T1IE COTTAGE GARDENER AND COUNTRY GENTLEMAN, May 31, ls5 V. 
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or even oranges. Although I was then, as now, a poultry fancier, 
and rearing numbers of chickens of many varieties, it never killed 
or ate a single one, nor molested the old hens, or eggs, at any 
time; still it would ferociously kill either a rat or squirrel, in¬ 
variably eating it when just killed, if hungry, but burying it until 
wanted, if recently fed. The sight of either squirrel or rat seemed 
to recall all its innate nature, and any attempt to prevent their 
capture on such occasions assuredly caused it to bite with incon¬ 
ceivable savagoness ; yet, in every other instance, you might open 
its mouth, or play with it, even to wantonness, without any re¬ 
taliation. At play, it never tired, although several parties in 
succession have tried to suppress its peculiar animation and 
activity—- they themselves were invariably the first subdued. 
Although it would sometimes lap sherry wine, milk was its most 
favoured beverage. It was not by any means capricious, and 
would fondle instantly on any one proffering civilities, unless in 
very cold weather, when it would not voluntarily leave its warm 
corner for persuasions of any kind, the cat excepted. Its end 
was unfortunate; for, living at that time close on the suburbs of 
a large population, a youth, when “ hedge-popping,” shot my 
favourite, and never did I love so amusing a “pet;” besides 
which, tho Marten Cat is one of the most elegant and beautiful 
creatures in existence, and the same animal that produces the so- 
called sable furs. I am assured no one who is fond of a “pet,” 
will ever grudge the trouble of rearing and taming a young Martin. 
Still, I believe, had they left the nest, and been then caught, to 
thoroughly tamo them would be impossible, so far as to allow 
them fas mine had), unlimited freedom. Under every circum¬ 
stance, kindness universally displayed, combined with perfect 
calmness, is essential to completely domesticate such products of 
the wild; but, as a rule, the more naturally daring, the more 
familiar from careful tutelage do they become when taken into 
domestication. Should the opportunity offer, it is hoped the 
“ petting ” of a nest of young Marten Cats may afford as much 
pleasure to tome one or more of your readers as, at that time, it 
did to— ClIA.NTICI.EEK. 
QUIET DEINK. 
(By the Authoress of “ My Flowers.’’) 
There surely cannot be a more sad and appalling sight than 
that of a man,—a reasonable, immortal being,—made in the 
image of God,— “ bought with a price,” and capable of enjoying 
eternal life in the presence of “ Him who sitteth upon the 
throne, and of the Lamb,”—and yet who goes down to the 
grave the victim of strong drink. It is so appalling, that it 
seems to overwhelm the mind; and yet, alas ! it is so often 
seen in this our highly favoured land, that we are not so startled 
and overwhelmed as Christians ought to be. 
It is a remarkable and dreadful fact, that intoxication is in 
no country so prevalent as in England. Where the true light 
shines,—where God’s laws, and precepts, and revelations, are 
the most fully known and circulated,—in this very land— 
Christian, Protestant, and professing,—is the crime of drunken¬ 
ness most peculiarly and painfully general. Among tho middle 
classes, where order and decency are, of course, more observed 
than in the humbler ranks, there is still a great amount of 
quiet, respectable fondness for drink, which, with stealthy but 
determined hand, slays its thousands as surely as when it riots 
and revels in the streets. 0, dear readers, what a blessing 
would descend upon us as a nation, as well as individuals, if 
we would but give up and put away from among us the abomi¬ 
nation of drink! 
John Walters was for some years a chemist, in the town 
of-. He was, as are all chemists, of superior education and 
cultivated intellect. He was, moreover, in politics and ways 
of thinking, one of the forward-movement men ; and had rather 
an offhand manner and mode of speech, which we often observe 
in men of that stamp. 
About three years ago Walters parted with his business to 
another chemist, and took up) the trade of a brewer and spirit 
merchant. Whether he considered the former business too 
“ slow,” and wished to attempt something new, and more likely 
to succeed rapidly, I do not know; but he was soon going about 
in a little pony-gig for orders, and seemed much better pleased 
with his present circumstances than the past. 
It is wonderful what a disposition there is in the world 
generally for public-houses, beer-shops, &c. Men who do not 
know what to be at next invariably take to this line of business. 
Gentlemen’s servants, when they have made a little money, and 
wish to leave service, are sure to settle down in a public-house, 
and too frequently repent it. But it is seldom that any one 
gives up a respectable and comfortable trade to take to another 
without some very strong and satisfactory reason. There is an 
old and a wise saying, “ We know what we are, but we do not 
know what we may be.” This applies, very pointedly, to all 
who arc making paths for their own feet. 
AValters did not keep a public-house, certainly—he was a 
wine and spirit merchant; but he had in his brewery that which 
is called a smoking-room, and it did quite as well as a tap. 
Very soon after his removal to the brewery, he suffered 
deeply in the loss of two children. He was a very affectionate 
father, and the stroke was a heavy one. He had others left, 
to fill up the void ; but that is a work of time, and not so easy 
a one as non-possessors may think. We too often receive chas¬ 
tisements without knowing it; and sometimes we bow resignedly 
beneath the stroke, without at all hearing the rod. Ah! dear 
readers, I know by my own sad experience some of tho depths 
! of the evil heart. Many are visible to others and not to myself; 
but I have sounded many, and this is one, Who hath appointed 
the rod is acknowledged, but the teaching of the stroke is very, 
very often overlooked. 
In what spirit poor Walters heard the rod I cannot say ; but 
he kept on the brewery. Some time after this a tradesman in 
the same town failed, and Walters very kindly interested him¬ 
self in his concerns. He called on several persons who owed 
accounts to the bankrupt, and who were known to him during 
his own chemical days, and they perceived that a change had 
| come over him. He was looking ill and dispirited, and the 
.jocund manner that used to displease some of his customers 
had deserted him. It was natural that his bereavement should 
have caused this, at least for a time; hut, after hearing and 
seeing nothing of him for a very long time, he again called, 
and the unhealthy look had not altered : in fact, ho was sink¬ 
ing into bad health. Not many months passed before we 
[ heard, quite suddenly, that AValters was in a dying state. His 
| friends were all concerned at the intelligence : he had a wife 
and children to leave—he was only middle-aged, and it took 
the more distant ones quite by surprise; hut it was a true re¬ 
port. His wife, wishing to get him into the country, and near 
clever advice, secured for a few months a pretty cottage in a 
neighbouring village. It was to be put in hasty order, the 
shrubs trimmed, and everything made neat. AValters was 
coming directly for change of air—the brewery was to be sold ; 
and, if his health rallied, aud he liked the place, the tenure was 
to he a permanent one. Before many days were over prepara¬ 
tions were all stopped. AYalters was worse ; he could not leave 
his bed, or contemplate a move. He never rallied, but sunk 
rapidly into an untimely grave. 
Suspicions had been afloat in the town that AA r alters had in¬ 
jured his health by drinking. He was not a drunkard, as that 
word is usually understood ; hut he had been drawn in by tast¬ 
ing, and contact with smoking-room frequenters — first one 
thing and then another, till his constitution suffered, and gave 
way. Boor fellow 1 he did not suppose, when he left his quiet, 
wholesome shop, that the axe was laid at the root of health, 
happiness, and life itself! Doubtless he never meant to in¬ 
dulge himself in the articles he dealt out to others; but he 
tampered with temptation—he looked “ upon the wine when it 
is red, when it giveth its colour in the cup,”— and it stung him 
“ like an adder.” At the early age of forty-five AValters may be 
said to have hurried himself into eternity. 
Drink is the grievous and deadly sin that slays its tens of 
thousands in Great Britain. Neither civilisation nor education 
has been able to stem the mighty tide. AVhat it would have 
been without them we can, in some measure, guess ; yet, with 
all the efforts and machinery employed, the love and power of 
strong drink are so terrible, that, wherever we turn our eyes, its 
presence or its effects glare hideously; but perhaps where it 
couches quietly aud respectably it is most painful to behold. 
Soft names are given to it, kind hands cover it up, and cautious 
anxiety conceals the frightful features: but the deadly work 
goes on quite as secretly—and often more so; because conscience 
is not so likely to be aroused as when Satan rages. 
Nothing but the presence and power of Ai. mighty God among 
us can check aud subdue this national sin. The religion of the 
masses is form and not reality—“flesh aud not spirit.” And 
this is why religion—what is called religion—appears so weak 
against the enemies of our salvation. Civilisation arid education, 
without real, Gospel, heart-renewing religion, are only the “ new 
ropes,” or the “ seven green withes,” that were but a “ thread 
