68 
THE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, Aphid 2G, 1859. 
with drought; and the inner membrane becomes so dry, the 
chickens cannot make their way out. There is-a very natural ex¬ 
planation of it. If a hen steal her nest, she leaves at break of day, 
while the grass is wet with dew, and seeks her food. When she 
returns to it, her breast is dripping with water, and in this state 
she sits on her eggs. She hatches all, or nearly all. 
If by accident a hen break an egg in her nest, remove it and 
cleanse the others, or they will adhere to the feathers of the 
hen. Recollect, the more comfortable the hen is, the better she 
will sit; and that has to do with the strength of the produce. 
It is hardly necessary to say the chicken in the egg is suscep¬ 
tible of cold, as it dies from desertion or exposure. If, then, a 
hen, from vermin or other cause, sits hollow, the chickens suffer 
from lack of warmth ; and when the time comes for hatching 
1 hey die in the shell, or only partly extricate themselves; and 
when hatched are so weak, they arc hardly worth keeping. 
When a hen has hatched four or live out of thirteen eggs, 
take them away ; and, having filled a deep, narrow basket with 
soft hay, put the newlv-hatched chickens in some flannel, and 
place them near a fire, in-doors, according to temperature. 
Remove the empty shells. When all are hatched, clean the nest, 
and place all the chickens under her. The hen will attend to 
them for some hours afterwards. We should have said, at the 
beginning, that a hen should sit in a quiet place, where she will 
not be disturbed by others that are not in the same predicament. 
COMING EVENTS. 
Tni! note of preparation is sounding ; and, while the east wind 
is whistling—or, as a Yorkshire friend poetically calls it, “ping¬ 
ing”—in our ears, we hear of ice half-an-inch thick; we also have 
indications that the Summer Shows are on the alert. Apropos 
de pingiug, we recollect the same term is often used by the 
graphic correspondents from the seats of war when they describe 
the sounds of the minie ritle balls. The warlike Swedish king 
declared, when he first heard the cannon-balls, they should ever 
after be his music. We confess that, although our acquaintance 
is confined to the east wind, our liking for it is so small, that, 
with the conviction we should not love the musical missiles, 
we love the east wind quite as little. 
Sheridan’s old friend always laid in bed so long as the wind 
was in this quarter. We do not altogether, agree with him; 
hut we confess, that during its prevalence, we lie in bed later 
than at any other time. We also make the inquiry, when a tap 
at the door announces seven o’clock and the hot water, “ Where 
ii the wind ?” “ East, and veiy cold.” “Very well. Put down 
the water.” “Ah!” says duty, “ you ought to get up. What 
a bad example you set your children and servants! See what 
you read of the ancients, they were all early risers.” “ Non¬ 
sense ! ” say the pillows and bed-coverings, “ they all lived in the 
east and warm climates.” “ But,” says duty, “it will be just as 
cold in an hour’s time.” Like Mrs. Vicar of Wakefield, you 
make up in violence what you want in argument ; and, roll¬ 
ing yourself up in the clothes, you loudly declare you don’t 
care, and will have ten minutes more. “Ah ! ” says duty, “ you 
hypocrite, you know you mean an hour.” Ping! goes the cast 
wind round the corner of the house; you simulate a shudder, 
and close your eyes. 
If there is a happy moment in the twenty-four hours, it is the 
snatched sleep when you ought to be shaving. Well, we dosed off, 
and were speedily in a balmy climate where the air was redolent 
with perfume from the orange groves in which we were walking. 
We did not lose our hobby, and were admiring the birds, when 
another tap at the door dispelled our happiness. “ Well, what 
is it now ? ” said we in a querulous tone. “ The letter-bag, sir.” 
“ Put it down,” shouted we in a tone of thunder. “ Ilot water 
getting cold, sir.” “ Very well.” “ Ilalf-past seven, sir.” 
“ I know it,” we growled, and jumped out of bed. We always 
look out of the window directly we get up. The dust was curl¬ 
ing down the road ; the gardener was at work with his coat on ; 
the cows were in a sheltered corner with their tails to the wind; 
the lilacs, that were green three weeks ago, looked as if they were 
growing wetted tea-leaves; and there was not a chicken in sight. 
We huddled on some clothes, and opened the letter-bag. Letter 
from an advertising tailor, announcing “ the spring fashions.” 
One from a man “asking an order for an American ice-safe, in 
which meat will keep in the hottest weather.” The next remind¬ 
ing us that “ the return of spring invites to out-door pursuits ;” 
and, after quoting Cranmer on the “ godly practice of archery,” 
offering bows, quivers, arrows, targets, gloves, &c., at the lowest 
possible prices. Next, “that it is impossible not to admire the 
perfect provisions of Nature; that the inclement season being 
past, she puts on the gay garb of spring; that she decks herself 
with llowers ; that the birds (Ah ! though we, this is in our 
line) no longer flock together, but pair, and warble in their de¬ 
light. The streams are again peopled with the finny tribes, 
leaving their deep, dark winter recesses; that man rejoices with 
the inferior works of creation, and, dolling the heavy garb of 
winter, identifies himself with the gladness of Nature. That, 
j anxious in all things to meet t he requirements of their customers, 
Messrs. Moses and Sons-” “ Drat the post,” said we, and 
threw away the bag, while wc applied ourselves to brush and 
razor. 
Wo often detect ourselves talking to our readers on paper. 
Well, then, did you ever rise in n thorough ill-temper? Many of 
! the old sayings are quaint and truthful.—Did you ever get out 
J of bed the wrong way ? Was there ever a moment, or a day, 
when there wanted only the match applied to the train, and the 
lack of a shirt button has caused the explosion—when everything 
had a jaundiced look, as though seen through yellow spectacles ? 
We came down in just such a humour; but a cheerful fire and a 
new-laid egg having somewhat restored us, we called for the bag, 
and thought we would finish our post. Essex Agricultural 
Society, open to all England, at Colchester, in June; Bath and 
West of England, at Barnstaple, in June; Sheffield, July 1st. 
Wc will show at all of them. It is decidedly our opinion, Shows 
should be encouraged ; and we always find it more than a holiday 
—it is a treat when we go to an agricultural meeting. We then 
I began to muse on the birds we would send ; then on the many 
pleasant days we had passed through the poultry pursuit; on the 
friendships it had formed ; on the triumphs we had achieved. 
We gloried in the past, and anticipated the future ; and with our 
feet on the fender, wore in a fair way to revisit the orange-groves 
whence we had been so ruthlessly expelled in our bed-room, 
when the crow of a privileged cock, who had the entree to our 
breakfast-room window, recalled us to matter-of-fact things and 
life. Throwing the crumbs to our favourite, we adjourned to tho 
yard, and will relate our results hereafter. 
SMALL DRONES. 
I do not think it necessary to remark upon Mr. Wight on’s 
paper at page 11 of your present volume. As he does not con¬ 
descend to give us ignorant people the benefit of his alleged dis¬ 
coveries in apiarian science, for fear we should fail to understand 
his scientific language, wo must, perforce, hold our peace. At the 
same time let him not construe our silence into acquiescence in 
his statements. Such “light of nature ” as we happen to possess, 
is sufficient to enable us to guard ourselves from falling into his 
errors—for errors I honestly believe them to be. My object in 
i now writing is to remark upon certain observations scattered over 
your eighteenth volume, touching small drone bees. 1 was sur¬ 
prised to find them spoken of as uncommon; whereas, 1 have 
rarely fuiled to sec them in any spring in many, if not all, of my 
hives. They were generally the first drones to appear. If your 
apiarian friends will only watch their hives narrowly this spring, 
at times when drones fly abroad, I think they will not find them 
very rare. 1 1 am here quite of opinion with Mr. Wight on—that 
they are bred in worker cells, if not in those cells which will be 
seen in most hives on the border-land between the drone and 
worker cells ; where may often bo seen a kind of transition cell 
I neither one nor the other.—B. & W. 
OUR LETTER EOX. 
Diskasku Spanish Fowls. —“I have a fine Spanish cock, which is some¬ 
what affected with a strange-looking appearance in the throat close to the 
swallow. It looks like small yellow maggots, about the sixteenth of an 
inch in length. I cut some away on Saturday or yesterday; and they 
i appear still to affect his usually bright red comb with a scaly" appearance, 
lie feeds well; hut it appears very slightly to affect his crow. I have a 
hen also, which is rather queer. She has something growing on the jaw, 
which seems to eat into her. Will you favour me with some advice!” 
—W. G. 
[We do not suppose they are maggots. If they are, remove them. 
■ It is probably caused by heat of the stomach. Purge freely with a table- 
spoonful of castor oil every third day till the bird is relieved. Wc ate 
strengthened in our opinion by the appearance on the comb. It is the 
precursor of white comb, and Spanish are subject to it. The cure is purging, 
and to rub the parts affected with compound sulphur ointment. You ntu.-t 
adopt the same treatment with the hen ; and if the growth on the jaw have 
the appearance of a fungus, remove it with a knife. We consider both to 
! arise from the same cause—probably induced by over-feetliug ; and purging 
will, we have no doubt, effect a cure.) 
