8 THE COTTAGE 
Routine Work.— The present is a good season of the j 
year to renew, replant, or make new plantations ot 
herbs. The varieties of mint delight in rich, open, tad 
rather light, moist soil, and should be planted partially 
in the shade; when the shoots have obtained the length 
of two or three inches they should be pulled up with a 
portion of root, and be dibbled at the distance each way 
from one another of about six inches. Tarragon re¬ 
quires a similar treatment. Chives and sorrel should 
be parted and replanted. Chamomile and pennyroyal 
should be planted in single shoots one foot apart. Bur¬ 
net, thyme, winter savory, sweet basil, and marjoram 
should be sown. The last season’s herb-bed should be 
top-dressed, and, where intended to remain, well forked; 
and sage should be pegged down and layered. 
James Barnes. 
MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION. 
OUR VILLAGE WALKS. 
(No. 24.) 
1 always look with interest at the garden of a little cottage 
which stands at the entrance of the village near which I live. 
It belongs to a steady, industrious sawyer, who supports a 
widowed mother and sister, and who takes great pains with 
his allotment and this little garden. There are in it a nice 
row of gooseberry bushes, a little patch of raspberry plants, 
a bed for cabbages, onions, mustard and cress, &c.; in the 
proper season, a flower border, two or three plum-trees, a 
large plant or two of lavender, and a shed for the wheelbar¬ 
row ; and yet it is so small, that the owner seems too large 
for his garden—as if one step would carry him over the 
paling into the road. Not a bit of the soil is neglected; all 
is doing its duty; and the produce invariably looks healthy 
i and well. A fuchsia decorates a part of the cottage wall, and 
in the flowering season its bright crimson blossoms hang 
I abundantly from the graceful sprays. A little petted cottage 
garden is a beautiful sight at eveiy season; and the one of 
which I am now writing is never untidy, even in the winter. 
I There is neatness in its desolation; and it seems to wake up 
from its needful rest sooner than any other garden in the 
neighbourhood. There is nothing at all attractive in its 
situation; the buildings and sheds near it are neither pic- 
j turesque nor neat enough to be pleasing; yet this little garden 
; is a pleasant object for the eye to rest upon as w r e pass by; 
i and if it were ever to be built upon, or pass into careless 
j hands, I should miss it exceedingly. 
Some little cottages possess a strip of garden, which, 
although not by any means sufficient for the use of the 
1 family, might yet, by cultivation, produce much more than 
they do now. I do not think that gooseberries or raspberries 
are at all desirable for the poor man, where his garden is a 
I small one. Lmless they are grown in sufficient quantities to 
sell, they occupy the ground unprofitably, and should give 
] place to vegetables. But I sometimes see nice little bits of 
I ground yielding so little, that it may almost be called lying 
j waste; and ground is so valuable in all cases, that not an 
I inch should be suffered to lie idle, or carry less produce than 
j it might be made to do. Cabbages, onions, and leeks, are so 
useful and wholesome, that they should be put in wherever 
they will grow. A good crop of the former is a help to the 
family in the summer, and a store of onions is a treasrme 
for winter use. A basin of onion porridge is a warm, com¬ 
fortable dinner or supper, to moisten and flavour the crust of 
bread; and in case of colds and coughs, taken at bedtime, it 
is an excellent remedy, healing and good for the chest. 
Leeks are extremely wholesome too, and afford a nourishing 
meal when well boiled; so much so, that they arc highly es¬ 
teemed and extensively grown in Wales, and might be a 
valuable addition to the poor man’s garden in England, if 
they were better understood. I have seen tender young 
leeks served on a toast like sea-kale, and much liked by those 
to whom the flavour was agreeable ; but in general they seem 
little considered or used. A little bed of herbs would be 
very useful too. A plant or tw r o of white-mint, rue, liore- 
liound, sage, common mint, chamomile, rosemary, thyme, Ac., 
GARDENER. [April 4. 
would often turn to good account in case of sickness, and 
help a less thrifty neighbour. Indeed, chamomile should 
fill a little space itself, for it is so fine a medicine, and so 
excellent as an outward application, that it should occupy as 
much of the ground as can conveniently be spared. A herb 
garden would be a treasure in a village. How many little 
ailments there are for which the healing virtue of these 
simple plants is beneficial; and how often we pass from cot ¬ 
tage to cottage in an unsuccessful search for them. _ The 
very smell of chamomile flowers seems to assuage pain, so 
well known are ils soothing qualities to us all; and a large 
bag of them, dried for use, would ease many an aching face 
or joint, and save many a penny to the poor. Some plants of 
the valuable tutsan (of which 1 have already spoken) should 
be in every garden, to apply to cuts and wounds, if slight, 
and to severe ones also if medical aid is distant. It is a rich, 
ornamental-looking plant; as the loliage, during some part 
of the year, is of a brownish green, and in the autumn it 
becomes blood-red. The healing virtue of this plant is re¬ 
markable. 
The cottager has not much in his power to do for Ins fel¬ 
low men, when money or time are required. 01 the fiist, 
he has none; of the last, his daily labour takes up the 
largest part; but a kindly heart will always try to do some¬ 
thing, particularly when it serves, in simplicity, a Master who 
blesses the “ cup of cold water ” only “ given in the name of a 
disciple.” A herb-bed for the use of the sick is a work of 
love, not to be despised because it may seeni trifling. A hand¬ 
ful of chamomile flowers, or a cup of mint tea, may soothe 
the pains or cool the parched lips of a suffering fellow- crea¬ 
ture ; and is this, with a word of Christian sympathy to en¬ 
rich the gift, a trifle ? . 
There is some spare time for labourers, in the long days 
when work is over, that might be profitably spent in culti¬ 
vating vegetables; and this makes it sad to see idle men and 
boys lounging in a village street, having nothing to occupy 
their evening horu-s. The allotments, indeed, where they 
exist at all, employ many who frequently toil on them till it 
is quite dark; and I have often heard the pleasant sound oi 
the spade even by moonlight. But still, in a populous 'vil¬ 
lage there are a great number who really have no ground to 
till, except, perhaps, an atom of damp earth behind their 
dwellings. It would be a work of rational, doubly-beneficial 
charity—a means of doing unspeakable good—to let, or rent 
for the purpose of letting, to the poor pieces of land near 
every village; so that as many as possible, if not all the cot¬ 
tagers, should have a portion of ground to cultivate. Indus¬ 
trious characters would thus be materially assisted in pro- 
riding for their families, and men of lazy habits might be 
encouraged to amend. I myself know an allotment tenant, 
who has held his quarter of an acre for upwards of twenty 
years. During the last seventeen, his wife has been a cripple 
confined to her bed, and unable to move without his assist¬ 
ance. Before and after his working hours, he lias been en¬ 
gaged in placing her aching frame in easier positions ; at liis 
dinner hour he always came home to move her also; liis 
nights were as weary as the days, from her painful restless¬ 
ness ; and yet I /mow that he has been on his land at three 
and four o’clock on summer mornings, to cultivate and attend 
to it. Should not all such men be encouraged ? If boys 
were induced to rent and manage small gardens, it might be 
the means of keeping them from idle and wicked practices ; 
give them early habits of industry, and an interest in honest 
employment too. 
Gentlemen residing in a parish have much power to do 
good by promoting and encouraging garden cultivation ; and 
the farmers, if they would but aid a good cause, might do a 
great deal, and benefit themselves in their turn. The rates— 
that perpetual source of vexation in almost every parish— 
might be diminished, or kept within due bounds by this sys¬ 
tem. And although this ought to be the last consideration 
when endeavouring to do good, yet wc are compelled to admit 
that too often it is the first. Farmers are greedy of their 
land; but small portions let off would do such a world of 
good to so many, that they could scarcely regret them, and 
would feel happy in knowing they were at least trying to help 
the poor and needy. In “ making money ” we are very’ apt 
(to use a homely phrase) to “ reckon without our host.” We 
think it is our own, to do with as we please ; forgetting that 
there is One who has a first claim upon everything wc pos- 
