3ro 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
February 10. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER’S PONY. 
I SEND you the enclosed notes for an outline of an 
introductory paper on the subject which I proposed to 
myself. You will see that it prepares the road for sundry 
and singular dis(iuisitions on the economising of draught; 
the education of animal muscular power; the natural, or 
acquirable adaptability of a given animal (or too probably a 
bought, and dearly bought one) to certain tasks; the pro¬ 
bable cost of keep; and the amount of profitable work to 
be calculated on as a set off; the man’s wages according to 
the time lie is occupied in pottering about the stable, etc. 
I believe I have read nearly all the books on horse-tlesh 
easily to be come at, and my general impression is that they 
are too ambitious; the authors mount with their subject; 
they get on the high horse. My friend, Martin Doyle, 
appears to be so much of the same opinion with myself, that 
in his little work for small farmers, an invaluable manual 
for cottage gardeners and farmers, he entirely dissuades 
against keeping any horses at all. 
If I understand rightly the requirements of cottage gar¬ 
deners and small occupiers, such as would be likely to be 
edified by my lucubrations for cottage gardeners, I should 
be inclined to lay down the following propositions:— 
A small allotment, of say from five to twelve statute acres 
of land, either your own, or taken in a good state of cultiva¬ 
tion on a fair lease, or taken cheap for a long lease, for im¬ 
provement, ought to afford a great deal towards the comfort¬ 
able enjoyment of a family, and should jirovide a fair remu¬ 
neration for the undivided attention of a clever labourer; or, 
if his own, should be a little competency for him (such small 
allotments were the very earliest/ree/ioWs that ever existed;. 
I once wrote a paper on their great antiquity; throughout 
the history of the Egyptian soldiers and priests; the Roman 
soldiers (whose“quatuor jugera” (four yoke-lands) were syn¬ 
onymous with peace, retirement, independence); the Saxon 
half-sacred Boclands; the small freeholds of the Belgians, cfcc.; 
and our own old English forty-shilling freeholds, which I sup¬ 
pose may, at the time of the defining of their now nominal 
rental, have been valued at about five shillings per acre. 
This by-the-by ; for in order to make out my case, I had to go 
into the history of the feudal system, as contradistinguished 
from the freehold; and to trace through the one the piro- 
gress of men living in connection with cities, as civilised men; 
and along with the other, the more picturesque, primitive 
life of the shepherd kings of all ages; from the time of the 
great King of the Vale of Gerar, through the proud but 
humble Etruscan nobles, who only held in teniu’e, and let 
to their vassals, whose feeling was 
“ Vita que maacipio null! datur; omnibus usu.” 
(Life itself is not given in freehold; but only on lease.) 
and thence down to the very Affghans, Caffres, and Thi- 
betins of this day, who are mostly feudalists. Y'^ou see this 
is too long and unmanageahle a subject to bring in ; I 
only allude to it now, thinking it might interest you, and 
to shew you that I have looked into my subject: so now 
to return to our mutton. 
Then, I suppose our cottage gardener, of this degenerate 
day, to employ a man, for hire, to do what his prototype in 
ancient days did with his own hands, unless the sad fellow 
had got hold of an unfortunate slave in the wars. But, as 
the keepr of a man-servant, and his wages, is a serious ad¬ 
dition indeed to the expense of the small occupier, who, 
unless a clergyman, or small freeholder, will probably have 
to pay a good round sum in rent and taxes, a horse, super- 
added to a servant, and a fine London carriage added to the 
horse, and then, unless we take care, farewell to rural 
simplicity and chauntings of “ Happy the man whose every 
care a few paternal acres bound." 
The story then becomes, “ It is very pleasant living in 
the country, but then it is so very expensive.” Just so; if 
people will take down with them into the country all their 
miserable cockney habits and stylish notions. If you go to 
Rome you must do as they do in Rome; and if you go to 
live in the country, you are not to do as they do in Rome, 
or in London either; but as as they do, or ought to do, and 
used to do, in the country. This, then, brings me only just 
to my starting point, viz., that an equipage for the country 
need not be exactly the same as one for London; nor the 
0 ouiitry servant as fine a fellow as the London servant. 
PHEASANTS. 
YAu might as well try to have your own dairy and your 
own poultry-yard in Spring Gardens or Bark Lane. 
But as for the better class of your readers, who keep their 
carriages and servants, and live in the country “ en prince,” j 
they will have no need to look into The Cott.4.ge Gar- | 
DENEE for information how to save a penny in their stable [ 
expenses. I purpose not to write for them. Now you ■ 
have my ideas, and some little sketch of my plan, whicli | 
very liijely I shall not adhere to after all! Do you think I 
the “ diggings ” will be worth working out ? And can you I 
tell me how often I might be allowed to appear in my stable 
dress, if I continue in stable mind? “The Cottage Gar¬ 
dener’s Horse” would, perliaps, be better than “Pony.” 
And I must be anonymous.— YYbgyoe. 
[Your programme is too good to be lost. Write as often 
as you like ; the oftener the better.—E d. C. G.] 
[If our readers will refer to page Rl.'i of our last volume, 
they will find a paper under this title, and with this ap¬ 
pendage, “ To be continued.'' We have no excuse if any one 
enquires—YYTiy was it not continued before ?—Ed. C. G.] 
When the chicks are about ten days old they will require 
a larger range than that which the net protection affords. 
To accommodate them, draw it away from tlie coop about 
three inches ; the little things will soon learn their way in 
and out, their increasing strength and activity of limbs 
enabling them now to reach the shelter of the coop, or front, 
quicldy on the alarm of danger; the tit-bits remaining, in 
the mean time, secure from prillage, out of beak’s reach from 
the elder birds. 
The proper time to place the youngsters away from their 
foster-parents into the pheasantry they will point out for 
themselves, by a natural weaning and inclination to roost 
away from the hen at night; or otherwise they become too 
large to gain admittance between the bars of the coop. 
When allowed the society of their elders, the same treat¬ 
ment adopted for the old birds will serve for them ; namely, 
barley and wheat alternately, with the supply of other 
et ceteras advised uiron when I described the pheasantry. 
I lay particular stress upon the item, Inijy-ant-heaps —Pro¬ 
cure these if possible; you thus provide grass, eggs, and 
insects—food, exercise, and amusement all combined. A 
race-course became the medium for an inexhaustible supply 
of this article to us. I wonder liow many wheelbarrow¬ 
loads of this nature our late parish clerk would have the 
hardiness to confess to! Ah! Jones! Jones! fate says, 
press on; nerve, brace, think, and hope for the future; 
treat bygones as bygones. Still, there are objects, bright 
spots of the past, upon which one loves to memorise. 
Oases in the desert, as it were, which one loves to recall for 
the mind to dw'ell upon. “ Our YVill!” Now I always 
maintained an indistinct idea of this domesticated sobriquet, 
that this household apology for a name meant, William 
Jones. Be this, however, as it may—Jones! Jones! when 
shall I look upon your like again ? You, the concentrated 
balm and nard of human kindness; you, of the burly form 
and rubicund face, with the large and the noble heart! 
Surely we should be a happier race of men, could we muster 
—could we fill the w'orld with Jones’s ! prototypes of your¬ 
self, my good and honest old friend ! 
I would not advise an attempt to indulge the Golden 
Pheasants with their liberty; unless, peradventure, a con¬ 
siderable amount of time and patience are at command, and 
then even the observation only applies to tlie male birds; 
once let out the liens, that is, when they have arrived at the 
days of discretion, and you may call, or whistle for them in 
vain. “ She’s gone!” is all that will remain for you as a 
consolation. 'The Silver and Common varieties, of both 
sexes, may be allowed this privilege (excepting during the 
laying season), and premising that a point of feeding is 
adhered to, at stated intervals, three times a-day, within the 
pheasantry, securing them there at the last meal. The 
lock and key is their true, if not the most natural safe¬ 
guard. 
To distinguish the male from the female, it will be 
necessary to wait until they moult, when the masculine 
gender become mottled with their gaudy plumage. The 
