458 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
March 13. 
welfare of the more important crop not being interfered 
with. 
Another division, c, may be also regarded as one par¬ 
taking of a permanent character, it being for Asparagus, 
Sea-kale, Globe Artichokes, and Rhubarb; these being 
all permanent, herbaceous plants, may either be alto¬ 
gether, or the two latter might form distinct rows, 
dividing the cropping of other kinds; but taking the 
whole together, the space they ought to occupy, con¬ 
jointly, might he about one-eighth of the whole, of 
which the Asparagus ought to have at least oue-half. 
But as the cultivation of these things, on a small scale, 
is exactly the same us when done more extensively, the 
directions of former numbers of The Cottage Gar¬ 
dener will do for them. 
We now come to the plot, d, on which the Celery of 
the past season has been growing, and, probably, a little 
of it is still to be found there, while the vacant portion 
has been dug up, and received the full benefit of the 
winter’s frost, which, as everybody knows, has been 
severe enough. Now, however, the season has arrived 
for cropping such ground, it must therefore bo broken 
up very fine, and the crop of Onions sown, as soon in 
March as the ground will admit the operation to be 
done, which may, perhaps, be the middle of the mouth 
in late places; however, the process is the same. The 
kind of Onion to sow might be the Globe, Reading, and 
Deptford, and amongst these Radishes may be sown; 
the Onions themselves may be sown in rows a foot apart 
on all light, dry soils, but on wet, clayey ones, in damp 
neighbourhoods, beds four feet wide, with eighteen-inch 
alleys will be better, as the latter soil will get so 
soddened with the weeding, gathering the crop, and 
other work necessary thereon, as to be unfit for a healthy 
crop long before the Onions can do without it. 
Not having space to enter into the cropping of the 
other division, further than to say, that all vacant ground 
ought to be turned up as soon as possible, we will again 
return to the border, No. 5, and on a nice, warm corner 
sow a little Lettuce, Cauliflower, Brussels Sprouts, and 
Savoy seeds; and a row or two of Walnut-leaved Kidney 
Potatoes may bo planted for early onos, towards the end 
of the month, if the weather is not mild enough before. 
A few Cauliflower plants may be planted out then, and 
any Lettuce plants that can be had then may be 
planted likewise; but we suspect these will be rather 
scarce this season. Observe, we only advise a very few 
of the Cauliflowers being planted for the first supply, 
supposing that there are none of them in hand-lights, 
but when there are any grown so, aud allowed to perfect 
their growth where they have spent the winter, they 
will come in earlier than any transplanted elsewhere. 
More directions will speedily follow on this head; at 
the same time, the amateur will see that most of the 
matters treated of in The Cottage Gardener are 
equally applicable to a small scale as to a largo one. 
J. Robson. 
AMERICAN SKETCHES. 
[We have great pleasure in bringing before our readers 
the following from the pen of the authoress of “ Uncle 
Tom's Cabin," and hope to derive many more from the samo 
periodical.] 
ANDOVER FICTURES. 
OUR WOO D-L ot in winter. 
Our wood-lot! yes, we have arrived at the dignity of own¬ 
ing a wood-lot, and for us simple folk there is something 
invigorating in the thought. To own even a small spot of 
our dear old mother earth hath in it a relish of something 
stimulating to human nature. To own a meadow, with all 
its thousand-fold fringes of grasses, its broidery of monthly 
flowers, and its outsiders of birds, and bees, and gold-winged 
insects, this is something that goes to one’s heart! To own 
a clever patch or a buckweat field is like possessing a self- 
moving manufactory for perfumes and sweetness ; but a 
wood-lot!—rustling with dignified old trees—it makes a man 
rise in his own esteem ; he might take off his hat to himself 
at the moment of acquisition ! 
We do not marvel that the land-acquiring passion becomes 
a mania among our farmers, and particularly we do not 
wonder at the passion for wood-land. That wide, deep 
chasm of conscious self-poverty and emptiness which lies at 
the bottom of every human heart, making men crave pro¬ 
perty as something to add to one’s own specific levity, is 
sooner filled by-land than anything else. 
Your hoary New-England farmer walks over his acres 
with a grim satisfaction. He sets his foot down with a hard 
stamp; here is reality! no moonshine bank stock! no 
swindling railroads! Here is his bank, and there is no 
defaulter here! All is true, solid, and satisfactory; he 
seems anchored to this life by it. So Pope, with fine tact, 
makes the old miser, making his will on his death-bed, after 
parting with everything, die, clinging to the possession of 
his land. He disposes with many a groan of this and that 
house, aud this and that stock aud security, but at last the 
manor is proposed to him. 
“The manor! hold! he cried, 
Not that; I can nut part with that ! —and died ! ” 
In such terms we discoursed yesterday,—Herr Professor \ 
and myself, while jogging along in an old-fashioned chaise, ; 
to inspect a few acres of wood-lot, the acquisition of which 
had let us, with great freshness, into these reflections. 
Does any fair lady shiver at the idea of a drive to the 
woods on the first of February; let me assure her that in 
the coldest season Nature never wants her ornaments full 
worth looking at. 
See here, for instance! let us stop the old chaise, aud get 
out a minute to look at this brook;—one of last summer’s 
pets;—what is he doing this winter ? Let us at least say 
“ how do you do ” to him. Ah, here he is! and he and 
Jack Frost together have been turning the little gap in tlie 
old stone wall through which he leaped down into the road, 
into a little grotto of Antiparos. Some old rough rails and 
boards that dropped over it, are sheathed in plates of trans¬ 
parent silver. The trunks of the black alders are mailed 
with crystal; and the red witch-hazel and yellow oziers 
fringing its sedgy borders, are likewise shining through 
their glossy covering. Around every stem that rises from 
the water is a glittering ring of ice. The tags of the alder, 
and the red berries of last summer’s wild roses glitter now 
like a lady’s pendant. As for the brook, he is wide awake 
and joyful, and where the roof of sheet-ice breaks away, you 
can see his yellow-brown waters rattling and gurgling among 
the stones as briskly as they did last July. Down he springs! 
over the glassy-coated stone wall, throwing new sparkles 
into the fairy grotto around him, and widening daily from 
melting snows and such other god-sends, he goes whizzing 
oil’ under yonder mossy stone bridge, and we lose sight of 
him. It might be fancy, but it seemed that our watery 
friend tipped us a cheery wink as he passed, saying, “ Fine 
weather, sir and madam; nice times these, and in April 
you ’ll find us all right; the flowers are making up their 
finery for the next season; there’s to be a splendid display 
in a month or two.” 
Then the cloud-lights of a wintry sky have a clear purity 
aud brilliancy that no other months can rival. The rose 
tints, and the shading of rose tint into gold, the flossy, filmy 
accumulation of illuminated vapour that drifts across the 
sky in a January afternoon, are beauties far excceediug those 
of summer. 
Neither are trees, as seen in winter, destitute of their 
own peculiar beauty. It is a gorgeous study in summer to 
watch the play of their abundant leafage, we still may 
thank winter for laying bare before us the grand and 
beautiful anatomy of the tree, with all its interlacing net¬ 
work of boughs, knotted on each twig with the buds of next 
year’s promise. The fleecy and rosy clouds look all the 
more beautiful through the dark lace veil of yonder 
magnificent elms ! and the down-drooping drapery of yonder 
