Mr. Tower’s goats were visited by Mr. Riley this present summer, and he declares them to be the most interesting specimens of the pure breed he has ever seen. The flock, consisting, in 1823, of two bucks and two does, now (1832) consists of 51 animals. Mr. Riley found them “grazing promiscuously with other stock in the park, and appearing extremely docile. The climate of England renders it necessary that, at night, they should be protected in sheds; and, in winter, fed with hay,” &c. “The down was at this time taking from them by a girl, with a common horse-comb; and, on comparing it with some specimens I had procured in France, received through Russia, I found not the slightest degeneration: but, on the contrary, from its very clean state, and the small proportion of hair, I should say, it would realize in Paris a much higher price than any I had seen. Mr. Tower has had some shawls made from the produce of his flock, one of which he presented to his late Majesty. It was greatly admired, and considered to rival those of Cachemire. Mr. Tower states that his flock produces an average of 2 1/3 oz. of down annually from each animal.”—Gardeners’ Magazine.
* * * * *
THE GATHERER.
* * * * *
Lines on finding a withered Primrose just before the opening of spring.
The primrose has gone ere the Summer’s
bright beam
Had enlivened the glade, or illumin’d
the stream;
It died ere a bud of the forest was seen,
Or Spring had appeared in her tresses
of green.
It bloom’d in simplicity’s
meekest of form,
The spoil of the winds and the gust of
the storm;
Like the offspring of want on a pitiless
shore,
No hand to upraise it—no heart
to deplore!
It knew not the fostering smiles of a
friend,
Or the dew-drops of pity on sorrow that
’tend;
In its solitude drooping, like one in
despair,
It shrunk ’neath the blast of the
wintry air.
In the wildness of nature unnoticed it
grew,
No solace or warmth from companions it
drew;
Forsaken—unpitied—unwept
for—unknown,
Like a child of the desert, it perished
alone.