320 
THE COTTAGE GARDENEE. 
January 27 . 
some time before being put in; but tins is not absolutely 
necessary, because some little time elapses before the 
roots of the plant reach that part of the bed which has 
least access to the air, during which time it will have 
amalgamated itself with the objects surrounding it. We 
may observe, that amongst the soils to which Asparagus 
has a great aversion, is the one in which iron predomi¬ 
nates; this soil, which shews itself so conspicuously by 
little pools of water having a sort of skin on their top, 
and tbe bottom, after it has receded, will appear red 
and rusty—this soil is highly injurious to the Aspa¬ 
ragus, and when this predominates in a neighbourhood, 
we have little hopes of success there, except by extra-j 
ordinary means. Lime and chalk are less objectionable, 
although they are not the proper food for this plant i 
either. The rich alluvial soils of the vale of the ; 
Thames is more the debris of other things, and we do j 
not know any place where such good Asparagus is 
grown. But a fair share of success will attend the 
cultivator who takes the trouble, as above, in dry, hungry 
soils. The damp thin ones, of a retentive character, 
require different treatment; they want additional soil, 
without excavation. In other words, whatever is added 
thereto must be done so as to raise the plot above the 
general level of the adjoining ground; for we have no 
hesitation in saying, that to excavate the subsoil, which 
we take to be clay, and fill in some six inches or more 
of loose stones and other drainage, and then fill in the 
top earth, is worse than useless, uidess there be an 
elficient outlet for all water collected in the stratum 
below, which is not always the case; besides whicli, 
ground of a decidedly stiff nature has a tendency to 
convert other soils that may be as far from the surface 
as itself into a like stiff chai-acter. These, and other 
reasons, lead us to prefer making new Asparagus beds on 
ridges elevated above the natural ground, in order that 
the stagnant moisture may be so far avoided as not to 
do much harm; it is likewise advisable to use porous 
substances in this mixture with more freedom than in 
the preparation of beds on the light, open soils first 
adverted to, because the adhesive nature of everything 
surrounding it will render that more necessary. 
As it is important that beds intended for permanent 
use bereafter should be well made, and not denied any¬ 
thing likely to ensure their well-being, yet it is equally 
necessary that all operations should be done when the 
ground is tolerably dry; it is, therefore, as well to leave 
it undone until spring, when it may be performed 
without that plunging and treading which is disastrous 
to soils at this wet season of the year. The planting 
may be then done likewise, if one-year-old plants be 
jireferred; but some sow at once where they are to 
remain; and some sow early in spring, on some good 
border, and plant out in Jirly or so, when the seedlings 
will move without loss. Whichever way be adopted, 
it is better to avoid that heavy crop of vegetables which 
many, in their anxiety, seem determined to have on 
ground they have treated so liberally to dung, forgetting, 
at the same time, the injury it does to the legitimate 
occupant of the bods. This, however, is more a matter 
for after-consideration; but the material for the maker 
of the beds may be prepared in the meantime, so that 
when the fitting time does come everything may be 
ready. The plan of sowing or planting dift’ei’s much 
with many cultivators; but, usually, rows two feet 
apart are thought best; and two or three years after¬ 
wards every third one taken away, leaving a space 
I'or an alley, which is also not without its uses, for 
summer vegetables may be cultivated there when shade 
and moisture may bo denied them elsewhere. There 
are many other modes, and all tending to the same end. 
J. Robson. 
THE GARDEN PILFERER. 
Jii/ the Authoress of “Mij Flowers," iCc. 
Thebe may be, among ray cottage readers, some who are, 
or some who /I'/iow sucli as are, chai'acters very like one I 
am going to remark upon; and, as I doubt not, they are little 
considering the end, to which they are travelling, I would 
earnestly pray their attention to tlie conduct and condition 
of an unhappy woman, whose name I shall call Betsey. 
She bore for many years, and with some persons, the 
reputation of being a kind daughter to an aged, bed-ridden 
mother; but her neighbours couhl have told a very ditt'erent 
tale if they had chosen. She had been always used to out¬ 
door work, and when she was middle-aged she became a 
regular weeder, and useful garden-woman, in the employ¬ 
ment of a gentleman in the neighbourhood. She was so 
active and handy in her work that she became a great 
favourite, and was allowed to pick up snap-wood, and often 
received her apronful of vegetables, with other little per¬ 
quisites, such as favoured servants receive from their em¬ 
ployers. Her poor old mother died, and Betsey, having 
only herself to provide for, got on very well. Her wood- 
house began to be so full of faggots that they poked their 
way out at every crevice ; only, as she was out all day, and 
only needed a fire at night, people could not put their finger 
upon anything against her. 
Fruit and vegetables have no legs or feet, it is well known; 
but those in the garden of Betsey’s master disappeared in a 
marvellous manner. Trees stripped themselves of goose¬ 
berries, apples, cherries, Jtc., as if by fairy hands ; no one 
could tell how they went, or where they were gone. Betsey 
looked extremely distressed and innocent, but privately gave 
her master to understand, that “ the young gentlemen were 
always m the garden after the fruit when his back was 
tm’ned,” and no doubt they were the offenders. It is very 
difficult for boys to clear themselves of charges such as 
these ; but other members of the family, who knew them to 
be false, began to suspect the person who made them. The 
other persons employed about the house had worked there 
for years, and were well known ; but there was a something 
about Betsey, both in look and manner, that was not open 
and honest, and, altogether, she became an object of doubt 
to all but her unsuspecting master. 
It was a very long time, some years, during which all this 
was going on; but at last a rumour reached the family, that 
was closely enquired into; and it was found that Betsey had 
all this time been secretly selling fruit and vegetables in the 
village, assuring her neighbours that her master had en¬ 
trusted them to her to sell for his own profit, and that if 
she did not get the money for them, and take it down regu¬ 
larly to him, that she should lose her place. Here was a 
I fact, and a foundation to act upon. The suspicions and 
doubtful accusations that had had no effect upon Betsey’s 
master hitherto w'ere now proved to have been no unkind 
and groundless charges ; she was the thief, and the “ young 
gentlemen” were innocent. Of course, she was immediately 
discharged, and then many things came to light which had 
been all dark and mysterious; and the villagers were very 
glad to find that justice had overtaken the guilty at last. 
Some time after this, Betsey went to work for another 
family, at a little distance ; but she was there a very short 
time, and was dismissed for clearly-proved dishonesty, so 
that no doubt remained of her want of character on this 
point. A’^ery strange tales were told of her, too, with regard 
to money, that she had lent money to the man from whom 
, she rented her house, and that “ the writings ” were in her 
, hand as a security. Events have proved that much of this 
i must be true; and how was a poor worker in the fields to 
! amass money ? 
I In the course of time Betsey’s health failed, and she was 
unable to work. None of the neighbours liked lier, or even 
thought well of her. Her landlord was constantly at her 
cottage, and was heard to say she should never want, and 
no one cared therefore to go near her. They did not like 
her ways or her doings. 
AVhen her old master was borne to his last resting place 
by the “cottage gardeners" who had for the longest, 
period rented his allotments, Betsey crawled out of her 
house to see the procession pass. She said he had been 
her only friend; and so, indeed, he had, but she had abused 
