90 
November 15. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
the plants acquire great strength, and may be taken 
up as required for forcing. 
James Barnes. 
MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION. 
OUR VILLAGE WALKS. 
(No. 6.) 
November is the month that most severely tries 
the spirits of those who do not love the country, and, 
indeed, of those who do. The gloomy fogs that often 
occur, the mud of the roads, and the soppiness of the 
fields, make country walks very uncomfortable, and 
prevent many from enjoying an exercise that in al¬ 
most all weathers is beneficial, and in almost every 
season has a charm. It certainly does require some 
little effort to plunge into a dense November fog; yet, 
wrapped in a plaid, even that unpromising atmo¬ 
sphere has been a source of enjoyment to me ; and 
perhaps I may find among my indulgent readers 
another oddity who feels as I do, and can brave all 
weather except a straight pouring rain. There is a 
loneliness in a fog that I delight in. To stand and 
look round, and see nothing beyond the very nearest 
objects, and those but dimly, is strikingly impressive. 
An approaching step has in it something startling— 
it is so near, and yet we can see nothing! We feel 
alone in the world, and our eye mechanically turns 
to the misty yet lighter spot above, marking the po¬ 
sition of the sun. This is a true picture of our 
earthly course. How dimly and imperfectly do we 
see all that passes around us; and how unable are 
we to penetrate the thick mist that envelopes futu¬ 
rity! We hear sounds of peril, but we cannot tell 
what is advancing, or how to escape it; and those 
who have the keenest foresight and clearest eye do 
but stand with a fearfully small extent of road open 
before them, and perhaps discern tire outline of some 
object that looks like an approaching giant. Even 
the Christian can only “ see through a glass darkly,” 
till the veil is removed from his sight. May not, then, 
a wet, comfortless fog teach us a salutary lesson, and 
prove to us not only the foolishness of all our worldly 
wisdom, but the deep need we stand in of light from 
above ? 
There are, however, days of extreme beauty in No¬ 
vember, while the last rich tints linger in the trees, 
and here and there a flower still makes the hedgerow 
interesting. In spite of the wet, which now in some 
places never dries up, a morning walk has abundant 
beauty, and fully bears out the pre-eminence which 
the country possesses, even in winter, over the con¬ 
finement of the town. I was standing one day on 
a natural grassy terrace, at the edge of a larch plan¬ 
tation, looking down upon a small sunny farm, and 
beyond it, over a thickly wooded valley, dotted with 
quiet residences and cottages, some of them visible, 
and many others I knew, snugly closed in with trees: 
the sounds of tillage, the voice of the ploughman, 
and the creak of the plough, rose from the fields 
beneath me; the sharp strokes of a busy hammer 
came from the outbuildings of the farm; and near 
me the ‘ bill’ of a woodman, making up larch bavins, 
made melody too, for there is music in all the sounds 
of country life. I bethought me of the clatter of 
carts and carriages in a noisy town, of the close air, 
and unlovely sights that inhabitants of towns endure, 
and it made me glad to think that perhaps The Cot¬ 
tage Gardener has been the means of promoting 
the enjoyments of many who would fain live among 
the beauties of nature, and whose little garden or 
flower-stand has glowed more richly since the skill 
of kind and scientific men has been brought so much 
within their reach. 
I thought, too, as I stood admiring every thing 
around me, that the agriculturist possesses the most 
peaceful enjoyable station of life, provided he lays 
up in his heart the solemn command, “Walk before 
me, and be thou perfect.” God is the “ shield, and 
exceeding great reward,” of all who take hold of His 
covenant; and this is the tap-root of man’s pros¬ 
perity, be he prince or peasant. It is not making li aste 
to be rich that makes us so ; it is not rising up early, 
and late taking rest, and eating the bread of careful¬ 
ness, that makes us easy and happy. We are directed 
to be “not slothful in business, fervent in spirit, serv¬ 
ing the Lord.” We may, in this temper of mind, be 
less rich than our worldly neighbour, but safe and 
more happy. 
The labours of an English farmer, or gardener, or 
labourer, are among such beautiful things,-—the smell 
of the earth is so pleasant, the early morning air is 
such a draught of health,—the very cattle and beasts 
of burden are, or should be, so interesting to him 
with their willing returns for the care lie takes of 
them,—the seasons as they glide round are so delight 
ful, and he is so mixed up with, and belonging to, 
each and all,—that his life is one of great blessings, 
many privileges, and much scope for doing good. 
What a touching reproof, too, is daily brought before 
the eyes of the agriculturist! “ The ox knoweth 
his owner, and the ass his master’s crib, but Israel 
doth not know, my people doth not consider.” Are 
we wiser, are we more thoughtful, than the people 
of God were then? How many reproofs rise up 
like adders under our very feet as we walk through 
our own quiet, beautiful land! The peaceful cattle 
gathering around the farm-yard gate, the poultry re¬ 
tiring one by one to roost through the well-known 
door, the dog rejoicing to see his master, and know¬ 
ing his step and voice long before he sees him, all 
condemn the coldness and indifference of man to God. 
If the cottager, if every body, considered these things, 
they would not find their path more rugged or their 
days more dull; and they would have this added 
comfort, that when the long night comes in which no 
man can work, they would enjoy a sunrise of glory 
that will never set again. 
The elm and the lime trees have been this year 
remarkable for the exquisite gold colour of their 
dying leaves. Some elms I have seen have been 
most strikingly beautiful, and the prevalence of this 
colour among the autumnal tints this season has 
made some spots appear quite like a fairy scene. 
The lime is a beautiful tree in all its stages, and in 
the flowering season its sweetness is extreme. The 
little bunches of delicate pale flowers drooping from 
every twig give the whole tree a very graceful ap¬ 
pearance, and afford an abundant supply of food for 
thousands of bees, who come from long distances, 
attracted by the powerful scent. The lower boughs 
bend down till they rest upon the ground, forming a 
thick and beautiful shade, under which a group may 
enjoy coolness and seclusion during the hottest day; 
therefore these trees are particularly suitable to the 
lawn and pleasure-ground. The flowers, fresh or 
dried, made into tea, are good in all nervous com¬ 
plaints, relieving the giddiness and trembling that 
ariso from disordered nerves. The inner bark is said 
to be good for destroying worms. The wood of the 
lime is so white and delicate that it is much used for 
