your foundation be high and dry, and have all in readiness for your stock to take possession, so soon as by stress of weather out-of-door homes seem uncomfortable. In the meantime prosecute the destruction of all insects, and make all clean, and be ready at a moment's notice to remove all. Bedding Plants.-Cut down or pull up as they decay. Borders. Clean and prepare for bulbs. Bulbs, may still be planted in beds or borders, and if not done last month, may now be potted. Calceolarias, well-rooted, may be shifted. Look to seedlings; keep clean. Camellias.-Keep watered, and occasionally draw the syringe over them towards the end of the month. Carnations-Keep clear from decaying foliage, and grow hardy as possible. Confinement is the origin of spot, mildew, &c. Chrysanthemums.-Continue treatment recommended last month. Toward the middle of the month remove the plants under glass, giving as much air as possible, guarding against rot. Cinerarias.-Continue to pot them as required, and let the plants be removed into their winter quarters. There should be a dry pit or frame, banked up at the sides, to keep out frost. Also have mats or straw in readiness, in case of frost. Prepare compost; equal parts of rich loam, old cow-dung, and leaf mould, and one-tenth sand, except at the final potting, when a larger proportion of loam would be beneficial. Collect Soils, composts, leaves, &c. Crocuses, and similar bulbs, plant. Cuttings, store pots of, keep clean and grow hardy ; take more if quantity be needed. Daffodils.-Plant in the same manner as all similar spring flowering bulbs. Dahlias.-Take up, dry and store away from all chances of frost. Ericas. It is desirable to discourage further growth, ripen new wood, and expel mildew. Keep tolerably dry; admit all the sun and air possible. Evergreens may now be generally planted. Forcing, such as bulbs, &c., may be commenced, if flowers of the same be wanted about Christ mas. Frames, look to protection, if frosts thus early set it. Fuchsias still quiet. Those started for early flowering should be cut in and potted into smaller pots. Green fly, look for amongst store pots of cuttings. Greenhouses, admit the utmost circulation of air to, expel damps by lighting fires, but do not shut up at the same time. Open at the top. Herbaceous-borders, clean as the plants in them decline. Herbaceous Plants, cut down as they go out of flower. Hollyhocks, in pots, require the full influence of air and light. Hyacinths, continue to pot and plant. Those first potted will now be in a condition to be brought forward by increased heat. Keep order and arrange all plants in houses, frames, &c. Liliums.-When the mould in the pots becomes dry, take up the bulbs, removing all the mould. Carefully twist the dead flower stem out, cut away old roots, divide the main and take care of the young offset bulbs. Plant the blooming bulbs, using compost before mentioned, into as small pots as you can conveniently get them in, one in a pot. The off-sets, plant round the sides of pots. Label and plunge the whole from two to three inches below the surface of the ground under a south wall. Manures.-Obtain, stack, and protect from wet. Expose to all frosts, and turn as often as frozen. Open frames, pits, &c., on every favorable opportunity. Pansies, plant out for early spring blooming, without loss of time, that they may be established. Pelargoniums.-Shift all young plants that require it. Re-pot the specimen bottoms that have been disrooted, and have by this time got well-established; putting them in the pots required for blooming in. This applies to plants for May. Water sparingly, and in the morning. If the weather is damp and cold, light a fire to get the heating apparatus in order, in case it should be wanted in a hurry. The soil for potting them is the same as before recommended. Perennials should all be in their places from the seed or nursery beds. Phloxes.-Cut down as the flowers fade. Picotees. When it is necessary to water, avoid wetting the foliage unnecessarily. At this season it is uncertain how soon they may be again got dry. Pinks, if long, need twigs, or other support, so as to secure against strong winds. Pits generally require to have the lights drawn off at every favorable chance. In wet weather tilt both at top and bottom. In bleak windy times open only on the quiet side. In frosts, cover up; if containing tender subjects, with mats, &c. Polyanthuses-Draw earth up to the stems; or do so by adding fresh. Look for, and destroy slugs. Pots of plants should now be generally housed or otherwise protected. Primulas.-Pot on, as they fill with roots, the pots they may be in. By this, finer specimens will be obtained, without potting on early bloom is secured. Protect by mulching, ashes, fern, &c., all half hardy plants out of doors that have done flowering, and have been cut down. Ranunculuses-Turn over the soil of beds in dry weather. Plant the early spring flowering sorts. Roses-Plant. Roses in pots that require shifting may now be shifted. Cut the old roots back, and give fresh rich maiden soil. Store pots of cuttings, and see that they want not for water. Trenching.-Proceed with, as crops be removed from quarters, beds, borders, &c. Tulips-Towards the end of this month is generally considered to be the best time for planting ; inasmuch that a few fine days are more likely to occur than later. Nevertheless, there is but little to fear if the operation be taken into November, provided the green spear be not too elongated. The task of planting is one of no difficulty, providing due attention has been paid to the previous simple and progressive instruc tions, the bed marked out, the soil after repeated turnings, refreshings and additions, replaced and well settled. Proceed to place the bulbs in the bed in the order as noted down in your book, bulb by bulb, and row by row. There are several methods adopted by growers; an easy and effective one is, that your sideboards being six inches high above the surrounding paths, may be filled up to their upper edges, and the soil made smooth and even. Then, by marking the entire bed with the places for the bulbs, deposit the same on the surface, and cover each with a silver sand. This done, it is necessary to have boards three inches broad to place on those already fixed, and then fill up with soil to their upper edgeelevating the centre of the bed at least one inch above the sides. Another method is to plant with a trowel, the bed being first made its proper depth. Regularity is scarcely so readily secured by this method. Verbenas.-Gradually reduce the quantity of water to all the stock. Place them in winter quarters, close to the glass; giving air on all occasions, except in frost. Fumigate to prevent green-fly, and dust the foliage with powdered sulphur to prevent mildew. Collect seed. WINTER FOOD FOR POULTRY. WE have let our own pen be so eloquent on the subject of the hideous unsightly Cochin China fowl; and we have pointed out so frequently the rabid insanity that rules the worshippers of their race-that we are glad to register the opinions of another laborer in the same field. bility. The article is from the pen of a gentleman who, from experience, is fully able to speak upon the subject, and whose opinions and remarks are worthy of every attention : The extraordinary influx of fowls into yards, pens, gardens, and fields-in short, into every unoccupied spot about everybody's premises-begins to wear a serious aspect, now that corn is dear and potatoes failing. "Pets are never in the way," never give any trouble," "make no mess,' cost little or nothing to keep;" in short, are quite economical, picking up what would otherwise be wasted. There is, indeed, a time for all things; and this state of things may exist in summer, when insects abound in every rubbish-heap, and large corn-fields are as yet ungleaned. But there is an evil day not far off, and we may as well warn the inexperienced poultry-keeper in time, that he may lay up such store as may stand him in good stead when his pet fowls have to seek their food from frozen clods (where all the grubs and earth-worms are safely entrenched, beyond the powers of beak or spur to reach them,) and the field has become strawless that erewhile seemed a sea of standing corn. Now, there is a class of very ornamental birds, named wild-fowl, that are daily fed by Nature, and thrive very well on their fare; and it is to their exchequer that we must now turn for a supply, before our ways and means get exhausted. We read of certain miners that had a dozen figs doled out to each man for his breakfast (not a word about the coffee and the bacon); and, owing to the climate (South America), they did heavy work on this light fare. We eat fruits for luxury, but we seldom think of making a meal from the gooseberry-bush or the apple tree; although dried apples formerly were important articles of food in monasteries and religious houses, and Norfolk is famous for them still. As we do not eat fruit ourselves, to any extent, animals, and consequently amazing quantities of we do not appreciate its importance to domestic the very healthiest food for fowls are annually wasted. The mountain-ash produces a berry with venison at the tables of the rich. Birds are very fond of these berries, and they are easily preserved all the winter by gathering them when ripe, and building them up into a stack with straw; or rather, I should say, by putting them into a corn-stack or straw-rick, as the building goes on, which I have done often, and found the bunches rosy red, and quite fresh, at Candlemas, when the rick was taken in to be threshed. It is said, remarks the Editor of the "Gar-which, when preserved like currant-jelly, is eaten deners' Journal," and we think with some truth, that John Bull cannot get on without his hobby; and this hobby seems for the present to be the multiplication, feeding, and rearing of CochinChina fowls. This mania has seized upon and as it were carried off by main force some of our leading patrons of horticulture, and made them in spite of themselves patrons and purchasers of these ignoble bipeds. At such prices, too, have many of these purchases been made, as would have bought up the entire stock-in-trade of some of the metropolitan fancy who dub themselves "nurserymen and florists." Seeing, therefore, that the current of public opinion has set in in this direction, and that the stream is at present so irresistible, no folly could well surpass that which, under present circumstances, should venture to oppose itself to such a headlong torrent. We therefore conform for the present; and make space for the following communication, in the hope of guiding, to some extent at least, the impetuous course of those whose enthusiasm has forced them into the middle of the torrent, where, it would seem, anything like calm reflection and calculation becomes an impossi Here, then, is one of the ways and means of getting a treat for your pets, on a frosty morning, at no great expense; and as shell snails abound in many localities, and are easily kept through the winter in a few faggots, a good stock can now be laid in, thus securing another article of food at a cheap rate, and these, to fowls, are the greatest luxuries you can give them-shells and all. Disease among fowls would be almost unknown, if such natural articles of food were given them as fruits and insects; but heaps of grain, hardboiled eggs, and fermented flour-bread soaked in strong ale, are articles that strongly savor of "jockeyism" such as is practised to get horses up to the selling point. A. F. KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. FASHIONABLE SECRETS. THE HONEYMOON. ICTURES OF EVERY DAY LIFE IN FASHIONABLE SOCIETY, when painted on canvass and brought prominently before the eye, are curiosities in their way. The more closely we examine them in detail, the greater is the amusement they afford. Who would not be a candidate for fashionable life? "In some respects, certainly; for now "I see it is quite impossible to please "You were not used to be so morose, Henry," "observed his wife, reproachfully; but in a tone that indicated a wish to put an Laziness and indepen-end to hostilities. dence are such luxuries! "It is delightful to submit implicitly to the will and dictates of a wife for the first week, or so, after marriage-then it has something of a charm in it, a gentle reliance that tells of love, devotion, and a great many fine things in the catalogue of conjugal duties but really, after one has been married almost a month, it is high time to shake it it becomes a positive off, for calamity; and, like all other calamities, it is sure to increase." then Such were the reflections of the Hon. Henry Manners, as he sat one morning in his easy chair, listlessly admiring his nails; in presence of his young and beautiful wife, who was quietly sipping her coffee, and trying to look as prettily calm and domestic as any married beauty in the British Isles. "John, bring me that book," said she, pointing to a handsomely-bound volume on a table at the other end of the room. 66 Henry," she continued, after the servant had withdrawn, turning over the leaves with her elegant little hand, "see if you can guess its name." "KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL-no doubt," observed her husband, carelessly. "No, it is not; though I bought that delightful book yesterday-try again." "A Treatise on the Cure of Smoke: or Treatment of Children;" replied Manners, yawning slightly, and grinning pointedly. Nay, Henry," replied his wife, with a slight pout and blush; "you are determined not to try." "It is quite impossible for any one to guess," replied the other, industriously biting a ragnail. "How very tiresome you are, Henry!" "I hate morose people-I always did." Nay, it is not that, but-but-you are quite changed, Henry.' VOL. IV.-12. "You were not used to ask such exceedingly unreasonable questions, and then fly in a passion if they were not answered,' replied her husband, turning himself in his chair. "Ah! but then you did not think them unreasonable; you would join in any pleasantry with delight; for then "-she was going to add, "you loved me,”—but her dreadful to think that he loved her not still. tongue refused to utter it; for it was too "Well, well," replied her husband, "this has been our first quarrel, and I hope it may be the last. You are a dear, good wife, Mary; and if you are occasionally a little unreasonable, why Nay, Henry, it really was not I. Confess, now, were you not a little morose? But come, you must put on all your smiles, for I have set apart this forenoon for our making a few more calls together.' "Calls! Mary," said her husband, starting up; "I thought they were now all over; and in honest truth, I'm heartily sick of lack-a-daisying it, and leaving cards tacked together by silver wire; and I am sure, my dear, we spent two mortal days in doing little else." "Pshaw, no! you must consent this one day." "Can't; upon my honor. see any earthly occasion for it." "To oblige me, Henry." "I would do anything but break my word; and that you know you should not ask me to do." "When do you return?" We go to Lord N Dorrington's at seven. And now, Mary, dear, good-bye," said her husband, approaching and kissing her cheek with the air of one who confers a favor. * * * * "In time to dress," repeated his wife, after he had quitted the room; "that will be full six hours-and this is still our honeymoon!" "How much more pleasant it is to dine thus alone, than with the crowd of people we met yesterday at Lord Dorrington's," observed the Hon. Mrs. Henry Manners to her husband, the following day, as he sat sipping his wine. "This, Henry, is the first quiet dinner we have had together since our return to town." "We had plenty of them at Broadland Park, my dear," replied her husband, looking contemplatively at his wine-glass. And "And were they not delightful? then those sweet evening walks!" "Yes, and your bickerings with the gardener," suggested the other. "Oh! that obstinate old man; what a paradise the garden might be made if he would only Nay, my dear, pray don't renew the discussion. But how do you propose spending the evening, Mary? we shall be killed with ennui if we sit here alone." แ Henry!" said his wife, reproachfully. Nay, love, I did not mean that I should be killed, but I thought perhaps you might." "Fear not-here is my work-box. Do you remember the sad havoc you once made with my reels of silk?" said the lady, looking archly. But she might as well have looked archly at the Duke of York's monument-for Manners was fast becoming weary, in spite of himself. "I promised to meet Lord Sweepstakes at Richmond to-night," he observed, musingly. His wife was piqued; for although no nation in the world can endure ennui like the English, there is certainly none at less pains to conceal it--and Manners at length was only kept from downright petulance by the appearance of an evening paper. This he listlessly took up, and placing the lights in the most convenient way for himself to the total disregard of his companion -he began to pore over the columns in the desperate hope of finding some amusement. But it were tedious to tell how a dull evening was spent; and we fear our readers would hardly thank us for such a narration. "Suffice it to say," as the journals have it, that Henry Manners sat it out; not however without making the secret resolution, that so long as the gift of reason was continued to him, he would never submit to such an ordeal again. "Did I hear you order your cab at one?" said Mrs. Manners to her husband, as she entered the breakfast parlor on the following morning. "Yes, my dear," replied the other, pouring out a cup of coffee. "Where do you go to-day?" "Really, my dear, that depends altogether upon circumstances.' "But Henry, I had arranged that you and I were to accompany my sister, Lady Powderflask, to Squeelini's morning concert." "Knowing how particularly fond I am of music," replied her husband. "Nay, but then to accompany me. You know I cannot yet be seen in public without you." "I declare, Mary, you are as full of whims as a superannuated Lady Patroness. What earthly harm can there be in your going to a morning concert without dragging me there, when you know my detestation of all concerts, and morning concerts in particular?" "Dragging you!" cried his wife, thoroughly piqued. "I am astonished to hear you use a word like that." "I know none more applicable," replied her husband, quietly; "seeing that you are not content with my having remained at home all yesterday evening to oblige you.' "To oblige me!" cried the beautiful and once fascinating Mary Dudley, in unfeigned astonishment; and putting back her chair with a domestic tragedy start-"Oh! this is past all enduring-it is mere wanton—” My dear Mary, let us have no 'scenes' for goodness sake! Just employ your own excellent judgment (h-e-m!) for one moment, and you will see that it cannot be expected that I should continue every day, hour, and minute of my existence, in attendance on my wife! Much as I love you, Mary," continued he, with his mouth full of buttered toast, "that, you know, is quite impossible." A considerable pause succeeded; and Manners was beginning to congratulate himself upon the success of what he flattered himself was "firmness," when, to his utter amazement, his wife, towards whom he had not once ventured to look, now burst into a flood of tears! Starting up, he rushed to her side, and made use of all his former terms of endearment, which were yet fresh in his memory; repeating them almost mechanically. But his wife's agitation only continued to increase; and dreading the usual finale of a fainting fit, he pulled the bell violently, and summoned her attendant, who instantly-as they always do-made matters worse, by exhibiting a little agitation of her own, out of sympathy to the "dreadful way " of her "dear mistress." Rap, rap, rap-rap, rap, rap! "Why, zounds!" cried Manners, going to the window, "here is Lady Powderflask. Oh! we shall have the whole family here by-and-by." In bounced her ladyship, who instantly enlivened the scene by a new burst of sympathy. Fragrant essences, soothing expressions on all sides, and a great deal of whispering on one, were put in requisition to restore tranquillity; and in a short time, Mrs. Manners permitted herself to be led to her own room-in a state, however, of extreme "nervous agitation." Manners was left alone. Now, to go out was impossible, it would have been barbarous to have done so. The day, as if to add to his gloom, set in dull and drizzly; and taking up the newspaper, he threw himself into his chair, and began with a melancholy interest, to read the "Coroner's Inquests," and list of "Suicides." "Ah, Manners!" cried Lord Sweepstakes, entering the room about an hour after the events above mentioned. "What! still in your dressing-gown! Why, we shall be late." 66 'My dear fellow, I re-al-ly can-not accom-pa-ny you to-day. "Why not; what's the matter?" "Oh, no-thing-but the fact is-you know—we are old friends; you must pardon a little weakness, eh ?-but the fact is, thank God! THIS IS THE LAST DAY OF OUR 'HONEY-MOON!'"' green uplands and sparkling streams of Devon-in the picturesque valleys of North and South Wales-in the lake scenery of the North of England and the west coast of Ireland-and, above all, in the Scottish Highlands, there is surely enough to attract the tourist; but, for some reason or another, he directs his wandering steps elsewhere! No doubt, this in a certain degree depends upon that mysterious principle in human nature which drives sight-seers far away from their own homes, for the purpose of visiting sights which they would have passed over with indifference had they been situated at their own doors. How often, in the course of his life, does a Londoner visit Westminster Abbey, or St. Paul's, except as escort to a country cousin? We fear the Parisians display the same apathy as to the attractions of Notre Dame, and that the Viennese do not throw away much time upon St. Stephen's. This principle is no doubt operative to a certain extent; but it is insufficient to account for the fact of the reluctance of English people to travel in their own country. There is surely enough in the historical traditions of the English soil, and in the absolute beauty of its surface, to attract us in youth or in old age to every corner of our islands. We are, in point of fact, deterred from making the tour by the execrable character of our hotels, and the extortionate charges exacted for insufficient accom. Such are the every-day pictures of Fash-modation. It is somewhat startling but true, ionable Life. The actors marry, as matter of course; and, as a matter of course, -repent at leisure. What a droll world is ours! TRAVELLING AT HOME AND ABROAD. a THERE ARE MANY ANOMALIES Connected with the habits, usages, and customs of mankind. The very thing which appears only rational, as well as natural for them to do, that, by a strange and unaccountable perverseness, they studiously avoid; taking infinite trouble to procure amusement and delight in foreign countries, when they might find it readily at home! But there are also other reasons. Our contemporary, the Times, has recently dwelt upon this, and exposed the fallacy; but he cannot hope, more than ourself, to alter an established custom. He asks How is it that Englishmen-with the excep tion of commercial travellers-see but little of their own country? and then adds-We are the most migratory people in Europe, and yet are not acquainted with the beautiful scenery and more interesting towns of the island in which our lot is cast! In the that a tourist could spend a couple of months upon the double journey between the United States and England, visit every State of the Union, from the Falls of Niagara to New Orleans, and live in comfort during his whole trip, for a less sum of money than it would cost him to "aim at," we do not say to "attain,' the same amount of comfort during a two months' journey in the British Isles.-Ex. gr. Let us imagine the English traveller during the period of his tour, to visit North and South Wales, the English Lakes, the Scottish Highlands, and to return to his starting-point, London, through York and the midland counties. He is in his own country-he has no trouble with language, currencies, or customs; but, although the fare for the steamer backwards and forwards between England and the States is £30 either way, the whole Transatlantic trip will cost the tourist considerably less than if he had confined his wanderings to his own little island. As to the amount of comfort to be met with on either route, it would be idle to institute a comparison-so greatly is the result in favor of the more distant trip! Here let us pause awhile, and consider, first, the character of hotel accommodation |