One of the most important things to be observed is the getting of them up from their native habitat. I have collected myself the greatest part of what I grow, and have always been very particular to take with me a good spade, and have taken them up with a good clod of soil, so as not in any way to touch the root; for I have ever found if the roots are meddled with, they seldom continue to thrive. The soil I use is the strongest best loam I can get. In planting, I am very particular to make the soil about them as firm as possible by pressing it well down, and making it as solid as possible. This border I never allow a fork, trowel, or spade, to come near, nor do I ever touch it afterwards in any way to lighten the soil; if the soil is loosened, the plants will immediately be affected, and will soon lose their healthy appearance; they have the utmost dislike to be meddled with after being once planted in a garden. The Epipactis latifolia I grow rather differently, as I have always found it in loose gravelly, or stony, soil. I, therefore, under this put a drainage of broken crocks, or stone, and mix with the soil a small quantity of brown bog soil, in lumps about one and a half inch in diameter, and some broken stone. This plan answers well, and I have some plants which I have had for many years still doing well with me.

When friends have sent me plants I have always given them directions how to take them up, and requested they would send me word the situation in which they were growing; and from the soil sent with them I always knew how to plant them. Whenever they have not strictly followed these directions, the plants have not done well, and have frequently died. There is one most beautiful variety which grows in the wettest part of Ashton moss, which has hitherto mastered me; it is a delicate white one with a yellow eye, and most deliciously scented; but I have now thought of a plan which I am sure will answer. I have mostly found it growing with its roots in the sphagnum moss, with part of the fibres actually in the water. This I will plant for the future in a broad mouthed pot, in a compost of bog and sphagnum, in a similar way to what I grow my exotic plants, and let it stand in a saucer of water, and I have no doubt of its doing well. In hot dry weather I always water them.

With respect to shading them, the only sorts which at all require it are the following: these I have ever found growing the finest and flowering the best when shaded by trees:

hircina(Satyrium hircinum)

Gymnadenia conopsea

Neottia nidusavis
Listerea ovata
Gymnadenia viride
Epipactis Latifolia
Malaxis paludosa

Herminium monorchis
Cypripedium calceolus

spectabile

alba

pubescens acaule

I have also a few from Scotland, the names to which I do not know at present.

G. T. DALE, Longsight, near Manchester.

MY FARM-YARD.

WHAT a pleasing sight does this title present to our imagination: the sleek well-fed cattle; the sow, with her litter around her, half-buried in the clean straw; the chickens scratching about, trying to find the grain which has escaped the merciless strokes of the flail; the ducks diving in the clear stream which runs at the bottom of the yard; the turkeys strutting about, looking so consequential, as if they knew they were enjoying more than neighbour's fare; the guinea-fowls with their monotonous cries; and, to complete the picture, the noble peacock, perched on the bough of the "old oak-tree," spreading his tail of many colours, and "looking down with scornful glances on the ignominious group beneath." Is not this a pleasant, peaceful picture, worthy a place in every English person's imagination? I am sure you agree with me that it is; and, although we cannot all be the owners of such a farm-yard, yet we may, one and all, have some of its inmates, and my object will be to give you a few hints and directions respecting them. I will begin with the one I consider of most importance to my readers.

THE PIG.-I hope by this time my cottage friends have purchased their's, and, as this is the time most people are putting their pigs up to fatten, I think I cannot do better than tell you what I consider, or rather, I should say, what I have found (for I have tried most plans,) the best method of feeding them; therefore, I will at once conclude that you have a couple of pigs about six months old (they always fatten better in pairs), separated from your other pigs. Save for them the best of your wash, and, as you have now dug up all your potatoes, you have, of course, picked out the small ones for your pig. Do not give these to them raw, but boil them in a copper with slices of mangold-wurtzel. When the potatoes are soft mash them up, sufficiently to break their skins, which will prevent the pigs wasting them. Let this be their food for the first fortnight. You know the proverb, Necessity is the mother of invention," therefore, if you do not own a copper you will soon find something to answer the purpose, but, by all means, boil your potatoes. Also, if you have grown Swedes or carrots in your allotment gardens, you will, of course, give those to your pigs instead of the wurtzel. At the end of the fortnight you will see your pigs looking round and well. Then, instead of giving them barley-meal, try the system I follow, which is, finishing them on whole oats: these you can buy, at the present time, for 28 9d a bushel. One bushel a week you will find sufficient (in addition to the potatoes, &c.) for the

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sized pigs I have supposed you to have. If your pigs are a quick-feeding sort (and no others ought you to buy), you will find that in five weeks from the time you first began to feed them well they will be ready for the butcher. Give them the oats when their troughs are empty, so that they may swallow it dry. A little salt mixed with the potatoes sharpens their appetites. I have just now killed a pig fatted on this plan (with the addition of a little refuse milk from my dairy), and the pork is quite equal to any that has been fatted on barley meal, and at very much less expense. Some future day I will give you some receipts for salting the pork, for, however well your pig may have been fatted, the bacon will not be worth eating unless it has been properly cured.

POULTRY.-According to my promise I now give you a few more hints as to the management of your poultry. I hope some few of my readers followed the advice I gave them last month; if so, you have by this time a sufficient number of eggs to "sit your hen." I suppose your "first hen" will be a pullet, consequently she will not cover more than nine eggs. Now, if you have had any luck, you have at least 18 eggs. I can fancy I hear you say, "What nice breakfasts the other nine will make." Not so fast, my young friends; remember-" Who dainties love, will beggars prove." Try hard to sell your eggs. If there is a gentleman's house in your parish take them there, and I dare say the lady will give you 6d or 8d for them, if you tell her you are trying the poultry plan from THE COTTAGE GARDENER. When once you have pocketed the money, put it carefully by, and next month I will tell you what to do with it. Now, to return to the nine eggs, put them into an old hamper or behind a bundle of wood that will not be moved, and place your hen on them. Look carefully about to see if there are any rat holes; if you find one, collect some broken glass and stop it up with that. I have had whole nests of eggs run off with by these mischievous creatures. There is also another enemy, a two-legged one, you must guard against—I mean a young child. I do not know if I have not had more losses from a little child's fondness for watching and taking care (as she called it) of the hen, than I have from the four-legged enemy. Try and keep the hen quite undisturbed; she will come off her nest when she requires food, but have it ready for her, so that she may not be long off the nest. Be careful always to have clean water for the poultry, and save all the ashes you can; put them in a corner under the hedge; you will soon see how pleased they are with them. Always have the place they roost in cleaned out once a week. Nothing thrives without cleanliness, and I dare say you remember the old saying, that "Godliness and cleanliness are very nearly related to each other;" and, now, wishing you good luck, I will lay down my pen till next month.

C. M. A.

THE POULTRY-KEEPER'S CALENDAR.
NOVEMPER.

By Martin Doyle, Author of "Hints to Small
Farmers," &c.

THE cottager who has a garden and yard ought to keep poultry; the one will supply much food for them, and the other, besides affording the necessary space and accommodation, will obviate occasions of dispute which often occur between neighbours when their cocks and hens break bounds and pay unwelcome visits.

Fowns. We begin with the most important. In Great Britain the rural cottager's stock of fowls has been limited to six hens and one cock, either because

his means do not permit him to keep a larger number, or because his employer fears the depredations of his labourer's poultry on his corn fields, and therefore forbids him to keep more than a small number. From this cause the Scotch hind in particular is almost universally restricted to keep but six hens and one cock, and from this usual rule has probably arisen the common but mistaken notion, that the cock should not have more than half-a-dozen concubines, whereas by the laws of nature he might be indulged with a score of them, if he could preserve domestic order among so many. At this season dry and warm lodgings are very necessary for fowls. Their yard should be paved or covered with fine gravel or ashes, and if practicable exposed to the sun. Fowls become miserable and ill in cold moist weather, if they have not a dry and warm roosting place at night, and shelter by day. Pip, roup, diarrhea, rheumatism, and gout, are common effects of the influence of cold moisture upon their lungs. Therefore the rafter of a warm cottage, and a nook for laying near the chimney, affords health and fecundity to the poor man's hen, which are not enjoyed in winter by the fowls of the richer one, who keeps his poultry in a cold outhouse. Warm food, too, causes hens to lay more frequently.

But besides temperature, hens are much influenced in laying at this season by the period at which they have moulted. Old fowls cast their feathers later in the season and more slowly than younger ones, and recommence the laying, which had been interrupted during the period of moulting (which occasious physical derangement), later than hens which had moulted earlier. That the laying is chiefly stopped by the changes which take place in the constitution of the hen while she is casting her old feathers and producing new ones, appears from the fact that hens lay freely in February and March, which are actually colder months than those of November and December. Hens that have moulted early in autumn will sometimes be disposed to sit at the present season, in which case a brood may be reared for the Christmas markets, when chickens are worth from 7s to 10s a couple.

We shall reserve our observations upon hatching until the spring-the usual season of hatching. Among the common barn-door fowls the Dorking breed holds perhaps the highest place. It is larger than the ordinary sorts, and distinguished by having two toes behind, besides three in front. The body is round and plump, and the colour both of the plumage and legs is frequently white. The flesh is delicate, the hens are good layers, and their eggs, though somewhat smaller than those of the Spanish and Poland breeds (which are also highly prized) are large. though often entirely white yet they are more frequently dappled with grey. The five toes, without counting the spur, however, is the chief distinctive character of this variety. It is the Gallus pentadactylus of Temminch, and is also spoken of

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as the "five-toed" kind by two other naturalists, Buffon and Bechstein. Hundreds of years ago Aristotle, Columella, and Pliny, mentioned a variety with a similar number of toes, and it is curious that they also were celebrated for being good layers. Our drawing gives the portraits of a pair of first-rate Dorkings.

The flesh of fowls which roam about the poultry yard, and feed on corn with a natural appetite, is assuredly the best flavoured; yet, since grossly heavy poultry is in market demand, the cottager's family will find it beneficial, at this time of year, to cram

fowls. For this detestable purpose a mixture of meal, milk, and fat of any kind is necessary. In the course of three weeks chickens may be rendered very fat, and from a month to six weeks regular cramming is sufficient to render any fowls beastly fat. Seclusion from light and society aid the progress of fattening, by causing continued lethargy.

CAPONS. The loss sustained in flesh and weight by not rendering the male fowls capons is very great. The matter is simple and easy, and the result of the process is, that the birds may be soon increased in weight to 8lbs. or even 10lbs In former times capons were as common in England as they are now in France. Their flesh is very tender and delicate.

TURKEYS.-In Ireland, where the climate is less favourable to the rearing of these birds than that of England, which are so tender in their first stages of growth, though remarkably hardy when reared, large broods of turkeys are reared every year. Why is not this so in England, where they might range over such extensive stubble fields in autumn, and be at all times as cheaply maintained as in Ireland? They require (until put up for high fattening) but corn in the morning, if they have the privilege of seeking grubs and insects, and seeds, and green food in the fields. Turkeys may be fattened by cramming, to the weight of 25lbs. or 30lbs.; but young birds of far less weight are much more delicately flavoured, especially if fed in the natural way. Swedish turnips boiled and mixed with bran will now assist in the keeping of turkeys, until they are put up to fatten with barley meal and potatoes, or meal mixed with parsnips, Jerusalem artichokes, or Swedish turnips, boiled. It has been calculated that two shillings' worth of meal and potatoes is enough for a month's supply of food for each bird, to fatten it to 18lbs. weight.

The most prevalent disease of full-grown turkeys is the pip, which forms a scab near the tip of the tongue, that must be taken off with the nail. Warmth, cleanliness, and nourishing food are the best remedies for the diseases of turkeys and fowls. Mr. Richardson's advice on this head is admirable. "When your poultry are sick, try to find out what is the matter with them, and then learn what is best to do for them. If they are cold, warm them; if wet, dry them; if they do not digest their food, give them a different diet; if they have the opposite ailment from rain or cold, or too much relaxing food, give them corn."

DUCKS AND GEESE.-These useful hardy birds are troubled with few diseases. We have only to give them food enough. Ducks pick up snails and grubs in the garden, where they are often very useful, and both they and geese can be maintained and fattened

with very little aid beyond that which garden roots, cabbages, and lettuces, chopped up with bran, supply. Ducks are so gluttonous, that they will fatten on any offal; but barley or oatmeal, with potatoes, is the best diet to prepare them for the table.

Geese should be fed for the last three weeks on oats twice a day, and barley or meal, with or without potatoes, and milk once. The high-flavoured and enormously large liver of the goose, so prized in Paris, is brought to that diseased and unnatural state by barbarities which shall not be detailed here. As a general rule, with regard to economy, poultry should be quite fat before they are killed--it is at the close of the fattening period that the food tells most. A lean bird, like a lean pig, will eat much more than when in good condition, and without showing the feeding. The frame-work of bones should be fully filled up, and covered with flesh and fat before the bird is killed, else there is loss sustained.

THE BEE-KEEPER'S CALENDAR.-Nov. By J. H. Payne, Esq., Author of "The Bee-Keeper's Guide," &c.

FEEDING.-By this time hornets and wasps will have finished their work of destruction and pillage, each hive, therefore, must now be carefully examined and weighed, and should any be found having less than 18 or 20 lbs. of honey, supply them immediately with a sufficient quantity to bring them up to that weight.

FLOOR-BOARD.-Clean the floor-board of each hive by scraping it with a knife, and brushing it afterwards with a dry brush, and see that each hive stands firmly on its pedestal, and is well defended against wet; and, for effecting this (especially during winter). I have never yet found anything equal to the milk-pan, heavy and unsightly as it unquestionably is. I have seen covers of zinc used, but they are too light, and frequently blown off by the wind, and one night's heavy rain at this time of year will very nearly, if not quite, destroy one of the best stocks A gentleman of my acquaintance has had covers of cork made at a cost of 30s. each, and very elegant things they are, but, after about 14 months' trial, they are abandoned because they will not effectually keep out wet.

ENTRANCES.-The entrances to the hives must now be narrowed so that only two or three bees can come out at the same time, for, at this season, mice are very likely to lodge themselves in the hives, and they are very hurtful and destructive to the bees, for having once fairly lodged themselves in a hive, its entire destruction will be effected by them in a few days. Mr. Huish relates an anecdote of having found a dead mouse in one of his hives. He says, "In the month of December, on inspecting my apiary, I perceived a hive to be in an unusual bustle, and the bees in great agitation. I was convinced that some accident had occurred in the interior of the hive, and I resolved to examine it; to my great surprise, I found a dead mouse on the stand, and it was almost covered with propolis (bee-bread). I at first resolved to remove this nauseous object, but on more mature reflection I was not willing to forego the opportunity of experiencing by actual observation one of the most profound acts of foresight and wisdom which can possibly be found in the works of the animal creation. What power is that which taught the bee the necessity of covering the dead mouse with a plaster? It might have been thought sufficient to kill it, that their property might be saved, and then leave it to waste away in the common process of putrefaction. But were

this process to be allowed to take place, the health and safety of the whole hive would be endangered: to prevent, therefore, this occurrence, the body of the mouse is, as it were, embalmed in a case of propolis, and the object rots away without emitting any offensive odour." I have myself occasionally found a snail fastened to the floor-board in a similar manner. But a greater enemy to bees during the winter months than even the mouse will be found in that little marauder, the blue titmouse (Parus major of Linnæus), which may be said to stand foremost as their enemy. Mr. Purchase says, "she will eat ten or twelve bees at a time, and, by-and-by, be ready for more. When she comes to the hive and finds none, she knocks with her bill at the door, and, as soon as the bees come out to inquire the cause, she catcheth first one and then another, until her belly be full." This I have observed in an apiary of about twenty hives, in a village nigh to me, for the two last winters; the entrances of the hives by the end of the winter having the appearance of being gnawn by rats, which has all been done by these birds Shoot and trap them in the winter, and destroy their nests in breeding time.

THE PHYSIC GARDEN. By a Physician.

No. I. INTRODUCTION.

In boyhood, when hope was young, and not a cloud appeared to shadow and to dark my future; even then my delight was in the leafy woods, the green and laughing fields and the narrow devious lanes around my home. I loved, fancy led, to wander in the lonely valley, with its green hills and silvery stream, and to seek for flowers and curious herbs. Gathered with eager curiosity, they were then a wonder and a mystery to me, and it was a labour to unravel with the aid of my first kind teacher, my now dear friend, their botanical characters, and to assign to each its own appropriate place in my juvenile herbarium. That herbarium remains to me still, and tells me of my youthful dreams, of the aspirations of my prime; alas! it also tells of time mispent, talents misapplied, warnings neglected, and blessings despised. It speaks too in many a tone, which still lingers soft and sweet in my ear. Dear Anna! the gowan you pulled and gave me blooming fresh on the banks of Spey is now, even now before me. Withered and decayed I love it still; but where, alas, is that gay, that happy laughing throng, amidst whose glee and meriment that flower was in silence given! I am grey and sinking into years, a fretful, peevish man; you have other and far off duties to perform, and of the many, there are few who have not passed into their dark and silent graves.

But why look back? "Tis only the unhappy do so, for there is no happiness without hope. Well, well, as life advanced destiny summoned me to sterner duties; and after the usual episode of an University life, I arrived at the "Summos Honores Medicina," (highest honours of medicine,) and became a member of that learned profession which ministers more than any but one to human happiness, by relieving the physical sufferings incident to humanity. Years have silently, advanced upon me; and now, after a happy dispensation of events, I have retired from the cares and anxieties of the profession; and, as "the child is father of the man," the tastes and pleasures of my youth revive within me, and a garden is my chief delight. I occupy myself, however, truly in culling simples, and in cultivating those familiar herbs which are known to relieve pain and sickness when judiciously administered, and which

may well be held as sacred, in the "brief, but simple annals of the poor." It has been suggested by a German philosopher that there probably exists in the yet unknown virtues of some plants a specific remedy for the cure of every disease; and the progress of science seems to justify the belief. The most efficacious remedies are often those which are the most simple. I, therefore, cultivate the plants and herbs which thrive in every well-managed cottage ground; and I aim at culling simples, and obtaining remedies that shall assuage the throbbing of the fever-stricken brow; allay the anguish which attends upon the sense of intolerable pain; and which shall restore health to the afflicted and the sorely tried.

My garden is of no great extent; some dozen notices will probably describe its contents, and their applications in disease and sickness; but yet it is abundantly useful to my neighbours. Nay, the village doctor himself sometimes borrows from my beds, and, though somewhat jealous about what he calls my unprofessional conduct, we are, upon the whole, mighty good friends, for, to tell the truth, he somewhat leans upon me. It is wonderful how much may be produced from a small plot of ground well managed; but here I must premise that to cull simples, and to prepare and administer their products with success, require both skill and experience. It is a task well suited to a physician like myself, who can afford to sit down under the tree of his old age, and devote himself to such a speciality.

OUR VILLAGE WALKS.
(No. 3.)

AUTUMN is advancing rapidly. The equinoctial gales are blowing down the apples and pears, and the heavy rains that accompany them are softening the earth, and soaking the fading leaves, so that every day the foliage looks richer and more brilliant, though falling more thickly on the ground. Autumn

is a season of many tongues; to whichever side we turn we see something that addresses us powerfully. Harvest the rich, merciful, harvest is over, and the gleaning season too is passed; but the fields are again in activity, and the slow tramp of the patient horses is enlivened by the ploughman's whistle as he labours in the rough furrow to guide the plough. What a deeply interesting sight is a stubble-field with the plough turning up the dark moist soil, preparing it for the good seed, hereafter to bring forth " some an hundred-fold, some sixty, some thirty." What an affecting picture of the work of God in the heart of man-more hard to plough up than the hardest clay, and needing more the sharp teeth of the harrow than any weed-choked soil our labourers ever till! We rebel against repeated chastenings, we feel God's dealings with us, at times, to be harder than we can bear; but when we watch closely the operations of the husbandman, and mark how much the land requires to be harrowed and cleaned, to return "seed to the sower, and bread to the eater," we shall cease to wonder at the things we suffer, and adore the patient persevering Hand that breaks up and cultivates the stony ground of which our hearts are formed. Had not our Lord wisely as well as graciously taught His followers by the simple things of nature and the daily occurrences of life, we should lose perpetual instruction and profit; for though some of His exquisite allusions are to customs peculiar to the East, yet abundance belong to all countries and all people, and beautifully convey to the understanding of the poorest man the rich meaning contained in every word our Lord and Master spoke.