116 
counted, whilst its impulse and sound were discerned 
with difficulty. 
The opinion that the shell is broken by a cutting or 
scraping motion of the hill through the agency of the 
pointed horny scale at its end was shown to he falla¬ 
cious, as the membrane which lines the shell is, in the 
first instance, left entire, while the shell itself without 
has been chipped or broken off. Now, the shell, Dr. 
Horner stated, was really broken hit by hit, and with 
apparent ease by a healthy chicken, and generally by 
one single smart blow, although, in some instances, the 
blow is immediately repeated, or double. Each stroke 
of the bill was made with considerable power, imping¬ 
ing with force against the shell, as was seen, as well as 
felt and heard, by placing the ear against the part 
when broken. When the period of hatching approaches, 
the chicken, which previously had occupied but two- 
thirds of the space within the egg, now raises itself 
in the shell by a struggling movement, and by thus 
unpacking, as it were, of itself, acquires more liberty 
for its efforts of liberation from its shell. 
Dr. Horner concluded by observing, that the reason 
why the shell is always broken from right to left (and 
not from left to right, as some writers had fancifully 
stated) is because the chicken is so packed in the shell 
that the head always reclines under the left wing, and 
on the left side of its body; so that it can only work 
and turn with facility towards that side. 
It is satisfactory to observe that the attention of men 
of science has been given to subjects of this nature, 
and, although it may be said that such enquiries do not 
immediately benefit the more practical branches of 
poultry-keeping, still it cannot be denied that they serve 
a most useful purpose, in promoting experiments and 
habits of investigation that may guide us towards not 
only a more skilful, but also a more profitable, system 
of poultry management. Naturalists have too often 
regarded domesticated animals as removed from the 
sphere of their labours, under the same impressions as 
lead botanists to look witli scorn on the florist’s most 
cherished specimens. We hope, however, for better 
things, being satisfied that all that concerns the ex¬ 
istence of either birds or animals in a domestic state 
must be interesting, and may be useful knowledge. 
W. 
BROCOLIS, CAULIFLOWERS, &c. 
Who shall keep the cook in temper without a due 
supply of these useful adjuncts of the noble science 
of gastronomy? That our cooks are a most important 
class in society, who will doubt; and to produce first- 
rate dinners they should, of course, have first-rate 
materials; and here I must confess to the low feeling of 
enV y—the cook can make her fire as she pleases, but 
can the gardener say the same of the weather, on which, 
as the world knows, the results of his practice must ever, 
in a great measure, depend, let his skill be ever so first- 
rate ? Who has not heard of the poor frozen-out gar¬ 
deners ? but who ever heard of a cook being frozen out? 
for bo the weather outside ever so severe, the kitchen 
server may still he seon going his daily rounds, albeit 
November 17. 
his materials may be somewhat of an adamantine cha¬ 
racter. 
It being admitted that a supply of these vegetables is 
liable to be almost constantly in request, let us see on 
what this depends. 
On the face of the subject, however, we have to 
grapple with a most formidable foe, by far too well 
known to most of our readers under the title of club. 
At first sight, the culture of a Cauliflower and a few 
Brocolis may seem a small affair to some, but I can 
assure them, that with many families they are one of 
the prime essentials of the kitchen; for I may freely 
affirm, that the family I have the honour to serve have 
not missed, perhaps, some kind of Cauliflowers or 
Brocolis, a score times through the year during the last 
few years, that is to say, if they desire them, and, 
indeed, they generally do. Having had much to do 
with these vegetables in my time, I shall speak with 
freedom about their culture, &c. With regard to “ the 
club,” it is a tolerably well-ascertained fact, that hard- 
worked soils are more liable to it than those which have 
been under grass; in farming language, “ leys.” Both 
remedial and preventive measures have been adopted 
by me, during the last seven years, with such good 
success, that I boldly recommend them; for prior to 
that, I had the utmost difficulty in supplying our 
family with anything like regularity; since which, 
as before observed, failures are almost unknown. The 
preventive measure consists in deep trenching every 
three years, bringing up each successive time some ot 
the subsoil, unless that be a rank clay. As to remedials, 
I use burned, or rather charred, rubbish freely, boring 
huge holes at the planting position, filling them full of 
the charred materials, and dipping the roots of the 
plants in soot-water mud—a pudding system—before 
inserting them in the prepared holes. But this I found 
not thoroughly satisfactory without a previous con¬ 
sideration; I found out that it was requisite, like many 
other things, to begin at the beginning, and proceeding 
on a sort of normal system. This consisted in taking 
means to secure healthy plants in the seed-bed. I, 
therefore, select the poorest plot in the garden annually, 
and trench it very deep in November, throwing it into a 
steep ridge, or winter’s fallow; this is levelled down in 
the end of March, and a dressing, three inches thick, of 
my favourite charred weeds, &c., is forked in. I do not 
fork more than six inches in depth, and generally 
perform the operation twice when the soil is dry; and 
thus the surface, or seed-bed itself, is composed as nearly 
as may be of subsoil and charred material. 
Our readers may—some of the younger portion, at 
least—desire to know something more philosophic con¬ 
cerning this old, but, as yet, ill-understood-disease, the 
devastations of which, if they could be presented in the 
aggregate from all quarters, would present a most 
astounding item in our economics. It is settled, I 
believe, by our Natural History gentlemen, that the 
swelling, known by the name of “ club ” in the Cabbage- 
worts, and by that of “ anbury ” in the Turnips, is pro¬ 
duced by a small insect, a species of weevil. But, then, 
like the Potato botrytis, we may fairly turn and ask, 
what is the predisposing cause? In my opinion, hard 
ploughing, or hard digging if you will, is one of the 
principal. Land, under constant culture for years, must, 
of necessity, become altered in its constituents; there 
must be a lack of some matters, and a superabundance 
of others, whether organic or inorganic; the results from 
which could scarcely be expected to confine themselves 
to weakness alone, but extend even to the production of 
positive disease, or a vitiated constitution. 
The vast amount of humus, too, which most gardens 
contain, seems here an evil. How the latter acts in the 
production of club, if it be so, I am at a loss to know; 
but certain it is, that this tribe will not succeed so well 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
