August IS. 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
385 
below worth toiling for ? Is there anything in itself worth 
the labour and sorrow, and wear and tear of mind and 
body, that we see so many people bestow on them ? Is 
there anything in itself that recompenses us when we have 
gained possession ? Do we not either lay it down, and turn 
off after something else; or else sit down and sigh over it? 
A great many years ago, a young man, a stranger, entered 
the village, and asked the first person he met if there was 
any chance of getting work at the mill ? He was a miller’s 
man by trade, out of employment; he was very hungry, and 
had no money to buy a meal. The answer was, that he was 
very likely to be successful at the mill; and the man kindly 
gave him two-pence, out of his little pittance, to buy him a 
crust of bread and cheese. The young man was fortunate 
enough to obtain work at the mill; he was a useful, active 
labourer, and soon got comfortably on. 
About the same time, a young woman, of mean appearance, 
i stopped “the widow indeed ”—then a middle-aged wife and 
| mother—and asked her if she could tell her where a cheap 
lodging might be had. Her husband was taken on to work 
at the mill, they were very poor, and she should be thankful 
to get one little room to live in, and support herself with 
needle-work. 
"When we first remember Roberts, he was the head miller 
! of the village—a stirring, bustling, rich, prosperous, grind- 
I ing, money-making man. His wife was all over hour, with 
a keen eye, a clear, sharp voice, and a wit, or rather a 
worldly spirit, sharper still. They kept a little shop, and it 
was curious, and very painful, too, to see how she weighed 
and measured. The single raisin, the crumb of lard, the 
shaving of cheese and bacon that turned the scale, was 
taken carefully away from the poor customer, and put back. 
There was no favour shown to the poor destitute—be had 
his right, to be sure, but he paid dearly for it; and if there 
was an error between them it was not on his side. 
The consequence of all this hard work, pinching, grinding, 
' and saving, was, that Eoberts and his wife had raised them- 
I selves up into worldly plenty. They had no children, and 
j nothing to do but take care of themselves. He never, by 
any chance, went to church, and, therefore, probably never 
i read God’s Word ; so that he was little likely to know what 
! manner of man lie was in the sight of a holy God. 
Mrs. Eoberts was, after a few years, attacked frequently 
with soreness in her legs. She used to limp and hobble 
about when she ought to have laid by; but money and gain 
was her idol, and she would not give in as long as she could 
drag herself from the parlour to the shop. When she was 
fairly compelled to sit still, she sat with the doors open, so 
that she could scream at the people as they stood at the 
counter; and I have often heard her shrill voice directing 
affairs of state, while she sat unwillingly retired. 
Eoberts himself, in time, became the victim of some in¬ 
ternal complaint, which was tedious, and very painful. He 
suffered greatly in body, and in mind, too, for he was a wor¬ 
shipper of mammon, and mammon speaks no word of peace 
i to a sick bed. The visits of his clergyman were frequent 
1 and anxious, but no fruit was to be seen. Eoberts was 
restless and unquiet; he was carried about from one place 
to another, but nothing, of course, satisfied him. He could 
not stay in his own house, but when he was gone he wanted 
directly to be brought back again. Poor fellow! How 
terrible it is to be “ seeking rest, and finding none.” His 
bread and flour had been his gods; and now, like Eaal, 
when he called upon them in time of need they did not hear. 
The last time he desired a change he was lifted into the 
cart, propped with pillows, and wrapped up in a blanket. 
They got him to a tofrn about twenty miles off, but there 
the trumpet call was heard! Eoberts was called to a 
drearier journey still, from which he would never return. 
Another small shop-keeper, in the same village, died some¬ 
where about the same period; but how different his end ! 
It was awfully sudden; yet evidently blessed. He was a 
man of real and deep piety; he had known and served God 
in the sight of men for years, and his character was proved 
and known. He had not prospered much in worldly cir- 
1 cumstances, but he had a large family, and since their 
fatlior’s death they have gone steadily and quietly on, and 
are all doing tolerably well. Eeynolds had been sitting 
with a few friends one evening; they had all joined in 
prayer together, as they were accustomed to do; and on 
again taking their seats they were speaking on spiritual 
subjects. Eeynolds turned to his nearest neighbour to 
make a remark, and as he placed his hand on las friend’s 
knee, to enforce what lie was about to say, the hand of death 
was laid upon his lips. He, too, heard the trumpet call, 
and his spirit sprang to obey it. Without one instant’s pre¬ 
paration, he passed from prayer to everlasting praise ! 
Perhaps, no two deaths could be more striking in their 
different ways than those of Eoberts and Eeynolds. Sudden 
death is always awful; but to a good man—that is to say, to 
one who is clothed in a righteousness not his own —it comes 
without any terror. Eeynolds’ treasure was in heaven; his 
bags had been moth-eaten on earth; but his treasure was 
sate. Poor Eoberts had nothing but earthly bags to look 
to. They were all full of flour, but there was no treasure in 
them. He did not even find worldly comfort in them; 
there was no “ money in the mouth of the sack ” to reward 
him, even on this side the grave, for all his labour and toil. 
He could rest no-where—he could enjoy nothing—he could 
only go wearily about, “ seeking rest, and finding none.” 
Header: we are directed to be “ not slothful in business ; ” 
but there are two directions that come with it—“ be fervent 
in spirit, serving the Lord.” He is a Master who pays with i 
usury—He doubles, and trebles, and quadruples that which 
He promised to pay; but mammon cheats us of every penny. 
Work as we will for him, he scoffs and sends us empty r 
away. All the possessions, all the good things of this 
world, are nothing in themselves. Without God’s blessing 
wo cannot enjoy them. What is food to a loathing stomach? 
What is mirth to a broken heart? What is silver and gold 
to a dying sinner ? It cannot buy an hour in which to 
repent; it cannot buy the peace of God, which can alone 
smooth the pillow. “ It is in vain for you to rise up early, 
to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows ; for so he givetli 
his beloved sleep." To poor Eoberts it was indeed “ bread 
of sorrows; ” so will it be to every one who is a slave to 
mammon. He had grasped and clutcdied everything; he 
had plenty of silver and gold; but all they did for him was 
to take him about in a cart, propped with pillows, “ seeking 
rest, and finding none.” 
Header: be “not slothful in business; fervent in spirit, 
serving the Lord ; rejoicing in hope ; patient in tribulation ; 
continuing instant in prayer.” 
DEVON AND CORNWALL POULTRY 
EXHIBITION. 
The West of England cannot now be reproached as 
being backward in the poultry cause, for, notwithstanding 
the large gathering that took place, under the auspices of 
the Bath and West of England Agricultural Society, at 
Pennycomequick, near Plymouth, in June last, another 
meeting was held at the same town, on the 3rd and 4th 
inst. 
The committee were most fortunate in securing an ad¬ 
mirable site for their Exhibition, which included a depart¬ 
ment for horticultural produce, to which Messrs. Lucombe 
and Pince, and Veitch, of Exeter, contributed largely, and 
among their collections, we need hardly add, were many of 
the most recent introductions, admirably grown, and most 
effectively arranged. 
A glance at the Dor/ciny pens at once proclaimed the 
absence of Capt. Hornby’s name from the list of exhibitors 
in that class. The old birds were but indifferent, but 
among the chickens there appeared a singularly good pen 
of “ White Dorkings,” belonging to Miss Newman, of Main- 
head, with which it would, indeed, be difficult to find fault. 
Spanish do not appear on the prize list, either in the 
classes for old birds or chickens. 
In Shanyhaes, the entries were numerous, and several 
very good pens of both old and young birds were present, 
in their respective classes. Mr. Clianning, of Heavitree, 
near Exeter, exhibited birds that would have stood high 
among any competitors, both with respect to form and 
colour. Their condition, also, considering the season of the 
year, was remarkably good. The hens in pen 17, belonging 
to Mr. Eastlake, of Mannamcad, near Plymouth, which took 
