JOTJENAL OF HOBTIOTLTTTEE AND COTTAGE GAEDENEE. [ September 6, 1864. 



tell me that last week labouring within high-walled gardens 

 was something terrible to bear. What must this heat be in 

 Fleet Street ? even here it induces great idleness. Luther 

 tells a tale of a lazy monk too idle to say his prayers, and 

 who was accustomed to repeat the alphabet and then add, 

 " Take, Lord, these letters and put them together even as 

 thou wilt." Let us hope that he did this only in the dog 

 flays — I am fond of finding excuses for every one. Now, I 

 feel inclined instead of writing, to repeat the letters, and 

 ask the good genius that presides over " our Journal," to put 

 them together as he will, but in vain, 



** If you want a thing done you must do it yourself, John, ' 



says Longfellow. 



Now, if I could imagine any one (well there might be 

 some dear schoolboy fond of pets), who was kind enough to 

 relish, and remember with pleasure two former papers by 

 "Wiltshire Eector," entitled " Eecollections of an Old 

 Fancier," let such a kind individual be assured that there 

 are other recollections to come on in due time, besides Nos. 

 1 and 2. There always lies before me, on my study desk, a 

 slip of paper entitled "mems," and the first line of the 

 memoranda is this — "unbaptised children." Now, a little 

 slip of paper so entitled is in its turn filled up with various 

 items, used, and torn up to give place to another, to be in 

 its turn filled, used, and torn up. But each and every suc- 

 ceeding bit of paper is headed with " unbaptised children." 

 For why ? there are are always some to be baptised. So of 

 this "Eecollections of an Old Fancier," there will always be 

 some coming on. 



I went into Eabbits at an early age, too early, for like 

 many children's first pets, I fear my first pair of Eabbits 

 were starved. N.B. — Little children if they have pets given 

 to them, should also have a servant put in charge of them. 

 The first Eabbits died ; they came too soon to be appre- 

 ciated, a boon unvalued because premature. But in due 

 time, in the earliest of breeched days, pet fever set in. I 

 will tell you how it came on, what induced it, and how the 

 first symptoms showed themselves. Five-and-twenty years 

 ago, books for boys, really sensible books — were very few, 

 plenty of books of the moral tale kind, full of long words of 

 Latin derivation, written in the true Johnsonian jack -boot 

 style, unreadable and unintelligible to a boy. These were 

 what one's maiden aunts gave one on birthdays, and very 

 clean they remained all their days. Thorough jolly books, for 

 all boys are jolly, were rare indeed. There was dear old 

 " Eobinson Crusoe," to be sure ; but Capt. Mayne Eeid had 

 not then written, neither had Mr. Atkinson brought out 

 his " Boy Naturalists." I quote from memory, perhaps I 

 am not quite right in regard to the title. Neither, again, 

 did one's present-giving relatives and friends often come up 

 to the tune of a five-shilling book. One cantankerous old 

 gentleman, under an obligation to my father, did give me a 

 five-shilling book once, but it was an apple of Sodom, for on 

 opening the parcel it proved to be " Blair's Preceptor," 

 and I wished it far enough, for he said in his note, that he 

 expected me to read it (read a school book in play hours, 

 indeed !), and that he would examine me in it. Well, the 

 fates were propitious to me once when a boy, at any rate. 

 Friends coming from a neighbouring city actually brought a 

 copy of the then newly-issued "Boy's Own Book," price 

 eight shillings and sixpence — think of it, eight shillings and 

 sixpence ! I got it only by a shave, for it was intended for 

 my elder brother, but happily was considered too juvenile 

 for him, so it was to be my book, and he was to read the 

 " Scientific Eecreations." It was mine, my very own. I 

 have the precious volume now, and my own boys delight in 

 it. Well, henceforth, from that lucky day, that glorious 

 book was my library, my vade-mecum. It went out fishing 

 with me on summer half-holidays ; it cheered dreary No- 

 vember evenings. Oh ! blessed little square book, to a boy 

 well nigh inexhaustible. But the most delightful part to 

 me was " The Fancier," it made me a fancier, and I am a 

 fancier still. 



Singing birds you have heard about ; silkworms I cared not 

 for after the first essay ; but Eabbits, so com eatable by every 

 boy, and so great a source of delight, I did love. I began 

 humbly, but improved in time. My spare hours were em- 

 ployed in making hutches out of old boxes, and I looked 

 with pride upon my long row of them, fronted with iron 



hooping (galvanised wire had not then been invented), with 

 tin troughs made by my dear old tinker crony. My Eabbits 

 paid, too, for being a day scholar at a grammar school, I 

 was able to supply the less fortunate boarders with my spare 

 stock. Of course, their food came out of the governor's 

 garden and com bins. Great was my delight at every im- 

 provement. My stock rose thus — Ill-marked and common, 

 then better marked, then Smuts, and Butterfly Smuts, then 

 Half-lops, Oar -lops, and, triumph of triumphs, Full-lops. A 

 certain doe, black and white, and perfect in dewlap, colour- 

 ing, and shape, is well remembered by me, as I placed her 

 for exhibition on a truss of hay with her little ones arouno. 

 her. 



Nor let my grand buck "Sir Harry," be forgotten, an 

 enormous fellow, yellow and white, and dark-nosed. How 

 he drubbed the cat, threatened the dog, and almost beat 

 life out of a Dorking cock. My Eabbits had reached per- 

 fection point, just as stage coaches had when railways came 

 in, and having reached it, they gave way to a new fancy, 

 that of Pigeons, but how that happened my next Number 

 shall tell, which, it may be, will be less of a Number xor 

 schoolboys than this. — Wiltshire Eector, August, 19ift. 



EABBITS. 



Why is it that while so much pains are taken in the im- 

 provement of poultry and Pigeons, Eabbits are left almost 

 unnoticed? Are not the Ostend Eabbits, or what are still 

 better, the Patagonian Eabbits, worth a little care and 

 trouble? A few hutches may be kept where there is no 

 room for fowls, and the Eabbits are so healthy and pleasant 

 to feed, that it is not only a delight to have them, but it 

 saves many a butcher's bill. 



A Patagonian Babbit when only ten weeks old weighs 

 from 8 lbs. to 9 lbs. They are ugly in appearance, having a 

 large, broad head, and a single lop, but their usefulness 

 quite makes up for their want of beauty ; and if elegance 

 and beauty are required, then have those lovely little crea- 

 tures the Himalayas as well. 



The large Eabbit consumes a great quantity of food, and 

 I should like to know if such would thrive weU fed only upon 

 soaked grey peas and fine middlings mixed with white pea 

 haulms, as when fed with oats they waste so much.— Henley. 



[Eabbits have not been left unnoticed in our pages, and 

 the contributions to them on the subject have been collected 

 and published in a little volume, entitled "The Jxabbit 

 Book," which you can have free by post from our office for 

 seven postage stamps. It contains full directions for feed- 

 ing and managing, with portraits taken from live specimens 

 of the principal varieties.] 



WINTERING THE CUCEOO. 



In answer to a correspondent who asks information how 

 to keep Cuckoos through the winter, I may state my ex- 

 perience, having kept one until November ; I lost it then by 

 its being choked. I fed mine on small pieces of liver, 

 mutton, and wasps, but the bird seems to prefer the young 

 grubs. I think if your correspondent can keep up a supply 

 of grubs or beetles with the raw mutton and liver, he may 

 manage to keep his bird through the winter. 



On dissecting the gizzard of the Cuckoo, the old birds I 

 find have in it a quantity of hairy caterpillars and beetles. 

 A bird-preserver in this locality of no mean experience, has 

 now a Cuckoo, and he tells me that he is confident that 

 Cuckoos sleep for most of their time during the winter, and 

 that this sleeping will not take place until the gizzard is 

 quite full of caterpillars and beetles. 



I have shot Cuckoos this season to dissect the gizzard, 

 and I have found them to be as my friend says. He seems 

 quite sanguine of success, and I shall watch his experience, 

 and if he succeeds until November or December, I will com- 

 municate the result to The Journal op Horticulture. — 

 E. D., Sedham. . 



To Keep Honey. — M. Sands, Orange county, N.T., directs 

 to heat strained honey to the boiling point, and store it in 



