THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
August 11). 
324 
possible with God.” Let us, in all our sicknesses, use the 
means God permits for our recovery ; yet let us in heart 
seek to the Lord, and not to the physicians, for through Him 
only them hands can heal. 
Let us be ready. When death comes, and we feel, like 
John, that “ things are not right,” we shall have hut short 
and miserable time to set them in order. JVe may not be 
miraculously healed: a thousand to one against it. Let us 
not leave to a dying-bed that which needs our fullest health 
and strength to do. It is no small thing to turn to God ; it 
is no light thing to perish. 
l’OULTRY OF THE CALAISIS AND THE j 
ARDRESIS. 
{Continuedfrom page 311.) 
“ The Society of Practical Agriculture of the Arrondisse- 
ment of Le Havre, has lately been occupied about the de¬ 
struction versus the preservation of crows [dcs Corneilles '),— 
a much controverted question amongst competent agricul¬ 
turists. For if the crow really is a powerful assistant to the 
countryman in the destruction of white worms, larvae, and I 
noxious insects, it makes him on the other hand pay very 
dear for its services, by making considerable havoc amongst 
his young crops, and by devouring the fruits of the earth, \ 
which it digs up by means of its very strong bill. In those 
localities where there are no permanent lofty woods, crows 
are only birds of passage, and their sojourn is not long 
enough to occasion serious losses. In such a case it is 
better to preserve them, because they then do more good 
than harm. But in other neighbourhoods, where tall trees 
are numerous, and where these birds build, they are then 
found in such numbers, that serious injuries to agriculture 
are the result. (This reads more like rookeries than 
croweries.) The different opinions given on this subject ! 
have shown such a difference in the respective appreciation 
of the usefulness or the injuriousness of crows, that no 
general measure for the destruction of these creatures, 
otherwise than by the gun, could be proposed. Under these 
circumstances, the Society decided that it had the right to 
request of M. le Prefel, local authorisations for obtaining 
the privilege of destroying crows otherwise than by the 
gun, in those localities only where they are too numerous." 
Rather an undecided decision to come to. Is it possible 
that the Society is not accurately acquainted with the 
difference between a rook aud a crow ? It may be so ; in 
which case they are, as too often happens, only legislating 
blindfold. 
But a course of poultry was promised, and not a rook- 
pie,—however good in its way the latter may be for courage¬ 
ous epicures. 
A notable fact to be observed throughout the Calaisis | 
(and what is said of it in this respect, is applicable far [ 
beyond its limits) is the abundance of tame pigeons; for 
wood pigeons and turtles are to be seen in the forests. 
Every village, every farm, evei’y square, street, and lane, has 
its pigeons running and flying to and fro, picking up every 
waste crumb and seed. In the towns, the attics of the 
houses are their usual habitations; in the country, either 
capacious dove-houses ( colombiers in the form of square 
towers), or portions of the roomy farm-buildings. As to 
kinds, they are mostly utter mongrels; crosses of the 
Antwerp Carrier, of the Turbit, aud the Runt, are often 
visible. Runts and Dove-house pigeons tolerably pure are l 
not uncommon. Blue Rocks, scarce, or not at all; the 
mode of life here is much too domestic for them. All are 
very fine birds ; the average of weight must be considerably j 
above what it is in England; and when they do begin to j 
breed, they are abundant indeed. During the pigeon season 
(which is here considered to be contemporaneous with that 
of green peas, though lasting beyond it in the autumn), a 
couple of excellent young pigeons can be had for twelve 
sous, as the regular market price, which is a fraction less 
than sixpence, seeing that the shilling English is worth 
twenty^ue sous. Bigeon-pie, therefore, is not an ex¬ 
travagant luxury. But the price of all poultry produce is 
raised along the whole of the north coast of France, at least 
as far as Le Havre or Cherbourg, by the enormous ex¬ 
portation to England. In the interior, and to the south of 
raris, it is much cheaper. The pigeons here cost their 
keepers but little; they forage far and near, and no doubt 
at times commit heavy depredations on the crops, while at 
other seasons they render good service by consuming the 
seeds of weeds. Although pigeons pair for life, and are 
tolerably faithful to each other, I think their breeding in 
and in is greatly checked, and their mongrelization hero 
continued by oft-oceuring accidents. The forests rear a 
number of the larger hawks ; the need to feed their young 
would put them in pursuit of pigeons, which are impelled 
by the same instinct to scour the distant fields. In spring, 
many a columbine widow and widower would be made by 
this cause; and in -autumn, in a country where every man 
has a right to shoot on his own land, and protect his own 
harvest, many a pigeon may be supposed to leave its dove- 
house never to get back again. The survivors are not in¬ 
consolable, and soon find a new partner, and a frequent 
mixture of blood is the result. 
As to cocks and hens, they are equally innumerable, and 
equally miscellaneous. I have not seen the slightest 
symptom of an approach to a pigeon or a fowl fancy; 
perhaps the translation of some of our treatises into French 
might awaken the taste ; at present the only competition 
seems to be who shall have most, who shall be, what we 
should call the most completely over-stocked. I can now 
realise the scene in a country inn, which Pigault Lebrun, a 
native of Calais, inserted in his earliest novel. 
“ The rest answered exactly to what I had just seen. 
Smashed window-panes, broken-legged chairs, worm-eaten 
fables, consumptive chickens (which ran everywhere, and 
left on all the furniture marks of their passage), a landlady 
only fit to touch with the tongs, and a landlord in special 
bad temper. Such was the place of amusement where we 
had to pass the night. 
“ I asked what they could give us to eat. The answer 
was, an excellent fricassee of chickens. ‘ Made with these? ’ 
said I, pointing to those that were trotting around us. ‘Yes, 
Monsieur, yes,’ said the governor, nipping his eye-brows, 
‘ and you will be sure that they have not died of the pip.’ 1 
promised him very politely to pay for his chickens, and pre¬ 
vailed upon him to keep them. I returned to the bcrline, 
handed out the two ladies who were my travelling com¬ 
panions, and introduced them. They looked at me, and 
made a grimace ! The wisest plan was to amuse ourselves 
with all this ; and that was the course we took. We seated 
ourselves around the fire. Juliette warmed herself, Made¬ 
moiselle d’Heronville played her guitar, I dried my cloak, 
and the coachman brought us up from the carriage certain 
means of consolation which rarely fail in their effect. 
“ Scarcely had we begun our supper, when seven or eight 
chickens jumped into the dishes, pecked the bread, the pie, 
and even the cold meat. I believe they had not eaten any¬ 
thing for two days. I hunted them out, and shut the door; 
they returned by the cat’s-hole {la chalierc). One perched 
on the back of my chair, another on Juliette’s shoulder; a 
third hooked its claws in Mademoiselle d’Heronville’s hair. 
We got up from our seats; we ran about the chamber 
holding the plates in our hand, and the chickens followed 
us wherever we went. The coachman took an old pot, half 
filled it with bread and pie-crust, set it before them in one 
corner, they fell upon it, and left us quiet. 
“ In the night I was awoke by a trembling voice calling 
me into the room. ‘ What is the matter? ’ said I, rubbing 
my eyes. ‘ There are ghosts here.’ ‘ And pray where are 
the ghosts?’ ‘Come here, and look then.’ It was Made¬ 
moiselle d’Heronville who pointed to something at the 
further part of the chamber. I looked. ‘ Eh! it is a pot,,’ 
said I. ‘ Yes, but that pot walks.’ ‘ How walks ! ’ ‘ Eh ! 
it certainly does walk,’ and she crept close to Juliette, who 
slept soundly. I looked more attentively, and actually the 
pot was moving. ‘ Wind do you think of that?’ said she. 
‘ It is very extraordinary.’ ‘ Ah, mon (lieu, how frightened 1 
am!’ ‘At what?’ ‘After all it is only a pot.’ ‘A pot! 
have you ever seen a pot walk ? ’ ‘I confess that does not 
commonly happen.’ While we were talking, the pot visibly 
approached. The night-light was at the foot of the bed, 
and would soon be upset. I lost all patience. ‘ W’ere it the 
devil,’ said I, ‘ I will know what it is.’ I gave the pot a 
good kick. A chicken that was under it flew up to the bed, 
and awoke Juliette. I began to laugh. Mademoiselle 
