4M 



JODENAL OF HORTICULTUBB AND COTTAGE GABDENEB. 



[ Jnso 5, 1806. 



POULTRY, BEE, and HOUSEHOLD CHRONICLE- 



MY HAMBURGH CHICKENS. 



It has often been remarked by foreipners, tbat Englishmen 

 are alvrays talking abont the weather, tl.o said foreigners im- 

 plying, perhaps, by this remark, that \.e have nothing eke 

 to talk about. I bold that this is not true in the least degree ; 

 we have many things to talk about ; but why should wo not 

 talk about the weather? It is always changing, so that weather 

 news is often the latest news, and it is good manners to speak 

 abont the most recent intelligence — naj-, instructive too. I 

 intend, then, to talk about the weather as long as I live, unless 

 the climate alter and we have si.\ months winter and then six 

 months summer, when, save twice a-year, there wonld be no 

 weather news at all. Well, we have now beautiful spring 

 weather with us, though frosts at night somewhat retard the 

 progress of vegetation. However, let that pass ; the days are 

 lovely, so we will bo content. Now, do the good people in 

 Madeira or Italy, who have continuous settled weather, enjoy 

 a tine day as much as we do, to whom it is but a passing 

 guest? I doubt if they do. So give me for this and a 

 thousand other reasons showery, changeable, chilly England. 

 Oh, the intense delight that a warm spring day affords me ! 

 The east wind gone at last, and again I dare to stroll ; again 

 the sun warms me as I walk leisurely, very leisurely, among 

 my roses, picking the grubs out of the delicate rolled-up 

 leaves. I regard a rose grub, or caterpillar, of whatever 

 colour, a monster of no ordinary kind — a very fiend, a Satan 

 in Paradise. My roses ! I like to have a specimen glass on 

 either side of me as I write, with, say, a Charles LefebvTC 

 in one, and a Senatenr Vaisse in the other, or a Cloth of 

 Gold and a Jules Margottin — and these beauties attacked 

 by grubs ! But to retiu-n to the weather subject, and the 

 intense pleasure given to us this glorious springtide. I hear 

 again the soft twitter of the little birds, the cawing of the 

 rooks. There, yes, there is the blackcap back again in the 

 shrubberies near me, and I hear the cheery note of the linnets 

 just beyond my hedge. But not alone is the ear filled with 

 delights. There is the world of eye as well as ear. Oh, 

 the delicate green of the hedges, the stately horse chestnuts 

 with their fan-like leaves and candelabra-like blossoms ! Then 

 there is the brown-green of the half-opened oak leaves ; but 

 I saw a rarer sight to-day — it was a walnut tree of many 

 years' growth, consequently of great size, the half-opened leaves 

 abundant and of a darker brown, far darker than that of the 

 oak, and two finer elms stood behind it ; and how the two 

 varieties of trees showed off the beauty of each other ! Much 

 pleasure may be had from watching varieties of foliage. Thus 

 my walnut will presently delight me from the yellow tint of 

 its leaves. Every tree has blossomed well here — crabs in this 

 part one mass of bloom ; apple trees with leaves hidden by 

 blossom. Everv-thing is looking spring-like except a wicked- 

 looking old ash at the back of my church, which does not yet 

 show a leaf. Why should not the ash he exterminated where 

 better trees will grow ? 



But what about my chickens ? Why it was on my way to 

 Tisit them that I made all these remarks to myself. But for 

 those Hamburgh chickens of mine, I should not have got up 

 from my desk while in the middle of my next Sunday's ser- 

 mon. An old clergyman fond of his garden used to say, " I 

 thin my Grapes between the heads of my sermon." Can you 

 not fancy him doing it ? — the deeper the subject, the deeper 

 would go the scissors. Well, I like to have a stroll among my 

 chickens when the text is awkward to handle. But I ask 

 myself, Why do I take such pleasure in chickens year after 

 year? "Wretched little half-clad birds," says one who only 

 Ukes chickens nicely browned, or white and soft, with a pink 

 tongue between them. Scoffer ! thou art ignorant on the 

 subject, so be silent. But I have not answered my own 

 question, let me try to answer it. 



My pleasure has nothing to do with exhibition ambition, 

 for I never exhibit. Perhaps there is something in it of habit 

 and association, for I think of past years; but I think there 

 is more from the pleasure which looking at young things 

 always gives us. Thus, take the case of a boy going out in 

 life for the first time. How kind eyes watch him with interest, 

 and moist eyes look on him — not of relatives only and near 

 friends, when he bids good-bye, and is away into the great 

 world. Yes, it is the youth, the fact of youth and the hopes 

 connected with youth, that charm us. We were once young, 



wo liad high hopes. But, then, how uninteresting I fear w« 

 middle-aged folks must be. There is poetry in tie yonthfnl 

 locks, and in the silver beard; but only very plain prose in 

 the grizzled or semi-bald head. And so, very pUilosophieallj, 

 I have «ettled the point that I like chickens, because we aie 

 all fond of younjT things, and we love to watch them, being 

 hopeful of their future. To come now to lower things, and 

 to adopt most )ii'iperly a lower tone. I Uke to have eaoh 

 year at least one Irood of a variety of fowls which I have not 

 had before as chickens, or have not kept for a good many 

 years. I look at them with the eye of a naturalist as well aa 

 of a poultry-lover. I love to watch habits and mark dif- 

 ferences of character in different varieties — c. g., how different 

 is the Game chicken from the Cochin. 



This spring I am watching, thanks to Miss Emily Bcldou's 

 kindness, a brood of Silver-spangled Hamburghs. By-thA- 

 way, let me observe that the sitting of eggs, thirteen in nmn- 

 ber, came rattling by rail all the way from Yorksliire to Wilts, 

 a distance by said rail of at least two hundred miles. When I 

 unpacked them and put them under one of my kind, tame. 

 Cochin hens, my man remarked — " Well ! purty lucky yon'U 

 be if you get half on 'em to hatch !'' " What !" said I, " do 

 you mean six chickens and a half?" " I mean six," said he 

 stolidly, not hurt the least by my qmzziug his mistake in 

 calculation. Well, I had eleven hatched, and all doing well — 

 one of the largest broods I was ever master of. So, my friends, 

 never fear baring eggs from a distance. At first my Ham- 

 burgh chickens were little balls of fluffy, smudgy white, patchy 

 and indistinct in colour ; but now, at a month's end, how the 

 spangles are coming out ! I admire the activity of the chickens, 

 aud the Hambuigh symmetry is beginning to bo seen — that 

 neat active form and Partridge-like head. See them lying down 

 in the sun by threes together, then on a sudden up go their 

 heads, and up aud away they go. I think the little pullets aie 

 handsomer than the cockerels. Query, Is it not so with Ham- 

 burghs through life ? I like my brood hen to be happy, and I 

 pity hens straining their necks through a wooden-barred coop 

 while the chickens are sporting afar ; in that case the poor 

 hen is, by change of hours, either too hot or too cold, pantiag 

 with open beak, or chilly in the shade, so I enclose a manure 

 heap with wire-netting. There is a Ledge all round which 

 affords shade, and, therefore, all are happy, hen and chicks, the 

 mother not able by wandering to tire out the chickens, but able 

 to be with them and scratch for and protect them. Then, 

 being a Cochin, she does not fly over the low fence. Through 

 or under the wire the chickens get into the garden, playing 

 bo-peep under the rhubarb leaves, tearing at the weeds ; and 

 how they like the pull at the grass ! new-cut grass is not half ao 

 agreeable to them. They appear to be kindly enough, honest, 

 respectable little birds, unless bits of meat are given them ; 

 then how they steal, how they pUfer, how they run and hide, 

 and swallow gluttonously and half chc'ke themselves ! yet as 

 all are guilty in turn none can upbraid another. To my 

 calm Cochins they are a capital contrast, being so active and 

 full of life. The other daj- down had come a young rook from 

 the rookery near, and squatting on his haunches he sat near 

 the chickens. What a child of wickedness he looked, blinking 

 in the sun — a sort of Nicholas the younger. I thought of 

 Milton, who describes Satan on the wall of Paradise, and says 

 of him, " He sat like a cormorant ;'' but like good Christians 

 with easy consciences, my Hamburgh chickens did not seem 

 to fear him. — Wiltshike Bectob. 



BEVERLEY EXHIBITION OF POULTRY AND 

 PIGEONS. 



For Terr many years past the repute of the Beverley Show has heen 

 great among ]K)nltry amateurs, and it nndottbtedly well descrrea their 

 j^ood opinion. The members of the Committee are mostly men of 

 preat experience in all matters appertaining to poultry, aud uutiring 

 iu their efforts to fultil to the very letter ever)- duty connected with the 

 management of a poultry show. The Show continues open only for 

 a single day, the birds are well cared for, and all are returned with 

 the most unvarjing punctuality by the first train on the following 

 morning. Again, the plate prizes are most unquestionably of the 

 absolute value they are represented to be. aud the cups of this year 

 are of as beautiful design as we have seen for many years past. The 

 Norfolk Rooms are all that could be widied for as regards the accom- 

 modation which they afford a poultry show ; the pens are those of 

 Turner, of Shcllield, and tlie exhibition of plants and flowers, held on 

 the adjacent jprounds of Charles Kcj-nard, Esq., all aid in enlifttizig 

 public favour. In this portion of the Show the bouquets of flowers 

 were an object of general admiration. 



