and stronger plants than later ones, and are therefore much to be preferred. Water copiously all plants in pots, newly-planted seedlings, &c., in the evenings. Gather all decayed flowers, as it prolongs the flowering season of such plants as Calceolarias, China Roses, &c., and is, besides, a nice occupation for children. Destroy weeds. Tie up all advancing flower-stems at an early period, for if allowed to grow straggling at first, no after-management will make them look neat. Examine the buds of Roses for grubs: any plants infested with worms may be cleansed of them by watering with lime-water. POULTRY AND EGGS, &c. FOWLS WITH TOP-KNOTS. UNDER THE NEW CLASSIFICATION OF POULTRY, Mr. Editor, it has become fashionable to call all fowls with crests or tufts of feathers on their heads by the name of Polish. I am at a loss to understand from what reason, since Poland certainly has nothing to do with the origin of any of our breeds of fowls. The name is a misnomer, or at least a corruption of something else. Nor am I inclined to consider all the top-knotted varieties of domestic fowls of the same origin. comb. They have generally a profusion of beard and whiskers; their legs are dark, and their plumage is either golden or silver, laced or pheasanted. The laced marking is where the feathers, either golden or silver, are edged or bordered with black, giving them an imbricated appearance. The pheasant marking is where the feathers, either of gold or silver ground colored, are marked or dotted with black at the extremity only, resembling the feathers of a cock-pheasant's neck; whence the name. This marking is often, improperly I think, called spangled. Polands, Polish, etc., such as are now generally known by these names, are a mixed lot. They are crosses from the foregoing, and, perhaps, also from some others, and, consequently, vary considerably. Hence arise the disputes respecting the beards, etc. Beards, or muffles, are preeminently a characteristic of the old Hamburghs, but it did also occasionally occur in the Paduans and Poles, as it frequently does in all other tufted fowls. There is a tufted cuckoo, or slate-colored fowl, known as Egyptians or blue Polands. Also a common white-tufted fowl called the lark-crested fowl. Moreover, a variety of game fowls, with small tufts, used to be very plentiful some years back, and esteemed for their courage; from which I think it is evident that all tufted fowls can hardly be considered of one common origin.-B. P. BRENT, Bessels Green, Seven-Oaks, Kent. HOW TO KEEP EGGS FRESH. Some of your readers may like to know how to keep eggs fresh. I send you an account of the method practised here:-Take a half-inch board of any convenient length and breadth, and pierce it as full of holes (each one and a half inch in diameter) as you can, without the risk of breaking one hole into another. I find that a board of two feet six inches in length, and one foot broad has five dozen in it, say twelve rows of five each. Then take four strips of the same board of two inches broad, and nail them together edgewise into a rectangular frame of the same size as your board. Nail the board upon the frame, and the work is done; unless you choose, for the sake of appearance, to nail a beading of three-quarters of an inch round the board on the top. This looks better, and sometimes may prevent an egg from The following are the varieties which I think should be acknowledged. 1.-The Padua fowl, so called from the fact of their having been cultivated in Padua, a Venetian legation of Austrian Italy, chief-town Padua. They are described as being very large fowls, the cock so tall that it can peck crumbs from a common dining-table, and often weighing as much as ten pounds; the comb moderate sized, behind which is a large tuft of feathers, which is still larger in the hens, their voice hoarse, eggs large, legs yellow, plumage various; they are supposed to be descended from the Gallus giganteus of Sumatra. Does not this description answer to a tufted Malay? Poles were also a large fowl. They were of Spanish extraction, but where the Spaniards first obtained them is a matter of doubt; most likely from some of their western possessions. St. Jago has been named, but which St. Jago is not specified. They were introduced by the Spaniards into the Netherlands, from whence we obtained them. The Poles were very large roundly-built fowls, rather low on the legs, which were dark-slate or lead-colored; they were destitute of combs, and had large top-rolling off. knots of feathers on their heads, that fell over on all sides. They were considered good layers, and of excellent quality of flesh. There were three varieties of colors: the black with white top-knots, the white with black top-knots, and the spangled, the ground color of which was a mixture of ochre, yellow, and black, each feather having a white spangle at its extremity. These three varieties are now very scarce, if indeed they are not quite extinct. The Hamburghs (by this name I allude to the tufted fowls formerly known by that name, and not to the Dutch every-day layers, which are now generally known by it,) were, and still are, imported from Hamburgh. I believe them to be a mongrel of the Poles. They are smaller, their tufts are not so large, and are fronted by a small Put your eggs in this board as they come in from the poultry-house, the small end down, and they will keep good for six months if you take the following precautions:-Take care that the eggs do not get wet either in the nest or afterwards (in summer, hens are fond of laying among the nettles or long grass, and any eggs taken from such nests in wet weather should be put away for immediate use); keep them in a cool room in summer, and out of the reach of frost in winter, and then, I think, the party trying the experi ment will have abundant reason to be satisfied with it. I find there are some in my larder which I am assured have been there nearer eight months than six, and which are still perfectly fresh and good. In fact, it is a practice here to accumulate a large stock of eggs in August, September, and October, which last until after the fowls have begun to lay in the spring. If two boards are kept, one can be filling and the other emptying at the same time. This is an exceedingly good plan for those persons who keep a few fowls for the supply of eggs to their own family; but would perhaps, not do so well for those who keep a large stock of hens, as it would take up too much room. I have endeavored to account for the admirable way in which eggs keep in this manner, by supposing that the yolk floats more equally in the white, and has less tendency to sink down to the shell than when the egg is laid on one side. Certainly, if the yolk reaches the shell, the egg does spoil immediately. Will some of your correspondents favor me with their opinion ?-T. G., Clitheroe. We take an early opportunity of cautioning our subscribers against the tricks practised by persons advertising the eggs of Cochin China, and other varieties of expensive fowls. If wanted for the purpose of breeding from, they are in most cases, we are told, scalded before being packed and forwarded. The embryon is, of course, thereby destroyed. The seductive prices at which the eggs are offered, would of itself confirm the fact to which we call attention. No persons should deal with any but well-known and respectable tradesmen, and the eggs should be in all cases warranted,"- -or the money to be returned. PUBLIC EXHIBITION. WOODIN'S CARPET-BAG, ETC. MYRIOGRAPHIC HALL, PICCADILLY. WE HAVE JUST BEEN to take a peep at Mr. WOODIN, in his new and elegant quarters-late Salle Robin, Piccadilly; and here indeed he is "at home!" It may seem late in the day to begin talking about what half the world has already seen, and the other half are hastening to see. Yet must we do an act of pleasing duty. We shall not attempt to tell our friends, young and old, (for all must pay a visit here), WHAT they are going to witness. Oh, no! That would be impossible. It would also be unfair, even if possible. Only let the curtain rise, and that "Carpet-bag" be seen, accompanied by that "Sketch-book,"-and expectation will do the rest. is Of the performer, we may remark that he young, of the most pleasing address, figure, and manners, and prepossessing to a degree. The moment you see him you like him, and feel assured that his delight to amuse you fully equals your anticipation of being pleased. He speaks, and you smile; he "illustrates" what he says, and heigh presto! you are introduced at once to the World and his wife-under changes innumerable. Your pleasure is augmented by finding that the principal performer," although sometimes unavoidably absent is yet always in the company. He glides in quicker than a Spirit-rapper's ghost; and converses, too, without an alphabet. The beauty of all acting is,-repose. Mr. Woodin is quite alive to this. Hence the coolness and method, without any apparent effort, which prevail throughout his entire performance. He is "everything by turns, and nothing long." Sometimes he is before us as a Scotchman, sometimes as an English baronet, sometimes as a Frenchman, sometimes as an American. Sometimes we see a mere stripling; then again, a man old as Dr. Parr. Sometimes Mr. W. is a boy; sometimes a girl; sometimes a woman. And excellently well he looks and acts as a woman. His "make-up" is admirable. We need not be too minute, but we really did see the indispensable and "palpable fact supporting his female attire. Then his voice, gait, and assumption of domestic importance! These were all true to nature, and "told" well with the audience. Mr. Woodin possesses extraordinary power over his countenance, as well as over his voice. It is impossible, sometimes, to recognise him under his many disguises. Indeed, we heard his identity disputed more than once during the evening. This is the highest praise we can accord him. All who love to indulge in a hearty scream, which folks rightly say is sometimes "good for the system,' should go and see Mr. Woodin personate "the punster" in a picnic party. His jokes, "let off" under the brim of a most excruciatingly-droll-shaped shallow beaver, really double one up. That jolly punster was fairly "one too many" for us. His "Now for a regular good un !" still rings in our ears. In our early days, we saw CHARLES MATTHEWS in his "At Homes." We have since seen many others, and been pleased with all-more or less. But not even the great Matthews himself could ever do what Mr. Woodin does. Mr. W.'s characters are more numerous and diversified; and, what is better, they are all "finished sketches." He does not depend so much upon rapid changes of dress, as upon presenting his characters well dressed, and individualised. Yet is the rapidity of his movements extraordinary; and when we take our leave of some half hundred individuals-all personated and "animated by one man, we justly pronounce that man a wonderful man. Mr. Woodin is a wonderful man, and he well deserves the fame he has earned. His "At Home" will ever remain popular; for whilst the amusement it affords is considerable, the most fastidious may take their children to witness it, without any qualms of conscience. He sings nicely, acts nicely, and is, in a word, everything one could wish. May the contents of that "Carpet-bag," and that" Sketch-book" never be exhausted! THINGS IN SEASON. WEDDING PARTIES. Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers, P COTTON. ROOFS HAVE WE INNUMERABLE, that there is a time for everything. There is a time to be born, and a time to die. A time to laugh, and a time to weep. A time to dance, and a time to sing. Sorry are we to say, there is also a time to pull a long face-a hideously long face, and to play the hypocrite. But as the month of May, "the" month set aside for this observance, is past-let us for another year at least meet our Creator with smiles of Christian charity and gratitude, and glorify him by enjoying rationally what He has provided for our universal happiness. The earth just now is full of His works. Let us away, and make merry. Glorious month of JUNE-all hail! This is "the" month for completing certain little plans devised in the Spring. We need not speak more pointedly; but let us introduce "Reminiscence" bearing on these plans. It exhibits a picture of every-day life which is now being realised with a change of names and places only-from one end of the country to the other. Brides'-maids,-listen! a THE WEDDING PARTY; OR, PRO AND CON. THE WEDDING-DAY had arrived. All was bright and auspicious. The morning dawned without a cloud; the flowers shone in the sunshine, as if brides themselves; the trees in their new foliage fluttered in the breeze like so many bridegrooms; and the birds sung as blithely as a band of wedding musicians. Within doors, the scene was equally as exhilarating. There were decorated rooms, well-dressed company, tables covered with delicacies-silk, smiles, and civility on all sides. The matron manager of the bridal preparations, knew well the importance of wedding-day arrangements; and, to use the expression common to shows of every kind, the whole "went off with great spirit." Precisely at the proper moment, the bride, veiled like a nun, but robed as for a ball, was supported into the room; company, carriages, and clergymen, were religiously punctual; the day was lovely; the crowd of spectators sufficient; the bridegroom made no blunder about the ring; the bride articulated the responses; VOL. III.-20. the procession returned without accident; the company sat down to breakfast ;-and again, precisely at the proper moment, the bride retired to put on a travelling dress and take leave of her mother. Nothing could have been better managed. But no one, however gay, however worldly, could go through such a series of ceremonies without emotion; and when the gauzes and satins were removed, and the heroine was arrayed to leave her father's house, which was never more to be re-entered as a home, for a few moments she forgot that she was a bride, and burst into tears. "Now, dear Miss, don't take on so-what's done can't be undone. I dare say it is all for the best," said her attendant, the nurse of her childhood; "here you are, the prettiest creature that eyes ever saw-not that you are half so pretty to me as when I had you a baby in long coats all to myself-now a woman grown, turning out into the troublesome world; and how will you ever keep house, and manage servants?-lack-a-day— I hardly know whether to laugh or cry!" how "Nurse," said the lady-mother, recalling the affectionate creature to the more important concerns of the present moment; can you harass this dear child's feelings so? go and see that her dressing-case is placed left the room, and the speaker proceeded to properly in the carriage." The attendant comfort the "mourning bride" after her own fashion. "What is to become of me, if you give way to your feelings in this manner? positively, your eyes are so red, I am quite ashamed. Only think how few leave home with such happy prospects: I shall always be near, and you will have a most delightful excursion. Hark! I hear the carriage drawing up. Now, my dearest love, don't let me have to blush for you at the last; so well as you behaved through the ceremony; no trembling, no tears, no nonsense of any kind: but let me give you one piece of advice, love; when you return, don't let Tomkins lay a finger on your hair; I was quite shocked when we were in church, to see what a friz he had made it." "Oh, mamma, don't, pray, talk so-what signify curls or anything else at a time like this?" replied the daughter, surveying the room with an air of melancholy, partly real, and partly affected. "I never expected to suffer so much at leaving home-I fear I have done a foolish thing; I am changing a certainty for an uncertainty; even the chairs and tables seem to know that I am going; and the poor looking glass that I have dressed at so often-" The fair speaker was here overcome by her reminiscences, and had recourse to silence and her scent-box. "Mary Anne," replied the matron, making use of the looking-glass for the practical purpose of arranging some of her numerous bows and curls; "Mary Anne, this is neither behaving like a sensible girl, nor a good daughter; and I count it perfectly insulting to poor dear George, and exceedingly ungrateful to your father and myself" She was here interrupted by the entrance of the bride's-maid, with present honor and prospective pleasure. She had at first voted most warmly in favor of Cheltenham, as the scene of the wedding excursion; but the bridegroom having with equal consideration and good taste assigned her a companion in office, a charming young man, inasmuch as he was in uniform and unmarried, she was now perfectly contented that they should journey to the Lakes. "What! not ready yet?" was her exclamation on entering the room; " and the carriage waiting, and the luggage fastened on, and George asking for you every instant. Oh, my dear, what is the good of making such a fuss; if you were going to die you could but be unhappy you know! Come, take my arm, and let me set you an exam ple; there, I never saw you look so well, never! We shall have a charming excursion; I seem as if I had known Captain B- ten years; now, no more tears, I beg; every one has been paying you such compliments, and George is so proud of you, and I have been talking about you to the Dickenses, till they are ready to die with spite! 66 Thus re-assured, the bride suffered herself to be comforted; and she was again led into the drawing-room, the very model of graceful resignation. To have looked at her, none but the most uncharitable would have supposed that she herself had ever entertained the slightest wish to become a bride. Love, marriage, and decoration, might all have been the result of mere accident and surprise. Her mother consigned her to her husband as the "best of daughters; " and he of course received her as an invaluable treasure." Every one came forward to say something equally appropriate and delightful, till it appeared that so suitable, so auspicious, so every way happy a union, had never occurred in the annals of matrimony. At length, the bride, with becoming slowness ascended the carriage, the bride'smaid, having less dignity to support, moved after her at a quicker pace, the gentlemen took their appointed stations, heads were bowed, and handkerchiefs displayed, the carriage drove off-and thus commenced the first act of the WEDDING EXCURSION. But before we proceed, a word about the happy couple, and wedding excursions in general. The present bride was devoted to dress, fashion, and gaiety. She had accepted her first offer because it was a good one, and she became attached because she was going to be married. Love and lutestring had, for the last few months, occupied her mind in pretty equal proportions; and her thoughts had been quite as much given to the artists who were to furnish her wedding paraphernalia, as to the husband elect, on whom would depend the happiness or misery of her married life. The gentleman was a good-natured, good-looking young man ; not over-burdened with talent and feeling, but one who could make himself sufficiently agreeable amongst common-place people, and talk sufficiently well on all common-place topics. Had his bride-elect jilted him, it would not, perhaps, have broken his heart; nevertheless, he believed her to be a very charming young woman, and was fully resolved to make her a good husband. The love which subsisted between these trothed," was of that kind on which hundreds and thousands live to their lives' end, and are what the world call "uncommonly happy." Possessing absolutely nothing of that depth and delicacy which gives to the sentiment a hallowed character, their love, aided by the occupations and pleasures of society, maintains a bustling existence; but it is ill-suited to retirement: the world is its home, and there only can it have its being. "be would suggest the propriety of suiting the With regard to wedding excursions, we places visited to the parties who visit. Intellect, as well as heart,-reason, in addition to love, is requisite in those who venture upon seclusion and fine scenery. When the first pleasurable impression is worn off, the devotees of artificial life sigh for worldly haunts and congenial spirits. They grow tired of the lakes, and disgusted with Bolton Abbey itself. Two common-minded persons may converse agreeably in a crowd, and yet be reduced to bankruptcy when thrown upon nature and each other. Deprived of their usual topics, their conversation languishes into "question, the reply, and the rejoinder;' ennui ensues, and those who fancied they could love in a desert, discover that they could love much better in the world. And yet, paradoxical as it may seem, those very causes (idleness and seclusion), which ofttimes induce a diminution of romantic feeling between a married pair, as often induce it in the minds of two who are disengaged; although they too be unintellectual, and deficient in genuine sensibility We pretend not to argue this position; but merely to assert and illustrate its general truth. About a fortnight had elapsed, since the auspicious day with which this paper commenced; during which period, our bridal party had visited much of the scenery of the north: with what effect, the following conversation will evidence. "Don't know, indeed, my dear. I Band Sophia have planned an excursion somewhere: and again the bridegroom closed his silence with a yawn. "I think we must have seen everything, at least I feel as if we had," observed his companion; "don't you think, love, a set of colored views gives one just as good an idea of these places as coming to see them? "Exactly; but then there's the say-so. I wish I had brought my flute and fishing tackle with me; B is not half such good company as I expected-" "And Sophia," interrupted the bride, "is most exceedingly inattentive. I wish we had gone to Cheltenham; what are we to do if there comes another wet day?" Why, you know, my dear," said her husband, "I told you what would happen. These places are only pleasant when you have a large party with you." "Indeed, George, you are quite right; and I wish with all my heart we were at home." sent, and I'll take you down to Cheltenham for a week or two, when our bustle is over at home; I should like that trip myself." The bride was in ecstacies. "And will you, really? Oh, I am quite happy. I will write to my mother to night, and we will leave this stupid place to-morrow; dear, good, kind, indulgent creature! but you won't alter your mind, George," said she, suddenly stopping in her praises, you really will take me to Cheltenham-and stylishly? Oh, we shall be so happy; let us go and tell our companions." Whilst this conjugal dialogue took place without doors, the bride's-maid, and her brother in office, stationed at the inn window, which commanded a view of the same scene, held a conference in a very different strain. We shall merely give its close; informing the reader that the parts we omit related to taste, friendship, Moore's Melodies, happiness, quadrilles, and the last new novel. "Who could ever tire of this scenery?" exclaimed the young lady, with enthusiasm. "Not in such society," replied her companion; "I shall never have such another fortnight." "Impossible! we can never have been out a whole fortnight; it has not appeared a week." "Then you are not tired?" Look "Tired! I could live here for ever. at that darling cottage, with its honey-suckle porch." "Oh, that for thee some home like that may smile!" was the gallant captain's gallant reply. "You have not quoted the line correctly," said Miss Sophia, with delightful simplicity. "Well, then, take the original reading," replied the captain; and he repeated, in a most subduing manner— "O that for ME some home like that may smile!" With a quick sense of propriety, the young lady immediately changed the conversation; and directed her companion's attention to the blueness of the sky, the shadows upon the mountains, and the little boats upon the water. They were interrupted, to receive the information with which the reader is already acquainted. The change of plans did not, as he will readily imagine, meet with their approval; and it was with very different feelings that the bride and bride's-maid sat down to write their respective letters; the former to her mother, the latter to a most intimate friend. We subjoin extracts from both. "Indeed, my dear mother, if I were to be mar ried a hundred times, I would neither come to this country, nor travel with a bride's-maid. Both |