126 THE COTTAGE GARDENER. November 17. 
will, perhaps, weary of the same thing over again, hut for 
all that, I am going to follow up my last paper with another 
of the same kind, to show how dangerous is power—how 
evil is the heart of man—and how surely punishment follows 
us when we sin. Sometimes it treads upon our very heels; 
at other times it lags behind for awhile; but, depend upon 
it, like the tortoise, it will win the race at last. 
William Blake was not a gardener, but he was every¬ 
thing else to his master, who was afflicted with so much 
bodily suffering, as to be, for months at a time, unable to 
quit his house. He was a bachelor, and his servant was, of 
course, of great importance to him. Blake had entered this 
gentleman’s service when a boy, and had grown into his 
ways and habits so completely, that he became, at last, of 
the greatest consequence to him, and not the less so, be¬ 
cause he bore with violence and testiness which sometimes 
broke out on his master’s part. He was every thing to him; 
valet, butler, footman, groom, out-door servant, nurse, and 
general man of business. He was a very uneducated man, 
but he had a kind of natural sharpness that jumped with 
his master’s humour, and made him useful and knowing. 
Everything was “ Blake.” His master heard, and knew, and 
said, and managed everything through Blake; and the con¬ 
sequence was, as it ever will be, in cases of the same kind, 
where God is not acknowledged as the director of all our 
paths, that everything was at sixes and sevens; everybody 
was misrepresented; some meant to cheat; others meant 
to rob; and his master, who was really kindhearted, was 
kept in a constant state of petty warfare with all about him. 
Every friend he had was sorry for the influence Blake had 
over him as he grew older and less able to act and think 
for himself. He was persuaded to do unkind, and uncharit¬ 
able, and unwise things ; and people knew it was from what 
he had heard through Blake; so that his name was not 
honoured among men, as a faithful servant’s should be. 
The household was miserably ordered—there was no steady 
head in it; and when Blake and the cook married, which 
they did after quarrelling for many years, misrule and im¬ 
position increased and multiplied. The relatives of the 
master were greatly disturbed at the state of things, which 
grew worse and worse, but they could do nothing. Blake 
and his wife ruled the empire, and none could dethrone 
them. At last a family began to rise up, and then it was 
found best to make a change, but it was one almost without 
a difference, for they were put into the farm-house, which 
stood so near the mansion, that it was next thing to being 
under the same roof. Mr. G-’s relations now succeeded 
in placing a respectable couple in his house, as cook and 
valet; but they very soon gave it up. Nothing and nobody 
could get on where Blake was prime minister. It was of 
no use to try to legislate in such a democracy, and, there¬ 
fore, poor Mr. G. was left at last “ to darkness and to ”— 
him. 
Time passed on. Blake had a large family, and brought 
up his children to do nothing. His eldest daughter went 
out as lady’s maid, but in a few months she returned upon 
his hands, with smart clothes, but no capacity for service. 
His son went sometimes with a whip after the team, but he 
was not taught to work for his bread, and looked like a lad 
who could do nothing. Blake grow fat, and seemed to 
thrive more and more; but every one said, when the next 
heir came to the property, his light would be put out. 
And so it proved. Mr. G. faded, and his precarious 
health suddenly gave way. He died, and everything went 
to the next of kin. It was a matter of great surprise to all 
that he should not have remembered his old servant in his 
will; so fond of him as he had been, and so useful as Blake 
always was to him; but he left him nothing. As soon as 
decency permitted, he had notice to quit his house, and the 
management of the farm was at once taken from him. This 
was a heavy blow to Blake: he was completely fallen, and 
no one pitied him. Not a creature was there to whom he 
or his wife could turn for comfort or sympathy. Neither of 
them were people of character, and they had no friends. 
Blake began to look out for another situation as bailiff. 
He was a good manager of land, Ac., and talked magnifi¬ 
cently of one or two gentlemen who “wanted” him at a 
hundred a-year; but no one was forthcoming to engage 
him, and he was soon going round to solicit assistance to 
take his family to Australia. This was the last “ chance;’ 
as it is called, for the man, who, for many, many years, ruled 
and lived upon his master. 
Preparations for departure were made, when the needful 
means were got together. Blake and his family passed 
away without any one knowing or caring anything about 
them; the only circumstance noticed was, that one pouring 
day, a covered waggon left the village with Blake’s effects, 
and the remainder of his children, under the charge of his 
eldest daughter, who went off in a very smart silk dress, 
with large white muslin cuffs. Thus closed the prosperous 
career of William Blake, and the prospect of a new world 
opened upon him. The last accounts that reached England 
of his situation, said, that his eldest daughter was laid in the 
grave; his wife and other children were suffering from sick¬ 
ness, and himself and his son working in the fields. 
Let no one exult over misfortune even when it is the re¬ 
sult of misconduct. “ Let him that tliinketh he standetli, 
take heed lest he fall.” How affecting it is to see a fellow- 
creature in trouble! and it is worse when brought about by 
his own hand. Readers, tremble! If you know, in your 
heart of hearts, that you are walking in any degree as Blake 
walked—Oh, take warning! stop! “ Turn ye from your evil 
ways. Why will ye die?” If you are doing that which is 
“ not lawful and right,” the Lord will avenge it. You may 
be going comfortably on now; you may be serving masters 
who do not see, or suspect; but, if you are defrauding them, 
or misleading them, or influencing them against others, and 
to your own advantage, you are doing Satan’s work, and he 
will give you the reward. Depend upon this—that to be 
faithful to our fellow-men, we must first be faithful to our 
God. We cannot trust ourselves, unless we are held by that 
bit and bridle of God’s Word ; unless we can feel, “ Thou, 
God, seest.” What else can govern us? Satan is stronger 
than we are; and, unless the Lord fights for us, we cannot 
resist his temptations and snares. 
Let the lives of two men in one parish strike the hearts 
of us all. Let us not pride ourselves on our better conduct. 
Who can tell, till he is tried, of what stuff he is made ? 
Reader! “ Suppose ye that these Galileans were sinners 
above all the Galileans, because they suffered such things ? 
I tell you, nay; but except ye repent, ye shall likewise 
perish.” Let us turn from our wickedness, and live. 
TREATMENT OF FOWLS AT EXHIBITIONS. 
Now so many of our principal Poultry Shows are forth¬ 
coming, perchance the following few remarks may benefit 
brother-exhibitors. 
We hear much said of “ Poultry,” or “ Exhibition Fever; ” 
I am convinced it may, in a great measure, be obviated, not 
only by proper care in the acting committees of the various 
exhibitions, but equally so by simple rule in the owners 
themselves. There is no doubt, that many specimens 
brought into competition could not be maintained in the 
same state of vigour any considerable time, even if not 
subjected to the ordeal of an exhibition-pen. Fed luxuri¬ 
ously every day, as many are, on greaves, large quantities of 
fresh meat, &c., &c., is it matter of astonishment that these 
fowls, after a couple of day’s confinement on less stimulating 
food, should appear low and dispirited ? 
But, even a far greater cause of injury arises from the 
ill-judged arrangement of exhibitors, in giving, at the last 
moment before sending them, superabundant quantities of 
hard corn, “ lest the poor things should be famished by the 
way.” 
The consequences need scarcely any detail: the crop 
becomes well-filled, and, during the alarm consequent on 
railway transit, digestion is impeded; hence, when arrived 
at their destination, thirst having naturally ensued, water is 
taken in very unusual quantities; the grain being still in 
the crop becomes even more enlarged; inflammation suc¬ 
ceeds ; the comb blackens; the feathers ruffle; and, cer¬ 
tainly, the (miscalled) kindness of their owners has placed 
them not in the most favourable view for the inspection of 
the judges ; nor is it at all likely to do otherwise than sadly 
injure their constitution for future “ breeding purposes,” 
even should they survive; an event, by the way, somewhat 
problematical. 
