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JOUBNAL Off HOBTICULTUBE AND COTTAGE GABDENEB. [ December as, 186*. 



I was very pleased to hear lately that in my county there is 

 a strong desire to give to all lahourers permanently working on 

 a farm the addition of a good-sized garden to their present cot- 

 tages. This is well ; a garden is an ameliorator, it blesses him 

 that cultivates, it gives not only a pleusant addition to a meal, 

 but it gives pleasure in the cultivating to the cultivator. I like 

 to see the hoe-handle worn smooth and polished ; I like to see 

 the spade bright as a looking-glass, both spade and hoe so 

 worn by a cottager in his own garden. There is a charm about 

 one's own ; the little child says of its tiny garden, and says 

 with delight, " It is my very own." 



I am further glad to see that village horticultural shows are 

 on the increase. The school is the right place for the exhi- 

 bition, and as I know from being preseut, such gatherings are 

 promoters of good. A harvest festival and horticultural show 

 do nicely combined, the fruit of the garden and fruit of the field 

 axe ripe at the same time. At one such village show I noticed 

 au old epitaph-looking card standing above a plate of Onions, 

 its wording ran thus— 



" Turn; is OruiiAr.n, 

 Under'Tound." 



I am glad to hear friend Thomas is above ground, aud that his 

 Onions only are under ground. I wish I could see a Grape 

 Vine on every cottage — the Sweetwater will ripen seven years 

 out of eight — there would then be a drop of wine to help to 

 keep Christmas with. Do not smile at English-made wine ; 

 why, in olden days even in the fenny Isle of Ely thousands of 

 gallons were made yearly. 



Next, poultry. I am told the fowls did not look so well at 

 Birmingham as in old days of a cock and two hens. Of course 

 the-; did not. Gallant gentlemen always show to most advan- 

 tage in the presence of ladies, and ladies look their best in the 

 presence of gentlemen; dividing them is a mistake. How un- 

 happy the ladies look inside the "ladies' carriage" on a railway! 

 I hope our differences of opinion have been expressed cour- 

 ly and kindly this year. I think they have; and though 

 we have been at " Newmarket," there has been no jockeying. 

 A frieud <A mine was at the same school with an American 

 boy ; my friend was a big fellow, and he chanced to pelt a stone 

 or two at young Jonathan, who. given ever to tall talk, ran off 

 to the master, exclaiming, " Sirre, Sine, Smith, sen., has been 

 hurling rocks at me." Now, our missiles have been but little 

 pebbles, not rocks, let them now be only snowballs. (N.B. — 

 Don't put a stone in the middle.) 



By the way, let not that nun v.ho put that needle into the 

 comb of the Hamburgh hen. bring his nose near my hand when 

 I have a needle in it, that's all. 



I have this year been on the watch for instances of pet love, 

 and will record a few. I have been in a room where lay, j 

 propped by pillows, a great invalid, one for ; ears a prisoner, ;■• t 

 cheerful and content. Doubtless, high principle was at the 

 bottom of this ; in a lower sense there was something else. ' 

 Pets were around in the form of various finches. Each had its 

 day for exercise, each had its name ; the habits of each were ! 

 watched with interest, and some were very tame. The pets 

 added to. if they did not cause, the cheerful demeanour — they 

 solaced the sick one. 



I will give another instance. One of the saddest funerals I 

 ever saw was that of an old labourer. He was very old , and he 

 and his wife were a fond couple ; but, alas ! they had never 

 had a child, and when he died only the wife followed. She had 

 no son's arm to lean on ; she walked after the husband of her 

 youth, her middle life, her old age, quite alone. I have valued 

 my children more than ever since that day. Well, my old 

 friend, left quite alone, wanted something to love. A neigh- 

 bour gave her a duckling, which, not being strong, fared ill with 

 the rest. She was very fond of it, declared it knew her ; she 

 took it in her basket when she went out, declaring change of 

 air did it good. One day the poor bird looked up and died. She 

 has a hen for a pet now, and the motherly old Cochin and the 

 old widow axe great friends. 



Yet anothex story of pet love. I saw in my village lane one 



ier afternoon a Bantam cock which was tethered. A 



travelling van was near, some kind of show, I fancy. I said to 



the woman, "Is that your biro ? " •'■ Yes, sir, and I put him 



out fox a little air, and will you look at my chickens ? " Taking 



i a cloth-covered hamper she displayed a young brood 



and the hen. The hen had laid, sat, and hatched in that 



| or while the van was moving from place to place. 



I would say to lovexs of poultry. Mind you keep good birds, 

 the keep of well-bred fowls costs uo more than that of bad 

 ones. Study this subject, it will interest you, and no longer ' 



keep mongrels. I would say the same in regard to Pigeons. I 

 like to visit at a house where pets are kept ; there is then some- 

 thing to look at after breakfast, something to criticise and ad- 

 mire- If there be a well-kept garden also, there is, of course, 

 a vast additional source of pleasure both to guest and host. 



We write to instruct and gratify lovers of gardens and poultry, 

 and some who love, yet have neither, read our pages. Nature 

 plays odd tricks. I knew a London clerk, born lame, very 

 lame, who rode to his office, sat there, and rode home again". 

 Yet what was his hobby ? Strange to say, it was cricket. He 

 never held a bat at cricket, yet he delighted in books on cricket, 

 and when he asked for a holiday it was to attend a cricket 

 match. So I know ladies who love reading about gardens, al- 

 though they have none; and, I doubt not, "our Journal" 

 gives pleasure not only to those who have, but those who have 

 not either garden, or poultry-yard, or pet. This periodical pro- 

 motes geniality, I trust, and tends to keep up all the year the 

 feeling we all have at Christmas. 



There is a part of Kingsley's "Alton Locke," which I often 

 think of. It is where Alton, when a boy, a London boy, de- 

 scribes himself listening in bed of a morning to the country 

 waggons which brought in to the great city flowers, and fruit, 

 and vegetables. He heard them come rumbling in before day- 

 break, or soon after ; and as he lay and listened, he wondered 

 and wondered what sort of places those were from whence came 

 the fruits and the flowers. So I often wonder and wonder where 

 this Journal goes. I know where it comes from ; I know the 

 old London house in old Fleet Street, not far from Temple 

 Bar. I know the room where the Editors sit, all unmindful of 

 the roar of the traffic below them, their thoughts occupied with 

 furnishing instruction for our readers. I know where some of 

 the contributors live. I know a gardener's cottage, a very 

 pretty one, which looks down, at least the great nouse near it 

 looks down, as Horace Walpole said of it, " like the sentinel of 

 Kent." I know a country surgeon's home whence issues many 

 a poultry paper. I know, of course I do. my own quiet study 

 with its view of church, and shrubbery, and Elms clasped by 

 Ivy. I know whence come some of the contents of the Journal. 

 But where do all the Numbers go ? I know some cross the 

 Channel to France, some another Channel to Ireland, some drop 

 down among Welsh mountains, many reach Scotland, not a 

 few remind of "the old country" exiles in far-off lands, and 

 they aio scattered all oyer Kngland ; but I should like to peep 

 into the houses of the readers, see them break the covers, cut 

 the leaves, and begin to read. I fancy I should see grave 

 fathers with two chins, and round shiny bald heads, with gold 

 eye-glasses held over pleasant eyes, who on Wednesday morn- 

 ings put aside tin' Tim -. W*d politics, and leam about their 

 much-loved Conifers ; and comely matrons who read about 

 flowers ; and girls and bojs who want to know more about their 

 pets. Well, I like to fancy that these good people like us and 

 our labours. I fancy that .humble people though we be, yet 

 we fulfil our little mission of making life pleasanter, making 

 country homes brighter, and town homes less town-like. I — 

 forgive the " I " — shall be pleased if I can in any way imitate 

 Christinas in promoting kindliness and geniality. — WmTSHTBE 

 Bectok. 



VINE i:;nPJ>El!S, AND HOW TO MAKE THEM. 



My article under the above heading, in the Journal of the 

 lGth of October, seems to have slightly disturbed the equa- 

 nimity of three of your correspondents. One thinks me rather 

 homoeopathic in my mode of prescribing food for my Vines, 

 another thinks my recommendations very complicated and ex- 

 pensive, and a third finds fault with the stratified system of 

 making Vine borders, and expresses his astonishment in the 

 following rather serious strain: " Allow me to ask Mr. Wills 

 what benefit he expects to derive from having the bones aud 

 lime rubbish arranged in layers betwixt every 9 inches of soil, 

 unless it is to coax the roots down to such awful depths. Would 

 his object not be gained by just mixing them in the usual way ? 

 I do not think the stratified system is in accordance with 

 sound practice, or any recognised theory." 



I have quoted the letter of " J. S.," Wortley, in extenso, and I 

 assure him that none of my articles are founded on theory, but 

 are simply descriptive of what I practise. My thanks are due 

 to him for asking this question. I am sorry I omitted giving 

 my reason for arranging my Vine borders on the stratified 

 system. In writing an article from memory one often finds 

 many important matters left out after reading it carefully 

 through. 



