1C6 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
JUNE 1. 
POULTRY. 
AGES OF CHICKENS WHEN EXHIBITED. 
“ In your notice of the Poultry Show in connection with 
the West of England Agricultural Show at Bath, I do not 
see any comment made upon a rule that appears to me 
somewhat stringent: ‘ All birds competing for any chicken’s 
prize must have their exact ages entered thereon.’ 
“ This appears to me a somewhat difficult task to perform 
faithfully. How frequently do chicken of the same sitting 
hatch on different days ; and how, possibly, with these, can 
the exact age be given ? 
“ T presume that this year this will be far more difficult. 
Few have been very successful in the early broods; and 
many have placed the produce of several broods under one 
mother. Here, I fancy, the matter will be impossible. 1 If 
possible' is added to the old birds; surely it might be ex¬ 
tended to the junior branches.—H. B. S., Monmouthshire.” 
[Our opinion having been constantly given, that the re¬ 
quisition of the precise age of chickens serves no practical 
good, will account for our not more particularly attending to 
the demand for their “ exact ayes," required at the ap¬ 
proaching Exhibition of the “Bath and West of England 
; Society.” Little, if any, assistance is thus rendered to the 
I Judges; and false representations have so often occurred, 
! that the honest exhibitor is thus frequently placed at great 
disadvantage. “ Above one year," and “ under one year," are, 
j probably, the wisest distinctions.—W.] 
DELICACY OF DORKING CHICKENS. 
“ Do you ever hear that the Grey Dorking, when young, 
is very delicate ? A. P. finds that when they are about three 
weeks old they droop their wings; drink excessively of water; 
the discharge from them is very frequent and milky. A. P. 
had a fine brood of seven, and has lost four in the same 
manner as he has mentioned, and fears he will lose them 
all. They have been fed on barley and Indian meal, boiled 
eggs, and a little mutton chopped fine and mixed with some 
onion, as was recommended for young chicken, in the Cot¬ 
tage Gardener, Number 288. They had a good run in a 
sunny situation in the garden.—A. P.” 
[Dorking chickens enter on a critical period of their 
existence when some ten days or a fortnight old; the pro¬ 
cess of feathering then appearing to create a severe drain 
upon their strength. This is a circumstance upon which so 
many similar complaints are reiterated, that we cannot but 
ascribe a greater degree of constitutional delicacy to the 
Dorking at this age than is usually to be observed in fowls 
of any other breed. The discharge you allude to would 
indicate roup, a disease often consequent on an unhealthy 
state in other respects. Oatmeal is a valuable change of 
diet for all chickens; especially should we recommend it 
where they are not prosperous on other food.—W.] 
FOWLS WITH DISEASED LUNGS. 
“ I have just lost the best of my Cochins, a cock. The 
symptoms were, six weeks ago, a rattling as of phlegm in 
j the throat, and an inability to [crow. He went through 
I the operation, but no sound came forth. There was no loss 
of appetite, no lividity of eye, no discharge from the nostril, 
until a day or two ago; it was then ‘ an appearance of 
moisture’—no actual discharge. 
“ I thought this must be Croup, and gave him daily doses 
of tartar emetic and hippo powder. That having no 
salutary etfect, I tried the prescription in “ Richardson’s 
Hand-Book ;" viz., gentian, Epsom salts, sulphur, hippo 
powder, as therein mentioned ; no use. I then tried cod’s 
liver oil; and finally, as a last resource, acting as on a child 
with Croup, I gave him a teaspoonful and a half of 
ipecacuanha wine for an emetic, in order to remove the 
phlegm ; but I suppose, from the construction of a fowl, 
an emetic is incapable of acting as such. 
“ The last fortnight I have left him alone, and though fed 
every day on the most nourishing food he has died. 
“ I have a valuable Hen in the same way; the rattling in 
the throat, heavy breathing, panting evident under the 
rump to the legs; after this grunting sort of noise she 
sneezes, endeavouring to bring up the phlegm. 
“ No fowls can be kept in a drier, or a warmer situation; 
their roosting-house being a stable (with loft over) inside a 
coach-house; a wide gravel-walk, with the run of a field. I 
immediately removed the birds to a room with a wooden 
floor; letting them out, in the middle of the day, in the sun. 
“As to putting a tube in the nostril, and injecting solution 
of zinc, etc., die., it is far too nice an operation, and, in my 
humble opinion, useless. Surely there must be something 
that would detach the phlegm. 
“ I shall try squills, unless you give me better advice, 
which, pray do.—A Roup, or Crouf, Sufferer, Exeter." 
[The symptoms described are evidently those of inflam¬ 
mation of the lungs, which disease has been very prevalent 
lately, owing to the rapid alternation of warm weather with 
cold northerly winds. This disease is always dangerous, 
and success must not be looked for in all cases. The best 
treatment is, calomel with ipecaeuan or tartar emetic, say 
one grain of calomel with two of ipecaeuan, given at night, 
for two evenings successively. Tartar emetic given daily, as 
practiced, would seriously endanger any fowl; and, as there 
were no symptoms of roup, the dropping of any solution 
into the nostrils was not required.—W. B. T.] 
HOUSEKEEPING. 
MAKING BRAWN. 
The following is in answer to several correspondents :— 
The mode of making Brawn, in Cheshire, is in this man¬ 
ner :—The chowl or cheeks are separated from the head of 
the pig, and salted with the bacon. The remainder, or bony 
portions of the head, with a few fragmentary pieces, scraps, 
ifec., are then well cleansed, well boiled for four or five 
hours, and/ every piece of bone extracted. Seasoning is 
now added according to fancy; such as pepper and salt, 
mace, cayenne, Ac., or any thing else the maker may fancy. 
It is then moulded; and for this purpose a special tin is 
used, containing holes, colandar-fasliion, to let the liquid 
escape on pressure by a weight at top. 
MOUNT VERNON, AND THE MEMORY OF 
WASHINGTON. 
When Washington died, Mount Vernon was a beautiful 
spot. The house—the lawn sloping down to the river—the 
gardens—the roads—the gateways—the old trees—every¬ 
thing indicated care and taste. For years afterwards when 
visitors came there, they were shown the chair in which he 
used to sit, and the marble mantle-piece and the key to the 
Bastile, sent to him from France by Lafayette—and a 
hundred other relics, preserved with jealous care by the 
family. And until recently they found there a grey haired 
negro, a faithful and attached servant of Washington, who 
kept the key to the enclosure where his master’s tomb was 
situated. It was his greatest pride and pleasure to talk by 
the hour of “Massa Washington,” and to relate the incidents 
of his life and death. Then he would take you down to the 
vault itself, on whose steps he had so long sat sentinel, and 
as he approached, his voice would sink to a reverential 
whisper. 
There was an air of quiet neatness everywhere.—The 
tolling of some steamboat bell was (he only sound that 
broke the solemn stillness. There was something every¬ 
where to remind you of the respect due to the grave where 
! Washington lay buried. 
Go to mount Vernon now. After toiling up the long, 
I sandy road from Alexandria, you come to the shady entrance. 
| There was a gate once, but it has fallen down, and you drive 
over it. The lodge that stands near it is delapidated and 
empty. The avenue to the house is overgrown with grass 
| and weeds. A crumbling brick wall on one side shuts off 
the neglected flower garden. The house looks old and 
| decaying. One of the posts of the veranda has fallen out, 
j and the roof is cracked and bent, over it. Moss grows on 
the door step. There is no guide to show you on the way, 
[ but there is a low range of hovels on one side, from which 
| two or three ragged negro boys run out, to offer you a 
hickory stick, rs a relic of Mount Vernon—for a sixpence, 
i You follow a winding footpath down towards the river side. 
