THE COTTAGE GARDENER. 
I 
this time of the year, but are required for many uses. 
If a trench is cast out from two to three feet wide, and 
any kind of garden refuse, rakings, sweepings, and small 
primings, are first placed in at the bottom, it is a con¬ 
siderable assistance to the prepared fermenting mate¬ 
rials. If the fermenting materials consist principally of 
stable-dung, and a little mushroom spawn is placed on 
it previously to the soil being placed over it, a crop ol 
mushrooms, provided the season is not too wet, will be 
produced from August to October. 
Sea Kai.e. —The old beds that are intended to be cut 
from another year must have all the coverings cleared 
away, such as any remains of fermenting materials; and 
the covering-pots, of whatever kind they may bo, should 
be all put away carefully, in a dry place if possible, if 
j not Wanted for any other purpose. Let all the crowns 
of the plants be examined, and if any should require 
cutting-in closer to the surface of the earth, or any that 
are already shooting forth should require to he thinned 
out, let this be done immediately. A few fine sifted 
coal ashes placed over the fresh cuts, either at the time i 
of cutting the kale or in any other case, prevents the | 
slugs working or boring down into the crowns, which 
they are very apt to do wherever a fresh cut is left to j 
take its chance. The above remarks having been all 
attended to, take the digging fork and fork up the spaces ! 
[May 2. 
between the crowns, but taking the greatest care not 
to injure any of the roots. The fork may be used 
as expertly as the operator likes, but the following rule i 
should be observed—narrow spits, broken up well, and 
as deep as it can bo done without any injury to the , 
roots of the plants. I 
The forward hand-glass crops of cauliflower should 
be attended to, with regard to forking between and 
making basins around them, according to the directions 
given in a previous number. 
Broad beans may still be planted in cool situations; 
and the tall Kniflit's Marrow peas be sown in succes¬ 
sion as the most profitable and best flavoured kind. 
Sow also turnips of any of the little early sorts, as well 
as small salading in succession. 
For turnip radishes, red and white rooted, choose cool 
situations, and sow little and often. 
Cape brocoli should now be sown in full crop. Let the 
spot where the seeds are to be sown be rich and good, 
and kept sufficiently moist, in order to encourage a quick- 
growth. 
Sage cuttings may now be planted out, if required, to 
any desired extent; and Spear mint may be planted out 
in open beds. Either cuttings or rooted plants will 
grow readily if planted out and well watered. 
James Barnes & W. 
MISCELLANEOUS INFORMATION. 
OUR VILLAGE WALKS. 
(No. 26 .) 
There is great loveliness in wild uncultivated ground; rose-trees, form 
it is almost always picturesque, and in defiance of a 
feeling of regret at its lying comparatively idle, I always 
admire it excessively. There is an ease and a natural 
grace in land that has retained somewhat of its original 
character; trees that have sprung up in it are often poic- 
turesque too, and the beautiful carpetting of heath that 
frequently covers the soil, looks well at every season, 
but particularly when its rich flowers literally paint the 
earth, and send up their amethyst-coloured dust when 
disturbed by the passer by. 1 have often heard my 
father describe this effect on the moors during his grous¬ 
ing excursions. Large tracts of land were entirely 
clothed with this brightly flowering plant, and clouds of 
this dust would arise like coloured smoke when the dogs 
were engaged in beating for the game. On those open 
districts, he said, the effect was singularly striking, and 
very beautiful. 
The wild flowers and plants that love heathy situa¬ 
tions are all full of beauty. The young self-sown fir- 
trees, that spring up in different places, give additional 
beauty to the scene; and there is always a dryness and 
pleasantness in the paths that cross this sort of ground 
that makes walking still more delightful. There are the 
remains of a large, wild, and beautiful common in my 
neighbourhood, which has been from time to time en¬ 
closed, cultivated, or planted; but in some places, large 
portions are still loft untouched for the use of the poor ; 
and beautiful thev are. A ramble through these snatches 
a striking 
the uncultivated 
How much may 
Is there not within each of us 
of wild scenery in a warm, sunny, spring morning, is 
not easily described; but I shall content myself with 
intreating all those of my readers who reside near such 
healthy spots to turn their attention to them, and not 
pass them lightly by. 
A cottage garden formed out of waste land like this 
has peculiar charms. Its shape aud character have 
still a kind of wildness; and the blooming fruit-trees, 
the balmy row of beans, the gay border, and clustering 
contrast to 
common to which it once belonged 
be done by cultivation! 
a wilderness? and how much may that barren land, 
by spiritual culture, be made to bear ! Let us think ol 
this, as we view with so much pleasure a smiling little 
homestead springing up front the bosom of a heathy 
moor! 
The cottage gardener whose funeral I spoke ol in my 
last paper, was once the possessor ol a grant of land it 
this term may be applied to so small a matter. It was 
a piece of waste land on the side of a rising ground, 
overlooking a valley and a village, yet with a northern 
aspect, and rather a stony soil. The man was then 
young and active, and he set to work at once. Lie 
built, with his own hands, a small two-roomed cottage, 
laid out his garden, planted his trees, and worked tor 
his daily bread. When I first knew him, many years 
ago, he was an athletic carter, steady, kind to his horses, 
and diligent in his work. His bit of land had grown 
into a snug sheltered garden, his trees were in bearing, 
his laurels looked rich and bowery, and his little mud 
cottage in which he had brought up lour children 
who are all now in a far superior position to that which 
their parents occupied—was nestled among shrubs and 
rose-trees. As age advanced, ho gave up his more active 
employments, aud took altogether to gardening; tending 
his own piece of ground at his spare hours, and having 
a good knowledge of his business, he was in constant 
request. Difficulties, however, overtook him, and he 
was at length obliged to give up his own pretty home 
and retire to the village, where lie passed the remainder 
of his life; still loving and cultivating a little spot of 
ground as well as his prosperous allotment. There 
were always pinks, hepaticas, fuchsias, and convolvu¬ 
luses before his door, with a neat bed of cabbages, 
parsley, thyme, &c.; and many sorts of vegetables were 
raised behind his house : all good of their kind. It was 
