 

 house, where awaits, cornbasket in liand, master's man, to 

 whom I am duly introduced. When ho heard I was coming he 

 had said, " I wish them chickens that the pointer pup killed last 

 March had been here for ' Wiltshiuk Kectoii' tosee." This 

 I found was a sore subject, almost a heart-brcakinf; one ; the 

 pointer pup, the wretch, had worked his way early in the night 

 into the chicken-house, and there, hour after hour, ho had 

 mangled and mouthed away until thirty chickens were no moro 

 — the best of course, for he was a puppy of taste. 



Well, a host of Light Brahmas are around mo, some prize 

 birds, others not. In the midst is the largest cock Mr. I'ares has 

 ever bred, and named by him " Samson," the hero of a hundred 

 (show) figlits. I watch these birds, I stoop down and bring my 

 face level with theirs, for that is the best way to inspect poultry. 

 I turn round, and within a wired enclosure, withroosting-houscs 

 made of furze (these looked in character, for the wild country 

 was open to us as well as around us), I note some of the 

 chickens of this year, not equal, I am told, to those the puppy 

 killed. Chickens that meet with untimely ends, like kings who 

 die in childhood, are always perfect. In another pen are Black 

 Ducks and Bromi Call Ducks, one very lame, quite a cripple 

 'and very spiteful, '■ Metis curva in corporc ciirvo.^' 



We walk on further, no fear of wetting one's feet, for the 

 soil is sandy, " a hungry sand," said the gardener. We find 

 another fowl-structure, half hidden among firs. One hen I 

 pronounced superb, large, full-chested, beautiful to behold. 

 Strange it seemed to find these choice cultivated birds in so 

 wild a spot. On still further, " To the monastery," said Mr. 

 Pares. I start ! " As an English gentleman I wish to be 

 thoroughly obliging, but as to visiting a monastery — no, please ; 

 I have scruples, I do not like monks, I am a clergyman of the 

 Church of Engl.and, besides, I have a wife and family." " Oh ! 

 I only call it the monastery because cockerels alone live there." 



On my way I admire two Bretonne cows, and would have 

 petted a lad's pony, but he, the pony, scorned it, as doubtless 

 the lad would also have done. Over fields, for some part of 

 the district has been made into pasture land, I see many pul- 

 lets wandering. " There are the monks," said Mr. Pares, and 

 I see, perhaps, fifty cockerels, of large growth, walking out of 

 a rustic house made of rough fir poles. The monks come to 

 call, for monk-like they love eating, and master's man is a 

 walking refectory, as they well know. Gently, no driving, 

 please, let them come naturally over ; drive them, and they 

 stretch up their heads and put themselves out of shape. Never 

 drive fowls, especially Cochins or Brahmas. " This is the best 

 bird," say I, and he is named " Rector," out of compliment to 

 somebody I know. We now bend our steps back towards home, 

 see some more Brahmas, one " Gohath," Sampson's son ; then 

 three cocks separated in different compartments, one a French- 

 man, and not popular with master's man, who is true English, 

 not less so because he is, like his master, a poultry enthusiast. 



" Why, what have you got there under wire at the side of 

 the house? Oh! I see, Andalusians." " Yes, my man would 

 call them for a long time ' Master's delusions.'" Neat-looking 

 birds they are, the hens especially — slate-coloured, quaker-like 

 matrons — a new variety of fowls for a change. And lo ! in the 

 next enclosure are some Silkies, funny little fellows, beautiful in 

 their ugliness like Scotch ten'iers. Their shape shows eastern 

 origin, resembling that of other eastern fowls, and, passing 

 strange, their having silky hair for feathers, they can scarcely 

 be said to raoult. These are the pets of the lady of Childown, 

 and right proud she is that they have begun a distinguished 

 career by a recent " highly commended." The Silky makes a 

 nice lady's pet, being tame, willing to live in small s]iace, and 

 its neat form is pleasing. However, I should not like to eat 

 one of the " blue noses ;" if obliged, I should close my eyes. 



So I have seen all the fowls, and a goodly nimiber they are. 

 Next a practical word. I set aside at once all disputes about 

 the origin of Brahmas. They are fowls which will stand their 

 ground because of their utility, and that is the right basis ; 

 they are excellent winter layers and not bad eating. I would 



say that the two kinds, Light and Dark, should never compete 

 against each other, they should each have a separate class at 

 shows ; this would be fair to the breeders of both varieties. 

 Then, too, the Light should bo really light ; no suspicion of 

 a cross shown by a patchy plumage. Let Light bo light, and 

 Dark be dark. As to the Light, there seem to be three special 

 difficulties in their breeding— to keep the comb right, to avoid 

 patches on the back, and not to get a yellow tinge over the 

 whole bird, which greatly spoils the pearly hue, but is apt to 

 come on in old age. Brahmas are useful birds, and like Cochins 

 tame, and attractive in many ways. Breed them large and to 

 a feather if you can. 



There remained a little time before we needed to go in-doors, 

 and like many a day in late autumn, the weather had improved. 

 I ascend a liiil, walking through ranks of red fir stems. On the 

 top I stand panting and admiring ; I feed upon the view ; I 

 enter into their feelings, of whom it has been said— 

 *'On a fair prospect some have looked 



And felt as I have hearti them say, 



.\s if the moviiiK time had been 



A thing as stedfast an the scene 



On which they gazed themselves away." 



■What a wild view ! And again I exclaim, " And so near Lon- 

 don !" To the extreme right lie Virginia Water and Windsor 

 forest, but too far away to come much into view ; then nearer 

 is Chobham common, where our poor soldiers played at being 

 in the tented field, soon in the Crimea to be exchanged for 

 work in which was no play. Some slight remains of the camp 

 still exist — viz., ruins of earthworks. Beyond the common lies 

 the vUUage of Chobham, where Bishop Wilson, of Calcutta, was, 

 I in his youth, curate to Richard Cecil. Then further still are 

 the Frimley ridges. Before me, and to my left, in dim dis- 

 tance, stretches the whole line of the Hog's-back. On the 

 nearer hiUs the outlines of buildings are to be traced — viz., 

 " The Dramatic College," called by the poor the " Eheumatie 

 College," and an orphan asylum, and others, while nearer is the 

 wild-heath-clad valley, broken up by knolls. Nearer are Scotch 

 firs with breaks through them, showing bits of the valley, 

 while close to me is a small lake. I stray round in front of 

 Childown ; I wish I had been here when the heather was in 

 bloom. I find a goat tethered, for no enclosures are here, and 

 she might wander away for miles. Poor nanny ! though from 

 another country, she must surely feel at home here. But I 

 must hasten in, for the evening chills are coming on, and the 

 horizon is narrowing minute by minute, while the cheerful 

 blaze, throwing its brightness upon wall and ceiling and window, 

 invites us to walk in-doors. A loll on a couch, and a cup of tea — 

 'tis five o'clock. Oh ! that blessed cup of tea, the best invention, 

 a lady's it was, this twenty years, for those who dine late, for 

 late dining takes away that real enjoyment of tea which early 

 diners have; warming, cheering, five-o'clock cup of tea! 

 Shall I need to add more ? A dinner followed, at which neither 

 teeth nor tongue was idle, the former we employed in eating a 

 Brahma, the latter in tallung of their living merits. I am 

 bidden to invert the silver cup at my right hand before it ie 

 filled with ale ; I fear some conjuring trick, but on the bottom 

 of the cup I only read of the triumphs of Brahmas. 



I scarcely need say I thoroughly enjoyed my visit, not less 

 because we'had a drive the next morning, and another in the 

 afternoon to "Virginia Water station. So the wild picturesque 

 country remains fixed on my memory. I am asked, at parting, 

 to make another visit. I hope I may be able some day or other. 

 — Wiltshire Rector. 



GAME JUDGING. 



YocB correspondent "Old Cochin" seeks to enlarge the- 

 controversy on Game judging by introducing matters entirely- 

 foreign to the subject, and, while deprecating personalities, 

 affords strong proof of his disinterestedness by a violent attack 

 on the Birmingham Committee, and " a single individual " in 

 particular. " Old Cochin " appears to be completely au fait 

 on many matters connected with Birmingham, but being be- 

 yond the point at issue — " Game judging," it is not the inten- 

 tion of the writer to notice these at present ; however, as '' Old 

 Cochin " takes exception to the statement that the dissatisfac- 

 tion at the Game decisions last year was confined to cne or two 

 disappointed exhibitors, a few' remarks are necessary. Your 

 readers are aware that previously to the last two years, a cer- 

 tain pecuhar notoriety obtained at Birmingham in the Game 

 department, to which your correspondents " Old Cochin " and 

 "An Exhibitor" seem to wish to return, relative to which. 



