172 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
June 5. 
they not all harbingers of hope and lovo—sweet things to 
make bright the path of childhood ? 
So tri flin g are the treasures that minister to the happiness 
of children—to deprive them of such refining pleasures 
seems like taking away their natural aliment. 
It is sweet to think of such as we have ourselves enjoyed, 
for then we know how to gladden the little hearts that think 
with like emotions; and blest are those who have a little 
Calla to nestle among early memories, even though the pale 
flower has been transplanted to the garden that knows no 
winter—to the Paradise of God. 
Still, innocent and pure as are these sweetest of youthful 
joys, discord will sometimes creep into a child’s Eden—its 
nursery of fragrant things ; and the foe that walks “ green 
eyed ” through life’s path, even enters here. 
How different were the owners of the two little sister beds, 
and how differently were their offspring trained! Early and 
late, were the petted flowers of the loving little Calla 
watered and propped; while no weed, insect, or destroying 
worm, was suffered to canker or destroy her treasures; and 
beautifully they grew, and richly bloomed. 
Towering from the centre of her bed, rose her namesake, 
the Egyptian Plant; its thick, white blossoms crowning the 
glossy leaves at its base—while around its queen clustered a 
galaxy of lovely belles. 
Moss Pinks formed the centre of Molly’s flower bed. 
She planted her seeds; and so rich was the soil, that her 
; hastily-buried tufted roots grew and blossomed; but without 
order, or symmetry; and many a worm-eaten bud offended 
I her eye, as she stooped among the luxuriant growth of weeds 
| and flowers for a bud for her glossy curls or fresh young 
i bosom. 
She saw that Calla’s flowers were ever the dewiest and 
most unsullied, for she had risen early and labored in her 
vineyard. Yet she loved not beauty, or fragrance better than 
her envious sister. Where, then, lay the difference ? 
Calla was ready to “ seek ” and to “ find.” She looked 
not for sunshine nor dew upon her flowers, while they were 
choked by weeds, and the destroyer lay in their path. 
Molly trusted to their natural loveliness—guarding not 
the portal whence the canker-worm entered. Finally, envy 
took possession of the heart that had hitherto looked out 
with love and admiration upon Calla’s little flower-garden; 
and one bright morning, when the sweet trustful child came 
to her work, her treasures lay trampled and broken ! 
The destroyer was by—buried among her own disorderly 
growth of flowers. She could not see little Calla’s face, but 
she heard her stifled sob—her low cry of anguish. 
“ Oh Molly , ivho has been so cruel! ” came upon my ear. 
To this day, I hear that sweet plaintive voice, that soft tone 
of reproach. 
Remorse seized me; with tearful penitence I threw my 
arms about her neck and cried, “ I arn so sorry." 
Angel little one !—what wast thou ever but Christ-like and 
forgiving ! 
“ I can plant more," she whispered with streaming eyes; 
and seeds she did plant in her flower-bed, and in her heart. 
Both were watered by God’s refreshing dews, and though 
the destroying angel came, and the scythe of Death laid 
low the child and her flowers, for both there is a 
resurrection. 
0, reader! if you have a little sister who is brighter and 
purer than yourself, think of little Calla, and that like her, 
she may be taken from you; and if you would spare your 
heart memories that bring tears and remorse, never afflict 
that tender, alfectionato heart. 
Your cheeks may be brighter, and your eye beam with a 
more radiant light, but you may borrow lustre from her 
soul’s lamp that may be a meteor to your pathway to 
heaven. 
Be ever tender to the dove-eyed ono, for her sun may early 
! set, and her spirit pass from earth, while you arc left to 
j mourn that you had not more fully realised the value of the 
i treasure lent you for a season. 
Trifle not, then, with ought that gives another happiness 
—think of little Calla’s trampled flower-bed, and remember 
that the time may soon come when you cannot help the 
loved one to plant more. 
Nell Neyin. 
—(New York Independent.) 
CONSUMPTION OF BREAD. 
Estimating that there are 24,000,000 of bread consumers 
in Great Britain and Ireland (leaving out the 5,000,000 
potato eaters), and allowing each person one and a half 
loaves per week, it is 30,000,000 of loaves. Admitting that 
each quarter of wheat makes 136 loaves of bread, it requires 
168,050 quarters of wheat per week. To this add 10 per 
cent, for flour used in other articles, and it gives 295,521 
quarters as the weekly consumption of wheat, or 53,307,092 
quarters annually. London and its suburbs, with its 2,000,000 
population, consumes 3,000,000 loaves weekly; and, with 
flour, requires 24,020 quarters of wheat. • A quarter of 
wheat will give 501bs. of flour per bushel, of the quality 
which makes best second bread—400 lbs. altogether—and 
that quantity of flour will make 134 quartern loaves. A 
quarter of wheat ground into flour, and taking out only the 
rough bran—say about 51bs. to the bushel—will yield 581bs. 
per bushel of such flour, and that will make 141 loaves to 
the quarter. A quarter of wheat ground down into rough 
meal, without taking any bran, will give 521bs. or 021bs. 
meal per bushel, and that will make about 100 loaves of 
healthy good brown bread. 
SPRING IS COME! 
“ For lo, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers 
appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the 
voice of the turtle is heard in the land.”— Cant. ii. 11, 12. 
Spring on the hills ! 
The bright aurora of the year hath come! 
How leap her heralds, glad and frolicsome, 
Adown the rills ! 
Spring in the vales! 
Stern winter’s icy zone at length unbound, 
Fresh from the bosom of the opening ground 
Her breath exhales ! 
Spring in the groves ! 
Each twig is vocal with a warbled song; 
While the plumed songsters thro’ the aisles prolong 
Their early loves. 
Spring everywhere ! 
Buds, flowerets, verdure and a vernal sky— 
These bid our pulses bound, our fancy fly, 
Free as the air. 
But there are some 
For whom again on earth no spring shall dawn ; 
The vocal forest and the flowery lawn 
For ever dumb. 
In Life’s warm spring, 
From their brief pilgrimage they laid them down, 
And o’er the lustre of their young renown 
Folds sorrow’s wing. 
But sunny hours 
In memory are theirs, which mourners know; 
And beauteous Spring-time ! thou at least shall strew 
Their graves with flowers. 
E. W. B. Canning. 
TO CORRESPONDENTS. 
Errors.— I observe there are several errors from page 10" and on¬ 
wards. In that page, second column, “Mr. Walker” should be “Mr. 
Mackiepage 108, first column, “Mr. Barker” should be “Mr. 
Barber.” In the same column, and third paragraph, after the words, 
“magnified plena," introduce “a plant of variegata —a beautiful dense 
bush, one mass,” &c.—It. Fish. 
Dissecting Leaves (E. L. A. A.). —See page 505 of our last volume. 
We do not know what kind of greenhouse you need. If you require to 
consult a maker, please to refer to our advertising columns for an 
address. 
Preserving Apples (H. M —, Ferns). —Our correspondent, a clergy¬ 
man, wishes that Mr. Snow would communicate his mode of preserving 
Apples in a store-room.—If you send us one of the “small black 
insects ” which attack your Asparagus underground, we shall be able 
to tell its name. It is probably a Weevil. 
Slugs (P. H. G.). —If lime, and salt, and trapping them by luring 
them to brewer’s grains, will not subdue them, we can give you no aid. 
Some low-lying situations are overwhelmed by them; and if killed in 
one plot, others invade that plot from neighbouring inclosures. 
London : Printed by Hugh Barclay, Winchester High-street, in 
the Parish of Saint Mary Kalendar; and Published bj; William 
Somerville Orr, of Church Hill, Walthamstow, in the Coumy of 
Essex, at the Office, No. 2, Amen Corner, in the Parish of Christ 
Church, City of London.—June 5, 1855. 
