August 10. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
320 
“ potato disease,” such conjectures aud remedies are so 
various as to make it matter of doubt whether another 
one could be invented or not; but it is only fair to 
observe, that amongst the many antidotes to its exter¬ 
mination, sulphur stands pre-eminent for its qualities in 
that respect. Latterly other substances have been 
added, as lime and soot, and some have found the com¬ 
pound of lime and sulphur, when mixed in equal 
quantities, boiled together, and the clear liquid obtained, 
diluted with water, syringed over the plants, the best 
mode of applying it. This has been done to some 
extent in some hop plantations that- have come under 
our notice, and from the sanguine hopes of the parties 
who adopted it much may be expected. Now, though 
we have not yet had sufficient experience in this liquid 
preparation to assert its superiority over sulphur used 
in a powdered state, yet we are of opinion, that for all 
out-door crops it will be found more beneficial. The 
reason is obvious; the dry sulphur is in itself harmless, 
either to red spider, or to mildew, as it cannot be 
swallowed as food by the one, nor assimilated by the 
other, but the vapour it gives off when heated may be 
distasteful to both. Now this vapour has a much 
better chance to have effect in a house than in the open 
air, where they so speedily disperse with the atmosphere, 
and are consequently weakened to an extent to be no 
longer hurtful, or, at least, much less so than when shut 
up in a structure like a hothouse. We say, therefore, 
j to our friends whose peas are suffering from mildew, try 
the application of sulphur boiled with lime, and report 
the result to the readers of The Cottage Gardener. 
The ingredients are obtained at a cheap rate, and the 
mode of using them equally simple, and if the result 
confirms our expectations, that this pest may be over¬ 
come by such means, one great step towards retarding, 
or even forwarding some crops, is attained; as who has 
not noticed Cucumbers, Vegetable Marrow, aud even 
'Turnips become a prey to this insidious enemy, which 
otherwise might have continued in bearing much longer? 
and when it is known the many thousands of pounds 
loss it is to the hop growers, we do not call attention to 
its importance without a just knowledge of the utility 
any practical remedy must be in a national point of 
view; at the same time we will take notice of what is 
being done, and report accordingly. J. Robson. 
ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. 
By the Author of “ My Flowers," “ The Uotlayc Lamp," Ac. 
The age of miracles has not yet passed away. The cot¬ 
tage gardener, whose death was hourly expected when I 
wrote my last paper, is a living proof and witness that “ the 
hand of the Lord is not shortened that he cannot save,” 
! when man’s most skilful efforts come to nothing. He yet 
lives to show that the dead are now as mightily and sensibly 
raised to life as when Jesus Christ called Lazarus to “ come 
forth.” 
, Jolm F-yet lives; and never was there a more striking, 
astonishing proof of the mercy and goodness of God. His 
medical attendants saw and felt that no earthly power could 
save him. They did not think it improbable, but impossible, 
from the nature of his complaint, that he could live; and 
when it was said to them, “ We trust that God may yet 
bless the moans you have used, and raise him up again,” it 
was most gravely and solemnly replied, “ A miracle may 
restore him, but nothing else can." 
That miracle was wrought. Without any apparent reason, 
without any cause that man’s eye could discover, a change 
suddenly took place; the pains of death ceased, and life 
once more lighted up the languid frame. The medical man 
i was dumb; it was no work of his he saw and felt; it was 
all, from first to last, the work of God. From that moment 
a gradual recovery has taken place; weakness is of course 
great; but John can now sit in his little kitchen once more; 
he can creep gently up his pretty garden to look at his 
crops aud his bees; and he can speak again of his favourite 
woodcraft, which for a long time he could not do. He will 
now, I trust and hope, speak of other things,—things that 
belong unto his peace ; things that grow clearer and greater 
when tbe things of earth fade and die; things that a death¬ 
bed shows and teaches, that either make the pillow smooth 
and soft, or fill it with thorns and anguish. He felt that all 
was not right when he was at the gates of death; and now 
that he has been “ delivered from going down into the pit,” 
surely he will seek to know the “ ransom ” that has been 
“ found ” for sinners ! The very acts of husbandry he has 
so often practiced; the very circumstances of woodcraft, 
have been shown forth in his case. Will not then- voices 
be heard? How often has he “digged about and dunged" 
the unfruitful tree! How often have I seen his axe laid to 
the very root of a tree, and heard my sister exclaim—“ Stop, 
John ; do not cut down that tree; we do not wish that tree 
touched;” and the unconscious oak or larch has gone 
waving on in the buoyant breeze, little recking of the stroke 
that would, in one moment more, have laid it low ! Surely 
now these things will come home to his heart with power, 
and lead him to “hear and understand.” At seventy, we 
cannot hope or look for many days ; tbe grasshopper is 
beginning to be a burden ; and when so violent a shake has 
taken place, so loud a call has been cried in our ears, we 
cannot say how soon the last summons may come. Yet 
“ the heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately 
wicked; who can know it?” When danger is passed, the 
fear subsides ; without conversion of heart, no real change 
takes place ; no real alarm awakens ; no real peace ensues. 
Terror is not repentance; vows are not living faith; how 
soon does such apparent goodness dry up like the morning 
dew! 
I remember, some years ago, a man being suddenly struck 
with what was thought a fatal blow. Whether it was an 
accident, or an illness, I cannot now bring to mind, but it 
was a sudden seizure of some violent kind. He was a 
drinking, swearing, desperate character, and his terrors I 
shall never forget. With my own senses I saw and heard 
him, as he lay helpless on his bed. His own words were— 
“ I see hell open before me! I see the flames ; I am lost < 
for ever, if I die now ! ” It was a scene for the ungodly and 
sinners; a terrible scene; could it ever be forgotten ? 
Yes. That very man is living now, as careless and dead as 
ever ! After terrors that had sprung up in his own heart; 
after protestations of repentance, and agonizing cries for 
mercy, he rose up, and “ returned to his vomit.” 
John F-lives in a bowery cottage, in a quiet, beautiful 
dell. He looks out upon green hills, which remind us all 
of those “ from whence cometh our help.” He is surrounded 
by gardens and fruit-trees, and woods and plantations, all 
crying aloud with their soft voices, and warning us to 
“ bring forth fruits meet for repentance; ” to beware of 
being “ trees whose fruit witheretli; ” to seek wisdom, 
“which is a tree of fife to them which lay hold on her;” 
and to remember Him who is “ as an apple-tree among the 
trees of the wood,” whose “ shadow ” is a “ delight,” and 
whose “fruit is sweet” to the “taste.” He has already 
seen death, for his wife was taken from him some years 
ago, and he has sat in loneliness ever since; but without 
spiritual sight, what are all these things ? Until now, his 
eyes were blinded; but this last visitation has, I think, 
quickened his sight in a measure. He may be said to “ see 
men as trees walking ;” and this is an earnest that clearer 
vision may yet be graciously vouchsafed to him, if he goes 
in simple and stedfast faith to Him who only can give sight 
to the blind. John will, probably, never again be able to 
wield an axe, but he may use a still more powerful weapon— 
“the sword of the Spirit; ” ho will, perhaps, never even be , 
able to dig, and plant, and sow, as he has done hitherto; 
but he has a garden hidden from every eye but that of God, 
which needs digging and planting a thousand times more 
than any soil that man can till; and there he may labour 
without ceasing until “ the night cometh when no man cau 
work.” There will be no lack of business there; and it will 
be a work which will follow him when the grave closes 
over him. 
Let us all deeply reflect upon the miracle wrought upon 
John F-. Let us take warning, and let us take comfort 
too. Nothing is too hard for the Lord; “all things are 
