January 27 . 
THE COTTAGE GARDENEE. 
liis kindness, robbed and deceived him, and tried to injiu'e 
liis character, too, for lier own ends. 
Since then she has been greatlj- afflicted, somehow or 
other, in her limbs; it was painful to see her creeping down 
the street upon crutches, scarcely able to move one foot 
before the other, and evidently in great pain. The expres¬ 
sion of her face was always bad, but it seemed to grow 
worse; aitd ns she came and went on her weary way to 
church, or the shop, no friend looked pleasantly at her, or 
used to ask her how slie was. We have the highest warrant 
for knowing, that “ Godliness hatli tlie promise of the life 
that now is, as well as of that wliich is to come." Poor 
Betsey’s “ life ’’ was not one of promUe; it seemed to be 
one of desolation and pain, as well as of want (jf reputation, 
and altogether she was a melancholy spectacle as she 
laboured onwards. 
One day, about a month ago, we ourselves happened to 
I see her creeping onwards in her long cloak, bent down as 
usual, and “ hirpling,’’ as the Scotch say, with her customary 
difficulty. AVe had, I believe, only just turned out of the 
village, when she was seen to reel and fall, and lie help¬ 
lessly on the ground. The neighbours raiseil her with some 
effort, and carried her into her cottage, where a bed was 
made on the kitchen door, and she was laid in it. There 
I she hns remained till this hour, and there she will remain 
i until she stands before the Great AVhite Throne. 
For some days she was scarcely sensible, but her senses 
■ have returned, so that she can at times talk and listen; but, 
as a neighbour said, “ her hands and her tongue are all of 
her that can move;’’ she is otherwise powerless, and lies 
like a log upon the bed, in the little narrow comfortless 
kitchen where she had lived so long, a melancholy sight. 
Two of her neighbours, who are blessed with “ bowels of 
I mercy,” take it by turns to sit up with her. They say she is 
; thankful and guiet,but dreadful to move, from her cries and 
helplessness. The slate of her mind is far worse than her 
body—hard, unconcerned, and satisfied with herself! Half 
wandering at times, yet contented because the depths within 
have never been broken up, she lies a spectacle at present to 
men and angels. “ Oh that men were wise, that they under¬ 
stood this, that they would consider their latter end!” To 
those who speak to her of her spiritual state, she returns 
hard, indift'erent answers; but while life is prolonged, there 
is yet hope that the day of grace may not be past. 
1 would earnestly entreat my humble readers to ponder 
this in their hearts. I would suggest to those of a higher 
class to put this paper into the hands of such as are em¬ 
ployed in their gardens and farms, because it may, by Goil’s 
blessmg, touch some heart going on still in its wickedness, 
and perhaps in the very way that Betsey went. She lived 
without raising one kindly feeling; no one liked her, or 
diu’ed to go near her, because of the language she used. 
Her house was the abode of sin. She robbed and injured a 
truslinp and good master on earth, and became greatly, won¬ 
derfully afflicted in her body. Everyone shunned and 
thought ill of her. She lived without God in the world, and 
has been struck down before the eyes of man, and laid 
helplessly aside. She is really the most desolate object 
possible, because, though kind offices are performed for 
her, she has no friend —no one to bid God bless her. Sin 
will always find us out. 
Oh ! let all who are unfaithful to God and man remember 
that punishment must conn?, and that none can be so dread- 
j fill, so horrible, as calmness and inditt'erence on tbe bed of 
deatli! Better to suffer agonies of terror than cold self¬ 
contentedness ! “ Ephraim is joined to idols : let him 
alone!” Oh ! what tongue can tell what it is to be let alone 
of God! No working, no awakening of tbe Spirit; but to 
bo left even wdiile in the bod}’, in the cold hopeless sleep of 
death! 
Let my humble readers “ awake and arise from the dead,” 
now wdiile there is time for repentance, “ and Christ shall 
give them light.” If they could see Betsey as she lies now, 
they would feel that but “ one thing is needful,” and seek 
grace to choose “ that good part tliat shall not be taken 
from them.” 
ALLOTMENT FARMING— Eebruary. 
Surely it is high time that this month changed its wonted 
habit. A “ fill dyke ” month is not exactly the thing that 
the cultivators of the soil require; and we have had a 
tolerable share of moisture already. Surely the oldest 
man living cannot call to mind such an extraordinary winter, 
if such it may be called, as we have partly passed. 
Here we are, then (January Kith), after undergoing 
nearly a quarter-of-a-year of dullness, almost incessant rain, 
and a total absence of frost, or, at least, any worthy the 
1 name, in November, Hecember, or January. This state of 
affairs has throwui cultural transactions into such a puzzling 
I position, that men groivn grey in the service scarcely know 
. how to proceed. However, one thing is certain—surplus 
waters must be got rid of, soils must be exposed to the air, 
and this in as little time as possible. The spring, with 
its cropping, is pressing hard upon us, and “ he gives twice, 
‘ who gives quickly,” may be borne in mind. 
And first, drainage —who has not better appreciated its 
importance than ever he did before? The question of its 
propriety remains precisely the same, but the recent ex¬ 
cessive period had been a good illustration of the singular 
utility of drainage on stagnant or adhesive soils. AVhen a 
writer adi'ises sharp attention to drainage, and the ameli¬ 
oration of the staple soil, during a fine, dry, and mellow 
period, people are apt to tliink that he is straining a point. 
But if he be a “ true prophet,” the recurrence of damaging 
' periods will plainly show that, although seasons may vary, 
; may have “ a run,” may prove very capricious for a 
lengthened time—yet, that cultural principles, based on j 
averages, and backed by both science and practice, will at 
last have to be resorted to, if progress be the word. 
And now what shall we do? This is the main question , 
under existing circumstances. To those who have omitted 
putting our drainage advice into practice in due time, we 
[ say, open temporary water-courses wherever possible, if 
( needed. If only for a few weeks, tiy and coax all water 
I away, in order that the air may enter the pores of the soil; 
for even the poorest of our allotment friends must know’ 
that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at once. If 
any doubt this, let him fill a gallon vessel with water, and 
then pour in a gallon of any soil, or, indeed, any substance, 
and he will find the heaviest body speedily displace tbe 
lighter. But our old-fashioned country-bred men, who have 
never been to Oxford, will scarcely believe that water is a 
body, or that air is a thing demanding space. But so it is, 
and our good friend, Mr. Fish, could tell a pretty tale, in 
his philosophising W’ay, about the old geranium in the 
cottage window’, and would, doubtless, show how’ it was that 
when this old pet became very dry, and water was applied, 
tbe soil continued to throw up bubbles, and made a gurgling 
sound for several minutes. Before the air, which is the 
great improver, can enter soils to benefit them, depend 
on it the water must be removed; and it is not a question 
of air alone, the returning warmth of spring is by such 
means conducted to the soil—yea, to the very subsoil 
And now the time is at hand in w'hich digging or trenching 
must be performed; hitherto, doubtless, delayed by the 
extraordinary winter. Everybody know's, full well, that 
there are periods set for the getting in of certain crops, and 
that it is well to come as near to those periods as possible. 
So nice a point was this esteemed in our younger days, that 
tile gardener about the great Metropolis who did not sow 
his caulifiowers on the filth of August, and his early pens 
about Lord-Mayor’s day, was not considered an orthodox 
character. It so turns out, however, that under extraordi¬ 
nary circumstances we may with propriety depart from such 
rules; and really the character of the past season would 
seem to warrant such a procedure. . . i 
It does appeal’, therefore, that the coming spring will bo 
late as to operative measures, and unless a singularly dry 
period occurs, when we have little right to expect it, 
both sowing and planting will of necessity prove protracted 
matters. This must put our friends on their guard, and 
wo add a maxim well known to practical men—better sow 
late than sow badly.” And now for the digging and 
manuring necessary for the various crops ; the time is at 
hand that such nuist bo carried out. Still, let us add, rather 
postpone the operation than dig ground in a wet state. In 
