March 20. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
477 
Sir Charles, a very excitable man always, became more 
shaken and weakened, even by the happiness he now 
enjoyed, in having a home and a daughter. He resolved 
to go and settle in one of the Channel Islands, a place he 
liked, where he was unknown, and could enjoy the luxuries 
of life at a very cheap rate, lie would there be quiet and com¬ 
fortable, and his niece would possess many little advantages 
not attainable at cheap places of residence in England. 
Sir Charles did not long possess earthly treasures. Jlis 
health rapidly gave way, and his last request was fulfilled by 
his mourning relative. She closed his eyes, and laid beside 
him in the coffin the blood stained waistcoat of his older 
brother, which he had retained with melancholy alfection 
through his eventful life. In one of those bright and 
beautiful gems of the sea lay the remains of the last of his 
line, unnoticed and unknown, except, perhaps, by one heart, 
| that clung so fondly to him, and did a daughter's part by 
him in his declining age. 
That niece has since disappeared from the view of those 
who felt a strong interest in her dutiful conduct and wished 
| to know more of her. She has, however, been placed above 
want completely by her uncle's will; and the happiness of 
shedding the last ray of sunshine on his heart will ever be 
her own. 
A few years after this event, the following paragraph 
appeared in a London paper;—“Died in London, Matilda, 
i wife of Mr. John Watson, and only child of the late Sir 
| Charles B-.” 
Readers ! thus concludes a true story. The names are 
fictitious; but the circumstances are strictly' correct. It 
! speaks so loudly, that I need scarcely add ray feeble voice 
I to its deep tones. “ Woe unto him that striveth with his 
! Maker.” The potsherds of the earth may strive together, 
but they cannot prevail against Him that fashioneth them. 
The name and lineage of B-, once so high and 
honourable, is clean put out, and no honour rests upon its 
memory. This would be nothing, if wo could feel a sure 
hope that all beyond the bounds of Time was well; but as 
man can only judge of a tree by the fruit it bears, we can 
only lay our hand upon our mouth, and “call upon the 
Lord, while ITc is near.” 
A VISIT TO FOULNESS ISLAND. 
It was one fine morning in autumn, four or five years 
since, that I found myself early, in company with a friend, on 
the Southminster side of Cricksey Ferry, in Essex. The 
ferry at the crossing is about one-fifth-of-a-mile broad ; and 
after shouting for some time, two stalwart watermen made 
their appearance on the opposite bank, and were soon across 
with the ferry-boat. To get a spirited horse into this boat, 
and to keep him there, was both difficult and dangerous ; 
he had to be blindfolded, and the lurching of the vessel and 
the flapping of the sails threw him into a perspiration of 
terror ; the landing was little better. A further drive of 
about four miles brought us to I’aglesham, where we left 
our gig, and through the kind assistance of a farmer, who 
lent us his boat and fisherman, we again embarked on 
another river. These rivers abound with oyster-beds, which 
mostly belong to the farmers whose lands lie upon their 
banks : they range on each side of the channel, and their 
boundaries are indicated by upright poles, the channel being 
left open for the free passage of the vessels. The small, 
plump, rich oysters so celebrated as “ Purfleets and Col¬ 
chester natives ” are procured in these rivers. Much trouble 
and expence is incurred in preserving them, and our boat¬ 
man informed, us that it cost his employer £100 a year to 
guard them from depredation, independent of other cxpences. 
Largo square pits, about two feet deep, are dug along the 
upper margin of the tideway, in which such of the oysters 
as arc dredged up, and not immediately wanted, are de¬ 
posited for future use. Oysters spawn in the months of 
May, June, and July, when they are unfit for the table, and 
are in season during those mouths which have the letter r 
in them. This spawn resembles a spot of candle-grease— 
is about the size of a shilling, and settles down upon the tops 
of stones and other substances, and hardens into shell in 
about twenty-four hours, when it is called “Spat." An 
oyster is considered not to be fully grown until it has attained 
the age of two-and-a-lialf or three years. Large quantities, 
during the dredging season, are sent to London and Holland. 
After an hour's sail down the river, we landed at a small 
cottage on Foulness Island, the largest of a group of 
several lying at the mouth of the Thames, and facing the 
German Ocean ; it has not a single tree upon it so large as 
my arm, at least bad not when I was there, nor a stone 
that I could find the bigness of a walnut. The soil is 
composed of drifted earth and sea sand, forming an alluvial 
deposit; there are no roads, nor materials to make or mend 
them with ; but tracks lead to the different farms, often 
knee-deep in mud. The house we were in search of stood 
prominent before us, about one-third of-a-mile distant, and 
on our starting on foot to reach it, we were told that for 
strangers it would be nearly impracticable; accordingly, we 
took a guide, and his devious windings out of one marsh 
and through another, proved the value of his assistance. 
These marshes resemble the squares on a chess-board, and 
are divided from each other by wide ditches, or canals, 
which drain the water to a lower level, and it is afterwards 
let out at ebb-tide through a sluice-gate made in the sea¬ 
wall. Apropos of these water courses,—in England we call 
them dykes; but in France and Holland dykes are raised 
embankments—a query for etymologists. On reaching the 
farm-house, we met the owner at his door; he had been 
watching our progress through the mud, and gave us a 
hearty welcome; he was one of those jolly, hospitable, 
hard-featured Islanders, who so well represent their climate 
and calling; requesting us to walk in, I looked for a scraper ; 
“We have none,” he remarked, at the same time laying hold 
of a piece of broken rail which stood against the wall, he 
scraped the sides of his boots upon it, and then wiped them 
upon a wisp of straw; we did the same, and entered his 
parlour, or rather “keeping-room.” This contained a curious 
medley of contrarieties; good and showy articles of furniture 
mixed with homely ones ; two large dogs lay on the hearth¬ 
rug, and over the mantlepieco an apparatus, resembling a 
hurdle cut lengthwise, was suspended from the ceiling, to 
hold the powder-flask, ferret-bag, pipes, and nobody knows 
what. Whilst "eyeing these novelties, his wife made her 
appearance ; a good-natured, smiling, and fitting helpmate, 
and counterpart to her husband. It was soon arranged 
that we should stay to dinner; and as an liour-and-a half 
would elapse before this could be ready, a lunch consisting of 
a ham, home-baked loaf, cheese, ale, brandy, liollands, Ac., 
were soon spread before us. “Hollands !” said my friend, 
taking up the bottle; “ What full proof ? ” “ Try it,” rejoined 
the farmer; “ real Schiedam.” , It is needless to remark that 
there is no custom-house upon the Island. 
Our repast finished, we went out to look at the homestead. 
A margin of concrete, formed of cinder ashes and oyster- 
shells, surrounded the cottage, itself not worth five pounds 
a year, and beyond this nothing but black mud, interminable 
mud; but the fertility of the mud is the wealth of the crops. 
There was neither garden nor fences, save what of the 
latter enclosed the farm-yard; this we entered, when fifty 
( fine bullocks (highlanders), up to their bellies in straw, 
i caught my attention. Evincing some surprise at their 
j appearance, “ I have five hundred more,” said the farmer, 
“on that island yonder;” pointing to Wallasea. It was 
evident that something was to be learned. Passing on to 
tbe stack yard, which contained several stacks,I went up to a 
large one and examined it. “Why this is not wheat;” said I. 
“ No,” replied the farmer, “it is canary-seed.” “Whatmay be 
j its value?” “About .£800; and that one," pointing to the 
I next, but smaller, “ £500.” 1 soon fouud that the produce 
of the farm consisted not only of wheat, but canary-seed, 
hemp, mustard, carraway, coriander, and other seeds, all 
valuable and important crops. In fine, our friend, who, by 
his garb, might have been taken for one of his workmen, 
cultivated 4000 acres; a tract less easy than profitable to 
walk over, since the best manure for the farm is the dust of 
the master’s feet. 
Leaving the stack-yard, we came out upon the plateau, ra¬ 
table-land, upon which the homestead is situated. A wide 
expanse was before us, bleak and bald ; a farm-house here 
and there, a few ploughs at work, several contiguous islands, 
and the distant ocean, with the white sails of vessels, and 
