February 19. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER, 
323 
effects of drinking. In the sight of God it is an abomina¬ 
tion ; it is one of the “ works of the lies!),” “ of the which,” 
St. Paul says, “ I tell you before, as I have also told you in 
time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit 
the kingdom of God.” This ought to be enough to make 
the practice of drinking terrible in our eyes; but men are 
so ready and glad to shut their eyes to God’s law, and to 
that which he loves or hates, that it is well to bring before 
them the sure consequences, even in this world, of indulg¬ 
ing in the works of the flesh. 
I remember, a great many years ago, the death of a man 
in our own parish, entirely from excess of drinking. He 
was scarcely middle-aged, a blacksmith, and possessing the 
business of the immediate neighbourhood; but his love of 
beer ruined body and soul. Of course, he began gently at 
first, as most people do; but when I first remember him it 
was beginning to tell upon his constitution, and pitiable was 
it to see him drawing nearer and nearer to the gates of 
death. At first he began to look pale and sodden, and then 
his body seemed to become too heavy for the thin legs that 
upheld it. He went about the village leaning on a stick, 
the image of misery and disease; liis step became slower 
and heavier; his business was carried on by some one else ; 
and, at last, he was seen no more. He took to the house, 
then to his bed, and then he went down to the grave. 
Another tradesman trod the same downward path a few 
years afterwards. He was also a man doing well in the 
world—with an active wife, a clean home, and a young 
family rising round him—but nothing could wean him from 
beer, and at an early age it killed him. He died in great 
bodily pain and distress, in which he had lain some time ; 
but what could this have been to the remorse and horrors 
of the soul ? 
The practice and love of drinking, when it does not go so 
far and fast as in the above-named cases, is always deplor¬ 
able and wretched. I have seen it in the case of an old 
man who has worked on the same property almost all his 
life, who was honest, hard-working, quiet, and inoffensive 
in his general habits when out of harm’s way, but who would 
not help getting intoxicated whenever beer or a beer-house 
crossed his path. He never went on an errand in his life 
that he did not come home with a red face, talking thick, 
and not knowing what he was saying. He was not to be 
trusted beyond the fields and woods, where he was master 
of his business, and did his work steadily and well; but if 
sent to the village for nails, or anything connected with his 
craft, he was seen no more until night. 
His poor wife used to be in great trouble about him. She 
said he had never been strong in the head since a fall he 
had from the top of a coach, and she would peep about in 
great anxiety for him when he was gone on business for his 
master. Poor thing! she said and did all she could for 
him, but it was all in vain. William loved beer, and would 
have it whenever he could. If his head was weak, his 
passion for drink was strong, and there was no making 
anything of him. His own wife’s words were the most 
expressive: “ When William has had a drop too much,” she 
said, “ he is bedlam.” 
When poor Hannah died, William’s glory departed. He 
had a cottage of his own, but without his wife he could not 
live in it happily as he did before. He had to pay for 
washing, mending, &c., besides his beloved beer, and he 
sadly missed his companion when he sat beside his evening 
fire. He suddenly, however, professed to have left off going 
to beer-houses, and to all appearance a change for the better 
had taken place. He became, apparently, a religious cha¬ 
racter, one which he had never before pretended to, and his 
whole look and manner certainly did give hope that the 
change was a real one. While this lasted, which it did for 
three or four years, all was quiet and well. He worked when 
he could, but infirmities often interrupted him, and his 
strength began to break fast. He was, however, so deter¬ 
mined to keep up his wages after his power failed, that those 
who employed him were obliged to seek more able-bodied 
workmen, and William often found himself for days and 
weeks without anything to do. His good resolutions, had 
they been sincere and built on a sure foundation, would now 
have stood the trial of the winds and waves that beat against 
them; but, alas, the love of drink arose and shook itself, 
and proved that there was no work of grace within. He has 
often been met going home, not actually tipsy, but so near 
it that it was evident he had been sitting long and con¬ 
tentedly in the way of sin and sinners, and, after all he had 
said about his change of heart and affections, it was a 
grievous sight to see. The leaves of profession had been 
thick and abundant in the old man, but there was nothing 
like fruit which man’s eye could see, beneath them. 
He lives now under the charge of a tidy couple who lodge 
with him ; but it is a comfortless, half-sober, old age. He 
has been deaf for many years, yet lie contrives to know all 
the news of the neighbourhood, picked up, most probably, 
in the beer-houses. AVorthless, worse than worthless em¬ 
ployment for an immortal soul. 
He may often be seen walking about, sometimes carrying 
a faggot, and occasionally engaged in task-work, as a hedger 
and ditcher, which he can still carry on. His head and 
countenance are particularly fine and striking, and he is the 
complete picture of a Avoodman while busy at his Avork. 
But his strength is failing fast; the grashopper Avill soon be 
a burden, and the day is at hand when beer and beer-houses 
must be left behind. It is a sad and pitiable sight to see 
old age cleaving to these abominations in ever so slight a 
degree. Men are often blinded to their real state before 
God because they do not sin so broadly and openly as 
others ; but the crime is the same, and, if not repented of, 
will bring remorse and punishment at the last. To see any 
man turning in at the door of a “pitfall” is terrible; but 
when tbe man has one foot in the grave, Avhen the hoary 
head and failing faculties cry aloud that “ the Lord is at 
hand,” it is a sight doubly dreadful. It utters a loud and 
bitter cry to all. 
Let us strive to avoid the first approaches of sin, and 
watch ourselves narrowly, lest we cherish an “ accursed 
thing ” in our bosoms. Let us not “ thank God, and take 
courage,” because Ave are better than our neighbours; but 
let us examine our Avalk and conversation by God's Word, 
and then Ave shall not be in danger of rating ourselves too 
highly. While we have time and light, let us walk in the 
light, lest we deceive' ourselves, and go on contentedly to 
our ruin. 
THE GOLDEN AND THE SILVER PHEASANTS. 
There is in some birds an inherent shyness, an inability 
to bear the eye of man upon their movements, a tendency 
to hide in holes and corners, or in thickets and stony hiding- 
places, or to delight in crepuscular habits—enjoying the twi¬ 
light of morning and evening, aiql moonlight nights, but 
hating the sunshiny glare of day, which renders them radi¬ 
cally incapable of domestication. This shrinking timidity 
is exhibited by the golden pheasant, and seems really 
invincible, though in public exhibitions despair keeps them 
quiet. We have better hopes in cases Avhere this obstinately 
retiring disposition is absent; and the courage, pugnacity, 
and self-possession of the silver pheasant Avas no doubt 
the cause why Temminck, who seems to haA r e known the 
bird only as an occupant of aviaries, expresses his sanguine 
hopes of attaching it to our poultry-yards. I thus translate 
his Avords, in order to determine Avliat may be expected from 
the bird he patronises :—“ If Ave consider the black and 
white pheasant of China Avith regard to its natural dispo¬ 
sition, as well as to its external form, Ave shall find in this 
species much resemblance to the birds which compose the 
genus Gallus; it is tamed Avith the greatest facility, and may 
be made to become an entirely domestic bird. Its consti¬ 
tution, which is more hardy than that of the other species 
of pheasants, also brings it into alliance Avith the cocks. 
Like these latter, it only requires ordinary attention; the 
rearing of the young does not demand the assiduous care 
Avhich is necessary for those of the other species of Avhich 
we shall have occasion to speak.” Bennet’s “ Zoological 
Gardens Delineated” expresses, on the same grounds, the 
same hope of domesticating the silver pheasant. 
Reading these things, therefore, I determined to inquire 
further about the bird, and make some experiments. A 
creature of such beauty ought to be made to strut about our 
country residences, like the pea-foAvl or turkey, if no insu 
perable impediment exists. From one correspondent I 
heard as follows :— 
“ I quite agree Avith your high estimation of the personal 
