January 13. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENEK. 
287 
entirely by dung linings, and few cucumber growers 
have attained a greater degree of distinction than he has; 
but since the easy application of hot-water, few pits are 
built with the many internal contrivances necessary 
there without having hot-water added also. Rut there 
are many make-shifts which answer the purpose equally 
well; a pile of rough timber, laid as open as possible, 
with the box-frame placed on the top, and surrounded 
with linings, forms a very good hotbed, and one in which 
many things may be grown as well as on the best-con- 
I trived structure to which fire-heat is applied. This, of 
course, depends on the attention paid to lining, and 
other things ; but for very early forcing, with only dung 
as a heating material, I would certainly advise the 
frame to be raised in such a manner. A few rough 
blocks, placed in such a way as to give scope for apply¬ 
ing the dung on all sides, and partially underneath as 
well, which is done by having the bottom of the pile 
more narrow than the top, taking care, however, that it 
is sufficiently steady not to topple over, and, as I have 
said, as open as possible, because it is those interstices 
which form the chambers serving as reservoirs of heat; 
a firm material may be at top, and finally the mould on 
which the plants are expected to grow. The difficulties 
of tliis plan is obtaining a sufficient amount of atmo- 
s]iheric heat, after the bed is covered over a fair depth 
with soil; but that is overcome by applying brisk linings, 
and keeping some places inside comparatively thin of 
soil, to allow tlie heated air to pass through without 
losing much of its warmth on its journey. Another 
point must be attended to, which is, never to have the 
pile of open work too high, because the linings must 
always be shewing above, otherwise the heat, instead of 
penetrating the mass of earth, &c., as required, would 
escape by the vacancy between the bottom of the dung-box 
and top of the lining. Thatched hurdles, or some other 
shelter, will be wanted to prevent drying winds cooling 
the dung linings too much. This attention, however, 
does not extend so far as to present any formidable dif¬ 
ficulties; and as dung may be used fresh from the yai’d, 
without any preparation whatever, it becomes a matter 
of labour only, and even this is not so much more 
than that required for the formation of the ordinary 
dung-bed, and maintaining it in its proper state of heat, 
and at a time when it can derive but little or none from 
the atmosphere. But I will return to this subject again. 
In the mean time, I advise the amateur to look around 
and see what can be liad for this structure amongst 
the things he has at command; and many makeshifts 
serve a purpose like this equally as well as the most 
perfectly-made pit erected by mechanical skill, directed 
by scientific principles; but, as in many other things, 
the secret of success lies in the due attention to many 
minor matters. John Robson. 
A FAULT AMONG US. 
i/ie Authoress of “Jl/y Flowers,” itc. 
It appears to mo that there is “ utterly a fault ” among 
us. I do not know whether out-door relief iu every Union 
is managed in the same way, but in one, I can truly say, 
“ widows are neglected in the weekly ministrations.” There 
appears to be very great cruelty in the way this class of 
persons arc treated by the poor laws; they are most par¬ 
ticularly regariled by God’s law, and lie has recommended 
them specially to the protection of man; but in the ad¬ 
ministration of the poor law, in at least one Union, there is, 
it seems to me, “ utterly a fault.” 
It is said in the Word of God, by the Apostlo Paul, in 
regard to his not wishing to be bimlensomo to the Uorinth- 
ians — “For the children ought not to lay up for the 
parents, but the parents for the children.” Now the Union, 
at least one Union, throws the widow entirely upon her 
children for support, and denies her relief at all, or only 
partial relief, where her children are grown up, and able to 
work for their bread. Surely tliis is a-ucl. Can anything 
be more distressing to a mother, than to be dependant upon 
her chiklren ; to feel that every mouthful she eats is taken 
from them, and to have nothing of her own, but to bo com¬ 
pelled to iis/c from her own offspring for every little article 
she wants? Which of the framers of such a law would 
himself stand, or leave his widow to stand, in such a painful 
position ? I repeat, there is utterly a fault amongst us. 
Thomas Edwards and his wife were rather above the 
common lot of labourers. He had a horse and cart, and 
gained his living in various out-door ways. He had a piece 
of allotment ground, too, and got on comfortably. He was 
not a matt of much loveliness of character certainly; he 
was greatly given to drink, although not what is generally 
called a drunkard; and his wife had by no means a light 
burden to carry on her pilgrimage with him ; but she was a 
steady, light-thinking, hard-working creature, and brought 
lier family up well and respectably. They were never 
running in the streets, but kept at home, taught to be clean, 
honest, and hard-working, and whatever was shown them of 
good, was by her precei)t and example. In time they all 
married. One daughter lived in the next cottage, the other 
settled in London, and the son took a coachman’s place, and 
married in London too. As Edwards advanced in life, he 
was subject to severe attacks of illness, which often laid 
him by. At length the complaint from which he suffered 
became conlirmed, and his powers gradually weakened. He 
worked when he ought not to have worked, because he had 
only his own exertions to depend upon, but he used, when 
he could, to send his little grandson with the cart, or got 
some other man to go for him. I’oor riioebe looked anxious 
and woe-begone; she had at all times a troubled look—and 
well she might—but now she saw her husband breaking-up, 
and expenseSjConiing upon lier, and whenever she did smile, 
it was a very watery one indeed. 
At last Edwards became so ill that it was thought de¬ 
sirable to get him into a London Hospital as a last hope. 
There was n possibility of an operation prolonging his life ; 
iu the language of the world, it was his only chance, and he 
w’as accordingly removed to town. I’oorl’lnebe walked about 
her cottage like a ghost wlien her husband was gone. Joy 
had long departed from her face, but now many cares and 
sorrows were painted there, and the tliought of the agony 
Thomas must sutler distracted her, and she fancied every 
day might be the one chosen for the last chance. Her 
good daughter, Sarah, was her prop and stay; and Rill, her 
son-in-law, rose up and treated her like his real mother. 
Friends called to see and cheer her, and she heard tolerable 
accounts of Thomas from their son, who was able to go to 
him, his master being out of town. A few weeks, which felt 
like years to I’hoebe, passed in this way. Hope upheld her; 
but slie had had no letter for some days, and began to feel 
more then usually anxious. 
One night, about nine o’clock, a tap at the door was heard, 
and in walked her sou from London. He came to take her 
to the deatli-bed of her husband. 'The operation was over; 
it had promised well, but symptoms suddenly came on that 
battled all skill, and I’lnebe must start by the first train in 
the morning. No one can tell how she gotthrough the night, 
or her journey, but she reached London too late; at the 
very hour she stepped into the train, 'Thomas breathed his 
last. 
I’hcebe was very ill for a long time after her return. She 
could neither sloop nor eat. The funeral expenses lay 
heavily upon her; tho horse and cart was a burden upon 
her mind; she had no husband to lean upon, broken reed 
as he had been ; and her futurity was all misty before her. 
She, however, was brought to look to the Strong for strength; 
she was greatly supported under tho load of her difficulties ; 
her friends were interested for her, and her daughter and 
son-in-law the kindest of the kind. 
In the coiu'so of a little time she sold her cart and horse, 
and crop of barley ; paid her poor husband’s funeral account, 
her rent, and what other little things she owed, and took up 
her abode in her daughter’s house. When she could say, 
with truth, that she had nothiny, she went humbly to tho 
Board of Guardians to ask for relief. She was strictly 
questioned, of course, but was told she could work in the 
fields for her bread. 'This went to her heait. She had 
