good sense he has shown in getting up these essentials for the poultry-yard at a remarkably cheap rate. We saw fountains as low as 2s. 6d.; and every other article appeared to be assessed at an equally moderate rate. This will ensure them a ready sale.

Among Mr. Hardmeat's recent inventions, we would direct special attention to his

POULTRY RESTAURANT.

This, being adapted for every variety of fowl, may be pronounced an indispensable adjunct to all poultry-yards. It is adapted to hold both food and water; which are supplied, from one vessel, at an equal ratio with the consumption. The "Restaurant" is fitted with sliding regulators, which adapt it to any description of food, from corn to potatoes; and the supply may be shut off when desired.

A list of the different articles invented and manufactured by Mr. Hardmeat, will be found in our advertising columns. His London depot is the Bazaar, Baker Street. Many other poultry shows have been held in various parts of the country; and we consider them likely to lead to beneficial results, inasmuch as they encourage competition. Besides, if they work no other good, they encourage a fondness for animals amongst our womankind, which cannot fail to add considerably to their naturally-kind dispo

sition.

A love for animals cannot be too highly commended. Its effects few persons can be ignorant of. We again caution our friends against purchasing choice eggs for sitting, from any but people of known respectability. They are offered “cheap " by adventurers; but ere they arrive they have been scalded, and the embryon has been destroyed. This trick is now almost universally practised.

HINTS TO AMATEUR GARDENERS.

THE CALENDAR FOR SEPTEMBER.

66

WE ARE NOW unmistakeably reminded, that we are on the verge of Autumn. Our early Summer was a short one; but short as it was, we have enjoyed it. Nature loves to give us compensation," and it is our own fault if we do not improve the many opportunities she gives us of being "happy." Let but the desire show itself, and the way is plain. Our Autumns are indeed truly glorious!

Our general remarks upon this month may be brief.

The shortening days, cold nights, and decreasing gaiety of the flower-borders, must not relax our endeavors to preserve cleanliness and neatness; but rather tend to increase perseverance, in keeping the plants that remain in perfection, and all parts of the garden in still better order. This will

be found the best means of extending the gratifications to be derived from the garden; a clean, neat garden being at all times a pleasing object even in the depth of Winter. There is, however, much to be done this month. Flower-seeds of various kinds must be collected and dried, keeping each in a separate paper, with its name, height, and color, or any other observations marked upon it. Any choice or half-hardy plants which have been growing in the open border during the summer, should now be potted for the window, or be placed under protection. In the absence of better means of keeping scarlet or other Pelargoniums, they may be lifted with the soil adhering to their roots and hung up in a cellar. Beds for choice bulbs should now be prepared; they should be broken up eighteen inches deep, but no manure added so near their surface as to come in contact with the bulbs. We give more minute particulars, in alphabetical arrangement, below.

FRUIT.

During the dry weather, any kinds of apples To ascertain if they are ready for gathering, raise or pears which may be ripe, should be gathered. them gently. If they part readily from the tree, are become brown, they may be taken. Early or if on cutting one through the middle the seeds fruit had better be gathered a little before they are quite ripe. You may still continue to plant out strawberry runners; keeping them well watered. You should also have your vines carefully examined in accordance with the directions we gave for August.

FLOWER GARDEN.

who that is possessed of one does not love All who love their flower-garden,—and it ?-should now devote their unceasing energies to its good-looks. Early and late there is something requisite to be done,something to remove, something to add. Gardening is a most delectable occupation. Antirrhinums. - Succession plants will be in flower by judicious management, but large supplies are scarcely needed.

Auriculas. As these progress, continue and be prompt in the necessary routine of water, air, and cleanliness; if, from watering and stirring, the soil should be wasted, add a little on the surface, to make the fibres secure and well covered look to the frames awaiting them, replace labels if decayed. Biennials.-Finish planting; sow. Bulbs.-These may now be potted; plunging into dry sand, or ashes, or soil, to the depth of six inches. Scillas, Snowdrops, Crocuses, Anemones, Ranunculuses, &c., may be planted in borders two or three inches deep; Hyacinths, Jonquils, &c., four to six inches, in numbers varying from three to twelve or twenty in each patch. Calceolarias.-Keep growing, and remove all decaying foliage.

Camellias should now be again housed; clean, surface stir, and top dress. Carnations.-Get all the stock potted by the end of the month, place in frames close to the glass, shade from strong sun. Chrysanthemums. - As the flower-buds appear, take off all except the centre bud, leaving not more than two bloom-buds on the plants where specimen blooms are required; train the shoots on the specimen plants, when the bloom-buds are set, water with liquid manure, increasing the strength of the liquid from time to time. Cinerarias. Continue as recommended last month, and do not let the plants at any time become pot-bound, fumigate periodically to prevent green-fly, and dust the under part of the foliage on any appearance of mildew. Clumps, need attention, decaying stems cut down, tall plants make secure.

Composts, collect and have in readiness for mixing.

Crocks will be needed in large quantities as potting proceeds.

Cuttings in store pots see to: take, and put in. Dahlias are in their glory this month: look to seedlings, save none but of real merit. A few flowers may be marked and the seed allowed to ripen, select only first-rate properties from which to take the chance of improvement. Epacrises are still better out of doors than in, if the weather be genial: flowering sorts should, however, be under glass if showing color. Ericas.-Get into their winter quarters and make

all clean.

Frames will now be in full use; a good layer of ashes inside, on which to stand the pots, is desirable.

Fuchsias, let remain dormant; if early flowering specimens be wanted, get some into heat to start them.

Greenhouses may now be considered as fully en

gaged; give air in abundance, or premature growths, with weakly wood, will be produced. Hollyhocks.-Look to the ripening seed, cut down spent flower-stalks, protect the plants in hard weather if intended to remain; young plants annually do best.

Hyacinths.-Purchase, pot and plant in borders. Lawns require attention at this time.

Liliums. Discontinue the manure water as the flowers open; when in flower look that all are correct to name. Discontinue water as they go out of bloom.

Lime-water may be given to all pots as before directed.

Pansies. Prepare beds for planting; keep young stock clean; sow seed; discard all worthless flowering seedlings.

Paths-Give a good rolling to, so to make even and firm ere winter sets in. Pelargoniums.-General attention is now required: if any plants are standing about out of doors, they should be either put into a greenhouse or frame. We prefer the house; if the plants are left out they become soddened with wet, which will most likely bring on the spot, and cause the plants to look unhealthy through the winter; the plants at this time require but little water to keep them in good health—always keep clean from green-fly. It will be well this month to

get the different soils into a shed, protected from heavy rains, ready for the final shift for the year; the soil must not be wet when used, but moderately dry. The young plants that have been struck this season, and not stopped back, should be done so now in order to make nice bushy plants.

Piccotees.-After potting a few days, close glassing is necessary to start the fibres into the new soil; protect from excessive rains. Pinks should all be planted ; a few pairs of particular or delicate sorts may be potted to fill gaps in the beds, at early spring.

Plants generally, going to rest, need less water. Polyanthuses, may yet be parted; destroy slugs, and keep the surface of beds well stirred on dry days.

Pots. Obtain a sufficient supply; clean those emptied for the season, as also all, before they are taken into houses or frames.

Primulus, pot on as they fill the pots with roots; keep clean and remove decaying leaves. Ranunculuses.—See to the preparation of beds for, sow seed.

Roses.-Cut seed pods out of all plants done flowering; fork plantations of; secure to stakes; add old manure. Scillas.-Plant.

Seed.-Sow of hardy subjects. Seedlings.-Plant out such as Pinks, Pansies, &c. Snow-drops and similar bulbs, plant. Soils, collect, stack, protect, turn. Sow such seeds as will stand out the winter. Tulips, let each bulb be placed in the boxes as it is intended to bloom in the bed next season, and then transcribe the name in your tulip-book for the coming season; the advantage arising from this method is, that the bulbs are in order for planting at the right time; until which shall arrive, an occasional look through is all that is needed, in order to ascertain that all is right. Should green-fly be anywhere visible, let the same be immediately removed. Now is the proper time to vigorously set about the preparation of beds and soils, for the reception of the bulbs at planting time. Get in your off-sets; also early sorts in pots.

Verbenas. Put off into thumb pots, or small 60's, plants struck last month; where room be an object, the first week in this month take cuttings, placing them round a fortyeight pot in a light, rich compost, quarter sand, keeping the pots close to the glass in either a frame or greenhouse; when struck, thin out the plants to about eight, to prevent their being too crowded. Collect seed. Violets.-Plant and pot; old plants will be giving flowers.

Weeds.-Get rid of in paths, beds, or pots.

LOVE.

THAT is the true season of love, when we believe that we alone can love; that no one could ever have loved so before us; and that no one will love in the same way after us.-GOETHE.

N

OTWITHSTANDING IT IS A COMMON PRACTICE with those who have outlived the susceptibility of the early feeling, or have been brought up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at all love stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passion as mere fictions of novelists and poets, yet my observations of human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They have convinced me that, however the surface of the character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or cultivated by mere smiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest bosom, which, when once enkindled, become impetuous, and are sometimes desolating in their effect. Indeed, I am a true believer in the blind deity, and go to the full extent of his doctrines. Shall I confess it? I believe in broken hearts, and the possibility of dying of disappointed love! I do not however consider it a malady often fatal to my own sex, but I firmly believe that it withers down many a lovely woman into an early grave.

Man is the creature of interest and ambition. His nature leads him forth into the bustle and struggle of the world. Love is but the embellishment of his early life, or a song piped in the intervals of the acts. He seeks for fame, for fortune, for space in the world's thought, and dominion over his fellow men. But a woman's whole life is a history of the affections. The heart is her world; it is there her ambition strives for empire-it is there her avarice seeks for hidden treasures. She sends forth her sympathies on adventure - she embarks her whole soul in the traffic of affection; and if shipwrecked, her case is hopeless, for it is the bankruptcy of the heart.

To a man, the disappointment of love may cause some bitter pangs; it wounds some feeling of tenderness-it blasts some prospects of felicity. But he is an active being; he may dissipate his thoughts in the whirl of varied occupations, or may plunge into the tide of pleasure. Or, if the scene of disappointment be too full of painful associations, he can shift his abode at will; and taking, as it were, the wings of the morning, can "fly to the uttermost parts of the earth, and be at rest."

But woman's is comparatively a fixed, a secluded, and a meditative life. She is more the companion of her own thoughts and

VOL. IV.-8.

feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for consolation? Her lot is to be wooed and won; and, if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured and sacked, and abandoned and left desolate.

How many bright eyes grow dim! how many soft cheeks grow pale! how many lovely forms fade away into the tomb, and none can tell the cause that blighted their loveliness! As the dove will clasp its wings to its side, and cover and conceal the arrow that is preying on its vitals-so it is the nature of woman to hide from the world the pang of wounded affection. The love of a delicate female is always shy and silent. Even when fortunate, she scarcely breathes it to herself; but when otherwise, she buries it in the recesses of her heart, and there lets it cower and brood among the ruins of her peace. With her the desire of her heart has failed-the great charm of existence is at an end. She neglects all the cheerful exercises which gladdened the spirits, and quickened the pulses, and sent the tide of life in healthful currents through the veins. Her rest is broken; the sweet refreshment of sleep is poisoned by melancholy dreams. "Dry sorrow drinks her blood," until her enfeebled frame sinks under the slightest external injury. Look for her a little while, and you find friendship weeping over her untimely grave, and wondering that one who but lately glowed with all the radiance of both health and beauty should so speedily be brought down to darkness and the worm. You will be told of some wintry chill, some casual indisposition that laid her low. no one knows the mental malady which previously sapped her strength, and made her so easy a prey to the spoiler.

But

She is like some tender tree, the beauty and pride of the grove, graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but with the worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly withering when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We see it drooping its branches to the earth, leaf by leaf, until, wasted and perished away, it falls as in the stillness of the forest; and as we muse over the beautiful ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast of the thunderbolt that could have smitten it with decay.

I have seen many instances of women running to waste and self-neglect, and disappearing gradually from the earth, almost as if they had been inhaled to Heaven; and have repeatedly fancied that I could trace their deaths through the various declensions of colds, consumptions, debility, languor, melancholy-until I reached the first symptoms of disappointed love. But an instance of the kind was lately told me. The circumstances are well known in the country where

they happened, and I shall but give them in the manner in which they were related.

Every one must recollect the tragical story of E, the Irish patriot. It was too touching to be easily forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland, he was tried, condemned, and executed, on a charge of treason. His fate made a deep impression on public sympathy-he was so young, so intelligent, so generous, so brave, so everything that we are apt to like in a young man. His conduct under trial, too, was so lofty and intrepid. The noble indignation with which he repelled the charge of treason against his country, the eloquent vindication of his name, and his pathetic appeal to posterity, in the hopeless hour of condemnation-all these entered deeply into every generous bosom; and even his enemies lamented the stern policy that dictated his

execution.

But there was one heart whose anguish it would be impossible to describe. In happy days and fairer fortunes, he had won the affections of a beautiful and interesting girl, the daughter of a celebrated Irish barrister. She loved him with the disinterested fervor of a woman's first and early love. When every worldly maxim arrayed itself against him, when blasted in fortune, and disgrace and danger darkened around his uame, she loved him the more ardently for his sufferings. If, then, his fate could awaken even the sympathy of his foes, what must have been the agony of her whose whole soul was occupied by his image? Let those tell who have had the portals of the tomb suddenly closed between them and the being whom they most loved on earth-who have sat at its threshold as one shut out in a cold and lonely world, from whence all that was most lovely and loving have disappeared.*

But then the horrors of such a grave-so frightful so dishonored! There was nothing for memory to dwell upon that could soothe the pang of separation; none of those tender, though melancholy circumstances, which endear the scene; nothing to melt orr w into those blessed tears, sent like the

S

Our readers may smile at the idea of OUR inserting a tale bearing the title of a "Broken Heart," a thing, now-a-days, rather talked about than realised. However, when the amiable Washington Irving wrote this lovely episode, "Fashion" had not put on her brazen front. Woman's heart had a soft place in it. It could feel; and was not ashamed to own that it felt. We therefore speak of "things as they were;' and pant for a return to the "good old times." Hearts are not "trumps" now. We speak of the rule, not the exceptions. Besides, it must be borne in mind that the heroine of the present tale was not an English maiden.-ED. K.J.

dew of heaven to revive the heart in the anguish of the parting hour.

To render her situation more desolate, she had incurred her father's displeasure by her unfortunate attachment, and was an exile from her paternal roof. But could the sympathy and kindly offices of friends have reached a spirit so shocked and driven in by horror, she would have experienced no want of consolation, for the Irish are a people of quick and generous sensibilities.

The most delicate and cherished attentions were paid her by families of wealth and distinction. She was led into society, and they tried, by all kinds of occupation and amusement, to dissipate her grief, and win her from the tragical story of her love. But all in vain. There are some strokes of calamity which scathe and tear the soulwhich penetrate the vital seat of happiness, and blast it, never again to put forth bud or blossom. She never objected to frequent the haunts of pleasure, but she was as much alone there as in the depth of solitude. Walking about in a sad reverie, apparently unconscious of the world around her, she carried within her an inward woe that mocked all the blandishments of friendship, and "heeded not the charmer, charmed he never so wisely."

The person who told me her story had seen her at a masquerade. There can be no exhibition of far-gone wretchedness more striking and painful than to meet it in such a scene-to find it wandering like a spectre, lovely and joyless, where all around is gayto see it dressed out in the trappings of mirth, and looking so wan and woe-begone, as if it had tried in vain to cheat the poor heart into a momentary forgetfulness of sorrow. After strolling through the splendid rooms and giddy crowd with an air of utter abstraction, she sat herself down on the steps of the orchestra; and looking about for some time with a vacant air, that showed her insensibility to the garish scene, she began, with the capriciousness of a sickly heart, to warble a plaintive air. She had an exquisite voice; but on this occasion it was so simple, so touching-it breathed forth such a soul of wretchedness, that she drew a crowd, mute and silent, around her, and melted every one into tears.

The story of one so true and tender could not but excite, in a country remarkable for enthusiasm, interest. It completely won the heart of a brave officer, who paid his addresses to her, and thought that she, so true to the dead, could not but prove affectionate to the living. She declined his attention, for her thoughts were irrevocably engrossed with the memory of her former lover. He however persisted in his suit. He solicited not her tenderness, but her