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VOLUME IV. *Tis Now OLp Winter binds Gur strengthened bodies in his cold embrace, Constringent ; feeds and animates our blood ; Refines our spirits through the new-strung nerves, In swifter sallies darting to lhe brain. * All Nature ie) the rondeitde force Of WintER. Only to the thoughtless eye - Is ruin seen. THOMSON. “LONDON: WILLIAM SPOONER, No. 379, STRAND; RICHARD GROOMBRIDGE AND SONS, 5, PATERNOSTER ROW; AND PROCURABLE, BY ORDER, OF ALL BOOKSELLERS. AGenT For Dusuiy, Jonn WisenEart; Eprinsures, J. Menzies; Guascow, Joun M‘Leop. ny M. DCCC. LIII. LONDON : M. S. MYERS, 22, TAVISTOCK STREET, COVENT GARDEN, N TO THE READER. ALBEIT WE ARE an avowed enemy of Fashion, yet do we vastly approve the fashion that recognises a short Preface. All we need say, on issuing a FourtH Vo.iumg, lies in @ nut- shell. Our friends are now so numerous—our fair fame is so extensive —and our Information, gathered from all parts of the World, is so interesting—that we have only to tender our best thanks to those who have so bravely supported us; and to express the hope that we shall win even more laurels ere we meet again. The Contents of this Volume speak for themselves., An endeavor has been made to render them amusing as instructive. To produce, and arrange the subjects, has been a labor of love; and if our readers feel, whilst perusing them, one twentieth part of the pleasure WE have experienced whilst preparing them for the public eye,—then will our fondest hopes be realised. WILLIAM KIDD. New Roap, HammMersmitu, January 2nd, 1854. Siitlianicathclasiddalekssatandhademnaeanto totes teene en ne INDEX AND CONTENTS OF VOLUME IV. Air, Value of, to the Roots of Plants, 2 50 Animal and Vegetable Sensation, 53 Ant, The, 356 Ants and Harwigs, to Destroy, 189 Arabian Scenery, 121 Ardent Spirits, 198, 312, 373 * Art” of Advertising, The, 222, 367 Art, Triumph of, 334 Ass, The, 63 Atmosphere and its Pressure, 141 Australia, Natural History of, 323 Auto-Biography of a Dog, 39, 107, 168, 234, 296, 361 Awful Interrogative, An, 223 Aztec Children, The, 31, 301 Bad Temper, 32 Baldness, Causes of, 87 Beauty, analysed by “ Walter,” 317 Bees, 56, 59, 121, 124, 186, 188, 227 Birds, British Song, Acclimated in the United States, 213, 289 — Confined in Cages, 253 —-~ Eyes of, 250 Our ‘ Noble,” 357 —— Their Dislike to White Fruit, 60 Provincial Names of, 249 Vocal Machinery of, 121 Black Beetles, 52 Blessing, The, of Pure Water, 185 Blindness, Thoughts on, 160 Boring Shells, 123 Botanical Notes,—Salcombe Aloes, &c., 325 Bronchitis, Cure for, 254 Bullfinch, The, 251 Butter, Statistics of, 120 Canaries Living in the Open Air, 252 Capercailzie, or Cock of the Woods, 27 Cat, The, 51, 115, 122, 191, 246, 319, 373, 374 Cats and Mesmerism, 374 Cedar, The, 11, 127 Chaffinch, A Remarkable White, 219, 318 Cheap Penny Publications,—The Curse of the Land, 266 China and the Chinese, 324 Chinese Primrose, 126 Chloroform as a Motive Power, 255 Cold, How to Cure a, 252 Convents, and Similar Abominations, 10, 24, 77 “The Agapemone,” 10 Cricket, The, 189 Cruelty to Animals, 137, 283, 312, 327, 340 Crystal Palace, at Sydenham, The, 55, 181 Cuckoo, The, 276 Cypress, The, 124 Dardanelles, The, 254 Delicacy, “‘ Extraordinary ” Instance of, 192 Destructive Insects, 54 Dog, The, 39, 41, 42, 107, 109, 168, 172, 234, 236, 249, 296, 298, 361, 362, 374 Duration of Human Life, Averaged, 120 Earth, The, An Ocean of Melted Rock, 56 Earthquakes in the Tropics, 125 Echoes, Remarkable, 64, 249 England, Good by Compulsion, 245 England’s National Failing, 32 English Climate, The, 254, 335 Cottage, An, 264 Modesty, 91 Engravings Copied by Iodine, 119 ESSAYS AND SKETCHES. Autumnal Ramble, by “ Our Editor,” 209 ; Christ- mas, 281, 295, 301, 305, 320, 352; Clouds of Heaven, The, 260; Condescension, 81; Death, The, of Summer, 214; Death Viewed as Sleep, 17; Education of Women in England and America, 142; Essay on Good ‘Taste, 68; Fashionable Weddings, 272; Fashionable Fol- lies, 273; First Oyster Hater, The, 95; Gen- tleness and its Power, 5; Golden Rules of Life, 198; Hints to Fast Men, 22; Hospitals of London, 259; How to make Home “ Happy,” 221; Human Heart, The, 193; Journey of Life, The, 270; Little Children, 161; “ Little Things,” 159, 319, 337; Loves and the Graces, 143; Man’s Weak Point, 330; Musings by a Benedict, 7; Nature’s Master- piece, the Mechanism of the Human Body, 65; Notes upon Notes, 129, 273; Our Mirror of the Months, 34, 102, 171, 232, 294, 350, 353; Our Moral Nature, 365; Past, Present, and Future, 321; Puffing Husbands and Patient Wives, 74; Study of Natural His- tory, 257; Summer, and more of its “ Con- sequences,” 26; Thoughts on a Few Drops of Water, 93; To-day and To-morrow, 197; Travelling at Home and Abroad, 179; What do we all Live for? 1; Wife, The, of a Literary Man, 131; Wives, Useful and Useless, 86; Women and Novels, 265; World’s Kindness, The, 203; Wrong Letter-Box, The, 66. oe INDEX. Essex Lunatic Asylum, 255 very Thing has its Use, 16 Excitement and its Charms, 15 Faith and Friendship, 60 ‘‘ Fashion's” Devilries, 190, 318 Female Figure, The, 246, 368 Ferns, The Cultivation of, 303 Fish, Artificial Production of, 182, 875 Affection of, 126 Florists’ Flowers, 53 Flowers and their Influences, 33, 62, 78. How to make them Bloom, 121 Fly-Catchers, A Pair of Remarkable, 220 Forced Fruits and Vegetables, 88 Fossil Turtle, A, 252 Frog, The, 119 Fruit, Its Use and Abuse, 279 Fruits and Flowers, Degeneracy in Races of, 125 Gentleman, Definition of A, 273 Glove-Making Machine, 61 Gnats, To Destroy, 118 Goats in Switzerland, 341 Goldfinch, A Tame, 220 —— Mules, 53 Gold Fish, 376 Gossamer, The, 130 Grass Lawns, 61 Gravel Walks, Advantages of, 256 Great Cedar of Hammersmith, 11 Ground-Fish, The, of Bootan, 57 Habit, Thoughts on, 72 Hackney Carriage Act, 59 Haddock, The, 61 Hawking,—The Heron, 42, 94 Heated Vessels, A Paradox, 110 Herring, The, 252 Hints to Amateur Gardeners, 48, 111, 174, 238, 251, 252, 254, 256, 304, 346 Home Birds in Foreign Lands, 213, 289, 318 Horse, The, 317 Horse-hair Eel, The, 58 House-Marten, 273 Howqua’s Own Tea-Garden, 242 Human Frame, The, 355 Hyacinths, and Early Tulips, 224 Hybridising of Plants, 152 Innocence of Childhood, 335 Insanity, 248 Insects,—Deilephila Elpenor, 128, 189 Insect Life, 44 — Strength, 117 Instinct and Reason, 139, 284 Interrogative, An Awful, 223 Intoxication in India, 135 Jealous People, 22 Jeannette, The Amiable Monkey, 132 Judgment applied to Education, 90 King-fisher, The, 57 Leaves of Trees, Impressions from, 125, 189 Life and Beauty in Damascus, 75 —— in an Oyster, 125 Light and Air, Importance of, 32 Lightning, Importance of, 251 Literary Labor,—Drudgery, 374 Live and Let Live, 136 Lobster, Notes on The, 339 Love and Jealousy, 22, 60 Lunacy, 56 Masculine and Feminine, 62 Medical Quackery, 123 Men and Monkeys, 154, 273 Mesmerism, 313, 374 Mignonette Trees, 123 Minuteness of Matter, 62 MISCELLANEOUS PARAGRAPHS. Absence, 223; Action, 27; Affection, 227; Bash- fulness, 117; Begin Well and End Well, 128 ; Botanical Gardens, Manchester, 189; Candor, 311; Charity, 852, 357; Cheerfulness, 32; Childhood, 268, 315, 384; Clouds and Sun- shine, 88; Cold, To guard against, 317 ; Com- panions, 47 ; Confiding Hearts of Women, 253 ; Cure for Burns, 315; Cure for Cramp, 313 ; Cure for Gout, 374; Cure for Lumbago, 316; Cure for Scalds, 315; Cure for Tender Feet, 188; Curious Petrifaction, 248; Cypress, a Large, 317; Dust, Value of, 319; Employment, 374; Hpitaph on an Infant, 262; Fallacies, 16; Folly and Wisdom, 312; First Love, 71; Force, Doctrine of, 311; Forgiveness, 317 ; Frankness, 371; Full Purses and Hard Hearts, 368; Fur, Warmth of, 313 ; Game, Directions for Packing, 247; Gold Fish, 376; Golden Sun, The, 357; Good Actions, 36; Goodness, 67, 228; Hap- piness, 330; Hearts must be Won not Forced, 242; Human Sorrow, 72, 84 ; Humility, 339 ; Immorality of the Age, 243 ; Justice and Mercy, 52; Language of Nature, 314 ; Love, 112, 123 ; Marvellously-Proper Man, A, 25; Mis- seltoe, The, 295, 315, 319, 320; Modesty, 117 ; Nature’s Eloquence, 82 ; New Planet, 313 ; “Odd,” but True, 325; Odor of Flowers, 371; Optical Appearance, 181 ; Our Old English Writers, 135; Poetry and Its Influences, 318; Preaching, Object of, 318; Prudence, 43; Prudery, 117; Putrefaction, 187; Religion, 16, 22 ; Remembrance, 202; Revenge, 208; Science and Revelation, 375; Sea Soundings, 317 ; Selfishness and Brutality, 106; Self-Interest, 50, Singular Epitaph, 55; “ Spinsters,” 190; Stirrup-Cup, 314; Strife, 44; Suggestions by Steam, 295; Summer and Winter, 269, 318 ; Sweet Melancholy, 83 ; Tact, 231; Taste, 7; Tears and Laughter, 323; Titmouse, Nest of the Great, 317; True Greatness, 89; True Ladder of Knowledge, 355; Use, Second Nature, 153 ; Variegated Leaves, 188, 252; Vice, 134, 333 ; Wet Clothes, 288 ; Who is the Most Unhappy? 224; Who shall Decide? 185; Worldly Pleasure, 96. Mistaken Charity, 337, 351 Mock Modesty, 124 Mocking Bird, The, 371 Mole, The, 56 Mont Blane, 150, 246, 375 Morning Air, The, 2 Moths, To Drive away, 55 Mount Vesuvius, 24 Mountains of the Moon, 93 Mulberry Tree, The, 60, 188 Music, Its Effect in Insanity, 248 Nature’s Gift to Man and Beast, 354 ‘“ Naturalists,’’-—Improperly so called, 283, 340 New Year’s Dinner, A, 376 Niagara, Scene at, 90 Notes on the Season, Nov. and Dec., 372 Nuthatch, Nest of The, 149 Oak, The Evergreen, 128 Obituary,—Professor Adrien de Jussieu, 58 INDEX, Observation,— Value of, 125 Ocean, The, and Its Colors, 27, 92 Oil from Tobacco Seed, 54 Ostrich, The, 250 Owl, The, 127, 248, 318 Oxygen Gas, 127 Palm Tree, The, 314 Parasitical Plants, 61 Parrots, 52, 53, 186 “Penny-Wise, ’'&c, 89 People who do not like Poetry, 12 Perfumery and the Fair Sex, 64 Photography, 190, 345 Phrenology for the Million, 37, 104, 165, 229 291, 358 Pigeons, Affection of, 317 Pitcher Plant, The, 57 Plants Sprinkled with Water, 122 Motion of, 58 | in Bed rooms, 119 Poultry, 54, 59, 121, 176, 240, 252, 314, 343 POETRY. | ‘“ Address” by the ‘‘ Devonshire Dove,” 339; Alas, that he should Die! 200; Bachelor’s Dream, The, 84; ‘‘ Beauty!” 362; Birth-day Song, 212; Bright Summer Days are Gone, 277; Bright Vision, A, 88; Come let us part with lightsome Heart, 197; Could I but find on Harth a Spot, 222; Dead Sparrow, The, 208; Dead Rose, The, 360; Decay of Nature, 205; Dying Year, The, 258; Evening Hour, 29; Expansive Heart, The, 350; Fairy King, 367; Fall of the Leaf, 196; Farewell to Sum- mer, 227; Fate of the Oak, 194; Flowers on the Tomb, 89; Fond Hearts! Listen, 366; Forget thee? Never! 354; Fortune and Love, 8; Gentle Words, 53; God, I thank thee for thy Blessing, 335; God made the World, 132; Hark! ’Tis the Voice of Summer, 10; Heads and Hearts, 77; Helen! leave thy Silken Thread, 23; Holiness of Night, 116; Holyrood, 144; Home, 352; Hopes, 10; Human Life, 200; Hymn of the City, 119; I Said,—you Vowed, 351; I sigh for the Land, 154; If Life be ever Pleasant, 349; It is the Song my Mother sings, 330; I would not wish thee back, my Boy, 219; Invitation to the Country,20; Joys of Life, 164; Ladies and their “Yes,” 21 ; Light and Shade, 238; Lines to Mary, 290; Life a Vapor, 355; Live and Let Live, 80; Love for Me and You, 288 ; Loved-one’s Day, The, 26; Love and Constancy, 87; Love Song, A, 256; Maiden’s Dream, 73; Maidens! take Heed, 170; Make Hay while the Sun shines, 4; Music of falling Water, 204; My Love is not a Beauty, 299; Nature’s own Charade, 135; New Year’s Day, 322; No More! 80, 87; Ode to December, 301; Ode to Woman, 280; O! Sing again that touching Song, 47; One Glass More! 14; Over the Grass, 157; Past and Present, 260 ; Path of Duty, 147; Pledge me a Health, 365; Praise, 11; Primrose in Autumn, 300; Quiet Hour, The, 29; Rainbow, The, 139; Resignation, 356; School and Summer, 12; Smiles, 72; Soon I shall hear my Mother’s Voice, 348 ; Three Voices, The, 44; Time and Love, 266; To my “ Dove,” 366; To a Wife and Children Sleeping, 240; To my Soul’s Idol, 168; ‘True Friendship, 69; True Happiness, 68; Village Lovers, ‘The, 275; Voice from the Church Bells, 90; What I Love, 78; Winter Nights for Me! 279; With Roses Musky Breathed, 87; Woman’s Love, 91; Woman’s Smile, 92 ; Woulds’t thou be Mine, 136. Poetry, Charms of, 86, 133 Poisonous Fish, 118 Proposed New Park on Hampstead Heath, 50 Quackery in England, 255 Railway Acts and Bills, &c., 255 Ramble in Darenth Wood, 83 Rananculuses'in Winter, 53 REVIEW OF BOOKS, AND MUSIC. ABC Railway Guide, 286 ; Boys and their Rulers, 347; Cyclopzedia of Poetical Quotations, 153 ; “ Dowsing Fork,” The, 342; Fanny Fern’s Portfolio, 217 ; Ferguson’s Poultry Book, 343; Glenny’s Garden Almanack, 346; Hardwicke’s New Plan of Publishing, 344; Hoge’s In- structor, 287; lustrated London Almanac, 548; Illustrated London Magazine, 214, 284, 841; Lady’s Almanac, 342; McIntosh’s Book of the Garden, 151; Naturalist, The, 94, 148, 216, 283, 339; New Quarterly Review, 217 ; Prince Arthur’s Alphabet, 348 ; Story of Mont Blanc, 146; Thornthwaite’s Guide to Photo- graphy, 345; White’s Selborne, by Sir W. Jardine, 345. Music: —Sailing on the Summer Sea, 192; I love the Spring, 218; Davidson’s Musical Treasury, 348; Hail! Prince Albert, 348.— Hammersmith Concerts, The ‘‘ Black Swan” &c., 315—Exeter-Hall Concerts, 349. Reading at Meal Times, 120 Robin, The, 318, 373 | Roman Coins, 127 Rook, The, 216 Roses, 59, 122, 186, 187 Sea-side Manceuyres, 52 Sea Worm, The, 189 Seeds, Germination of Old, 125 Sensitive Plant, The, 53 Shark, The, 184 Shrike, The, Red-backed, 283 Silkworm, The, 97 Skylark, A Remarkable, 219, 319 Sleep, 127 Snow Storm in May, 84 Soap Plant, The, 192 Sole, The, 126 Somnambulisim, 269 South Africa, Life in, 28 Sparrow Hawk, The, 55 Spider, The, 128, 248 Sprains, Cure for, 124 Squirrel, The, 220 Stainbro’, and its Feathered Tribes, 247 Stars, Light of The, 364 Stickleback, The, 148 Stimuli, The Uses of, 202 Strange Fish, 125 Summer Deiectabilities, Pic-nics, &c., 29 ——-— Enjoyments, 118 Sun, Power of the, 254 Suspended Animation, 60 Suspicious People, 22 INDEX. Swallow, The, 62, 127, 318 Swan, The, 145, 256 Table-Moving, 45, 63 ————_—— New Theory of, by Lunatics, 373 TALES AND SKETCHES. Blackberry Pudding, A, 241; Broken Heart, The, 113; Christmas Disaster, A, 305; Compli- ments of the Season, 332; Eccentric Natural- ist, The, 157; Edith May (with a moral), 217 ; Fashionable Secrets (the Honeymoon), 177; Fashionable Weddings, 272; Plum-Pudding Island, 369; Practical Jokes, 149. Tadpole, The, 119 Tame Animals, A Chapter on, 192 Tenacity of Life in a Fowl, 192 Tench, The, 126 Thermometers, How to Compare, 124 Toad, The, 119 Toad-Fish, The, 187 Tom-tit, Song of the, 149, 248 — Nest of the Great, 317 Turbot, The, 255 Turtie Dove, The, 51 Umbrellas and Sticks, 63 Vaccination, 121 Vegetable Life, Curiosities of, 356 Vegetable Physiology, 3, 70, 195, 250 Vegetation, Prolific Power of, 355 Ventilation, Importance of, 262 Village Tea Party, A, 20 Vinegar Plant, The, 200 Visit to Mucross Abbey, 13 Vulgar Error,—“ Blind as a Mole,” 266. Walton Hall, A Visit to, 205 Wasp, Notes on the, 225 Water Cresses, 52, 61 What do we all Live for? 1, 349, 375 White Wax, Uses of, 56 Wild Dog Spearing in India, 155 Wives and Money, 366 Woody Fibre, Tenacity of, 55 Woman,—Her Form; How to be Preserved “ Beautiful,” 368 Woman’s Mission, 300 Women of China, 144 —— Spain, 134 Women-Cricketers (!) 64 Works of Art, and Public Morals, 308 World, The, and Its Maker, 223 Yew Trees, 11, 80 Zoological Folk Lore, No. III., 278 Zoology, On the Study of, 365 AUGUST, 1853, WHAT DO WE ALL LIVE FOR? Wuat’s “Lire?” At best a wandering breath ; When saddest, but a passing sigh ; When happiest, but a summer wreath— A sigh of roses floating by. CROLY. HEERFULNESS, IT Is WELL- KNOWN, IS THE CHARACTER- ISTIC FEATURE OF OUR LIFE. We hate long faces; and where- ever we find them, we zealously set to work to reduce them to the shortest possible length, in the quickest possible time. We do this on the great principle,—for in order to be “ happy” we must be cheerful. The one is the natural consequence of the other. In all that flows from our pen, we try to establish this truth. Yet with all our cheerfulness, let it not be imagined that we are, or can be, indifferent to the scenes that are daily passing around us, or that we fail to sympathise largely with what we are necessitated to witness in the way of sorrow. He who is the possessor of “a heart,” has enough to do, if he live in London, to control the emotions which that heart must feel between sunrise and the close of day. Tt may be said, that all people have hearts. They have truly; but all hearts are not tender alike. That which causes one to sigh, will more frequently produce merriment in another. We see this, whenever we walk abroad; and blush for our race. We have headed this paper—“ What do we all Live for?” We are not going to say what we all ought to live for. Our sentiments on this matter are impressed upon every page of OUR JOURNAL. We are going to speak of that which ts. At no season of the year more appropri- ately than the present, could we take obser- vations. Every street is full of life and motion; all the shops are attractively set out; every temptation that can catch the eye, and draw the purse-string, is exhibited in the windows. Let us watch the passers- by. The tempter has but to tempt, and his victim is bagged ! Vou. IV.—1. tokens excitement. Just now, amusements and excursions are the order of the day. We see multitudes of people flocking in all directions; commencing at early dawn to meet the various steam- boats and railway-trains. Every face be- All seem bent on plea- sure. If they have but one five-shilling-piece in the world, there are many we wot of who would spend it to its last farthing. This is to carry out their “ great principle,’—for, be it known, there zs a great principle attaching to all grades of society,—but whether a bad or a good principle, we do not say. Thought, reflection, prudence, economy, foresight—rule very little among “ the peo- ple’ in August. ‘ Fun” must be had. Care must be banished. ‘‘ The great folk have gone out of town, so must we.” And away they go! Now we are not against these amusements of the people. Far from it. We would pro- mote them to the fullest extent. We love to see all the world “ happy.’’ It is to the view they take of ‘happiness’’ that WE demur. We want to see their joys more natural, their ideas more rational, their description of a “pleasant day’’ a little more refined. At present — eating, drinking, smoking, and romping, are their swmmum bonum of enjoy- ment. As for the devotees of fashion,—our re- marks can never reach them. ‘They live for fashion only. ‘They care for nothing save appearances. ‘They do not deny it. We note their sufferings day after day, and smile at the ennuz which attends them in their strict routine of severe duties. They dwell in an atmosphere of their own. They are not free agents, but move quite at the will of others. Men, women, and children, pass us daily, whose countenances but too plainly indicate how unenviable is the life they lead. Hypocrisy,—conventional hypo- crisy,—sways every action of their life. They have a face for everybody (etiquette demands this), and are, we imagine, glad to tear off the mask at midnight. It must be a terrible part to play! Downright hard work. Drudgery. But let us proceed. Whilst those of whom we have been speak- ee a er B 2 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ing are squandering away fortunes in the pur- chase of new bonnets, ribbons, fashionable dresses, &c.; visiting exhibitions, attending concerts, making morning calls, and frittermg away their time amidst unceasing gaiety, frivolity, &c.,—let us take a peep at other passers by—all children of one great Father. Note those poor emaciated, sickly girls, hurrying along with large paper boxes. Those boxes contain what they have been sitting up night after night to finish, in order that the painted butterflies of fashion we have made mention of may be rendered still more gaudily attractive. These poor, pale girls, are ‘‘in the habit” of sitting up night after night. They are used to it! What care the gaudy, glittering butterflies? No- thing! “The Slaveys are paid for what they do.” And see those care-worn countenances, that ever and anon flit past us. Does not each one of them tell of a heart consuming with sorrow? And who shall say what that sor- row is? Perhaps a sick husband, a sick wife, a sick child, or a dying parent, are awaiting anxiously the issue of that hurrying step. Application, most probably, is about to be made for the payment of a small bill—long since overdue. ‘The applicant is anticipating a rebuff, and too well knows what he has every reason to expect. Alas! What are mankind made of? Hearts are broken daily, by the hundred ; simply because people will not be honest enough to pay what they owe! It has become “a crime’”’ to ask for one’s own. But why need we multiply cases of sorrow? Daily is the bell heard ‘‘tolling”’ for the dead. Daily are funeral processions passing in array before us. Daily are pictures of sorrow, starvation, and horror, haunting us at every step,—still is the game of life played merrily out. Nothing seems to soften a heart naturally callous. Selfishness and exclusive- ness close the door against all sympathy. Sad, but true! Such is the world! But are there no exceptions? Yes; thank God there are. Whilst Mammon holds his court in public, there are many secret angels of mercy tracing out the abodes of sorrow, and ministering to the necessities of the unfortunate. No record is there in the newspapers of their good deeds ; neither knoweth their right hand what is done by the left. This is true charity. Do not let it be imagined for one moment that our remarks have reference to those well- meaning, but misguided, silly Englishwomen, who, at all hours (seasonable or otherwise), rush hither and thither, distributing a parcel of “Tracts.” Surely not! We allude to something more sensible, something more rational, something more pure and holy. The love of praise too often rules the one; the other proceeds from a purer fountain. We allude to those who— Do good by stealth,—and blush to find it fame. Our much-loved correspondent, “‘ ForEs- TIERA,” has placed in our hands facts con- nected with the labors of certain religious women, that cause us to love the sex better than ever. She has arrayed her facts in the simple garb of truth. The narrative is un- adorned, but sweetly eloquent. Her examples are worthy of imitation. It is true they relate not to England. We wish they did! But they are pleasing proofs of what may be done, and zs done, by many a noble-hearted woman. We care not where she dwells. It is sad that we should require to be taught by foreigners what is “ our duty to- wards God and our fellow-creatures.” Yet do the documents sent us by “‘ FORESTIERA ” prove that we have much to learn in this matter. Self-denial, privation, poverty, and devotion, prevail largely abroad. Can this be said truly of England? Hardy indeed must he be, who would dare to assert it! No! We who inhabit a ‘ Christian land,” must hide our heads when any searching inquiry be made touching our “ self-sacri- fices.” Our lives are patent to all. Whilst human misery dogs our footsteps wherever we tread, we pass on, Levite like,—without feeling much, if any compassion, for the suf- ferer (unless, indeed, our names are to be printed up). Our pleasures must not be in- terfered with,—nor our amusements inter- rupted. In a word, ‘‘ Charity begins at home.” Is it not so? Surely we shall be pardoned for having raised the question,—“ What do we all Live for.” Life never could have been bestowed upon us for the unworthy purpose to which we are in the habit of applying it. Let us reflect upon this. THE MORNING AIR. THERE is something in the morning air that, while it defies the penetration of our proud and shallow philosophy, adds brightness to the blood, freshness to life, and vigor to the whole frame. The freshness of the lip, by the way, is, accord- ing to Dr. Marshall Hall, one of the surest marks of health. If you would be well, therefore—if you would have your heart dancing gladly, like the April breeze, and your blood flowing like an April brook—up with the lark—‘the merry lark,” as Shakspeare calls it, which is “the ploughman’s clock,” to warn him of the dawn— up and breakfast on the morning air—fresh with the odor of budding flowers, and all the fragrance of the maiden spring. Up, up from your nerve- destroying down bed, and from the foul air pent within your close-drawn curtains, and, with the sun, “walk o’er the dew of yon high eastern hills.” KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 3 POPULAR SCIENCE. —_———_— VEGETABLE PHYSIOLOGY. No. I].—Tue Srructurs or Puants. THERE IS SOMETHING PECULIARLY TEMPT- ING to the mind in the study of the minute structure of organic life; to look into the secrets hidden from the vulgar gaze, as it were, in the silent counsels of the Creator. In the pursuit of this knowledge, the student feels the light buoyancy of spirits which characterise our earliest searches after truth. With genuine simplicity he feels himself a child again ; listening to the mysterious re- velations of the Father of all Truth. Aye; and with his microscope in his hand, he is in a fairer way for Heaven than the professed theologian with his empiric distinctions of doctrine and discipline. Simplicity is the great leading trait in all the works of nature; and never is this truth more beautifully illustrated than in the branch of science of which we are treating. So simple indeed is the structure of plants, and even of animals, that we might sum up by stating that a round little globe, a minia- ture bladder—a cell, represents all life, all action, all sensation, even the throne of in- telligence. To illustrate this proposition, let us suppose that we have a thin section of some succulent vegetable substance—say a tuberous root; and subjecting it to a magni- fying power of some two-hundred diameters, what have we then? The field of the microscope, which in reality does not exceed a pin’s head in size, is covered by a piece of netting about two inches across. This net- ting is the cellular structure of which the plant is composed. Each cell was originally separate, and had a distinct covering to it- self; being in fact a bladder, though so small, that it would require from three hun- dred to a thousand of them (placed in single file) to make up one linear inch. Cork, the outer bark of a species of oak, is composed of this tissue, and was found by Hooke to contain more than one thousand cells in the length ofan inch. Little indeed do we ima- gine that a piece of this substance (an inch each way), is made up of 1,000,000,000 dis- tinct cells, all possessed of individual as well as conjoint life. In the example supposed to be under our microscope, we see no evidence of the mass being made up of hollow spheres. The ap- pearance presented is merely that of a piece of net-work, exhibiting dark thread-like lines, crossing each other at somewhat re- gular angles, enclosing clear spaces—gene- rally six-sided. These spaces are the cells; the membrane of which is so delicate as to be invisible, unless when placed edgeways to the eye. So that it follows, as a matter of course, that we cannot see that part on which we look perpendicularly. This phe- nomenon is well illustrated by a piece of window-glass. We know that, as it is usually presented to our gaze it is invisible, save by reflections from its surface, or the occurrence of some foreign body on it; but turn the edge to the eye, and instead of being colorless and perfectly transparent, it becomes colored and almost opaque. The structure which we have just exami- ned is the simplest form of vegetable tissue ; and is supposed to be the parent of all other forms. It is principally found in very suc- culent tubers and roots, fruit, im the flower, pith, and bark. The original form of the cell is said 10 be spherical ; but from various causes, this form becomes changed by pres- sure. The cells change to square, oblong, many-sided; and indeed to an infinitude of shapes. One change, however, is more de- terminate than the rest, 2. e., from the spher?- cal to the tubular. In physiological lan- guage, from the cellular to the vascular. Let us now take as a second object, a fine section, cut lengthways, from the first year twig of a tree; and placing it under our microscope, we have a decided change of scene. True we have still the net-work of cells; but in addition to them, we discover a number of tubes running in a parallel course between them; some retainmg a uniform thickness throughout, and others gradually tapering down toa pointed extremity. These tubes, or vessels, are never found in the lower class of plants—as mushrooms, sea- weeds, and mosses; and occur most plenti- fully in such as form woody stems, as trees and shrubs. Their purpose is two-fold ; they serve as canals through which the fluids pass, and they give solidity and strength to the structure. Foremost among the strength- giving, are those which taper towards the extremity. They are by far the shortest of all the vessels; their length seldom exceed- ing from twelve to twenty times their breadth. They are called fusiform or spindle-shaped, from their tapering at each end, and make up almost the entire bulk of timber. Occasionally, both cells and vessels pre- sent beautiful markings on their surface. Sometimes, they appear as if a band had been carefully wrapped round their exterior, and then they are called spiral cells or vessels, as the case may be. At other times, this ribbon seems. broken up in pieces, and instead of a regular corkscrew-like appear- ance on a vessel, only a number of rings are visible. Or the breaking may go still fur- ther, and a few bars alone remain ; giving the idea, when looked at through the micro- scope, of a ladder. Only one step further is necessary, and all definite marking is lost 4 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL in a confused aggregation of dots or spots. Another kind of marking is more worthy of notice. It occurs exclusively on the spindle- shaped tissue; or rather, the woody-fibre. A row of round dots run perpendicularly down the tube, each surrounded by a dark ring. Occasionally, the row is double, as in the case of a tribe of pines inhabiting southern Chili and New Zealand. Indeed, this punctuated woody tissue occurs only in the pine tribe. All the varieties of tissue to which we have heretofore alluded, possess regular forms; but now we come to one of another class. This form is called the milk-vessels, from their containing a thick fluid, often of a milky whiteness. Plants which bleed freely upon being cut,—as the dandelion, poppy, lettuce, celandine, and India-rubber tree, are rich in this form of tissue ; and in the thinner portions of many of them, it may be detected, resembling irregularly-branched veins, through which a granular fluid is seen coursing. ‘These branched, or milk-vessels, are the least frequently met with of all tissues. Out of these cells and vessels, then, all plants, and parts of plants, are composed ; and to these may they be reduced by means of the microscope. But every part of a plant is not built alike; the materials are similar, but in some the workmanship is finer than in others. The flower which seems to be the master-piece of nature’s excellence, has a most delicate structure. It is com- posed almost exclusively of cells, which, in the case of tulips and lilies, are somewhat elongated; but, in the majority of other plants, approximate to the angular-spherical. These cells are perfectly transparent, but contain in their interiors rich colors of a wonderful diversity of tint; giving to the whole petal the strip, or dot, or the scarcely perceptible blush which suffuses its fair cheek. Few florists would credit the fact, that to produce the flame on a tulip petal, thousands of cavities have to be filled with purples, reds, crimsons, pinks, oranges, yel- | lows, and saffron, of every variety of shade, from the deepest to the lightest: The flowers of some plants contain, besides cells, a number of milk-vessels; a few also ex- hibit an intermixture of the stronger vessels. The dandelion is an example of the former, and Banksia of the latter. The leaf is composed of cells, through which ramify a multitude of vascular bun- dles. These bundles are distinctly obsery- able externally ; and are variously known as the nerves, veins, and ribs. The latter is certainly the least objectionable title of the three, as the purpose of these bundles is to give strength to the leaf’s expanse; while the fact of the plant being destitute of sen- sation, and these bundles then performing no prominent part in the circulation, denies them any claim to be called nerves, or veins. The cells in the leaf contain a waxy sub- stance, of a green color; which, shining through the transparent covering, gives the verdant hue to the leaf. The flower and leaf, as indeed almost all parts of the plant, are covered by a thin, transparent skin, which consists generally of a layer of flattened cells. ‘This comes easily off with the knife, and must be familiar to all your readers. On the lower surface of leaf, situated in this thin skin or epidermis, are to be noticed some of the most beautiful objects which the microscope has yet revealed to us. These are the stomata. Of their functions, I shall have occasion to speak in a future paper. These mouths, or stomata, vary in size and form almost as much as cells do; they con- sist of a rounded oblong, or angled opening, bounded by from two to a dozen cells. In- ternally, they communicate with cavities be- tween the cells, and serve as doors for the admission and ejection of gaseous substances. So many as one hundred and sixty thousand of these openings have been counted on one square inch of lilac-leaf. They generally occur on the under surface exclusively ; though, in a few plants, they appear equally on both sides of the leaf. Particulars regarding the structure of the root and stem, will be found in the next paper. “ MAKE HAY WHILE THE SUN SHINES.” TuHE sun is bright, the air is clear, The darting swallows soar and sing ; And from the stately elms I hear The blue-bird prophesying spring. So blue yon winding river flows, It seems an outlet from the sky ; Where, waiting till the west wind blows, The freighted clouds at anchor lie. All things are new; the buds, the leaves, That gild the elm trees-nodding crest, And e’en the nests beneath the caves ; There are no birds in last year’s nest! All things rejoice in youth and love, The fullness of their first delight ; And learn from the soft Heavens above The melting tenderness of night. Maiden! who read’st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay ; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh! it is not always May. Enjoy the spring of love and youth, To some good angel leave the rest ; For time will teach thee soon the truth, There are no birds in last year’s nest. HW. dus KIDD’'S OWN JOURNAL. GENTLENESS, AND ITS POWER. A woman’s—nay, a little child’s soft hand, With gentle patting easier doth command, And make the bristling boar to crouch and fall, Than any boisterous wrestler of them all. PLUTARCH. IT IS NOT NEEDFUL FOR US to dilate on the magic power of gentleness, which we have ever pronounced to be an irresistible argument when all others fail ; but we know too well the value of such a talisman, to be silent in its praises as opportunity offers. One half at least of the world’s misfortunes originate in their contempt for this virtue. Take our word for it, good people; we may always lead, and win, by kindness. Hard words, cruel speeches, opposition, and per- verseness, prevail neither with mankind nor with animals. But every thing falls before the sunshine of good-nature. We prove this daily. The subjoined fragment will fully illus- trate our meaning :— * fos ok * “T did not hear the maiden’s name; but in my thought I have ever since called her ‘‘Gentle Hand.’ What a magic lay in her touch! It was wonderful. ‘< When and where, it matters not now to relate ;—but once upon a time, as I was passing through a thinly-peopled district of country, night came down upon me, almost unawares. Being on foot, I could not hope to gain the village towards which my steps were directed, until a late hour; and I therefore preferred seeking shelter and a night's lodging at the first humble dwelling that presented itself. “Dusky twilight was giving place to deeper shadows, when I found myself in the vicinity of a dwelling, from the small uncur- tained windows of which the light shone with a pleasant promise of good cheer and comfort. ‘The house stood within an enclo- sure, and a short distance from the road along which I was moving with wearied feet. Turning aside, and passing through an ill-hung gate, I approached the dwelling. Slowly the gate swung onits wooden hinges, and the rattle of its latch, in closing, did not disturb the air until I had nearly reached the little porch in front of the house, in which a slender girl, who had noticed my entrance, stood awaiting my arrival. ‘« A deep, quick bark, answered almost like an echo, the sound of the shutting gate; and, sudden as an apparition, the form of an im- mense dog loomed in the doorway. I was now near enough to see the savage aspect of the animal, and the gathering motion of his body, as he prepared to bound forward upon me. His wolfish growl was really fear- ful. At the instant when he was about to spring, a light hand was laid upon his shaggy neck, and a low word spoken. “<«Don’t be afraid. He won’t hurt you,’ said a voice, that to me sounded very sweet and musical. ‘<< | now came forward, but in some doubt as to the young girl’s power over the beast, on whose rough neck her almost childish hand stilllay. The dog did not seem by any means reconciled to my approach, and growled wickedly his dissatisfaction. “ «Goin, Tiger,’ said the girl—not in a voice of authority, yet in her gentle tones was the consciousness that she would be obeyed; and as she spoke, she lightly bore upon the animal with her hand, and he turned away, and disappeared within the dwelling. ‘‘« Who's that ?’ A rough voice asked the question ; and now a heayvy-looking mau took the dog’s place at the door. “¢Whoare you? What’s wanted?’ There was something very harsh and forbidding in the way the man spoke. The girl now laid her hand upon his arm, and leaned with a gentle pressure against him. “ «How faris it to G—— ?’ I asked, not deeming it best to say, in the beginning, that I sought a resting-place for the night. “< eee SUeT 0 PERS SE Se ee ne FE covanaipeatiousastipiuchandaspapnatelindaakeignsenatnanstithancsnglioa:dataeeaddhenanalitdlltatienadiaca=teeccenddaanahtnidietenan attest ane keasaeeatainaetieetemaeadieenditndanadanmtanedien tied: aaa KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. watching, day after day ; nobody to study his wishes, and keep all his comforts ready. Confound it! has not that woman got back from the market yet? I feel remarkably hungry. I don’t mind the boys being coddled and kissed, if my wife likes it; but there is no joke in having the breakfast kept back for an hour. Oh! by the way, I must remember to buy all those things for the children to-day. Christmas is close at hand, and my wife has made out a list of the presents she means to put in their stockings. More expense! and their school-bills coming in too!! Iremem- ber, before Z was married, I used to think what a delight it would be to educate the young rogues myself; but a man with a large family has no time for that sort of “ amuse- ment.” I wonder how old my young Tom is? Let me see, when does his birthday come? Next month; andasI ama Chris- tian, he will then be fourteen. Boys of four- teen consider themselves all but men now-a- days; and Tom is quite of that mind, I see. Nothing will suit his exquisite feeling but Wellington boots, at thirty shillings a pair, and his mother has been throwing out hints for some time as to the propriety of getting a watch for him—gold, of course! Silver was quite good enough for me when I was half a score years older than he is; but times are fearfully changed since my younger days. Then I believe the young villain has learned to play billiards; and three or four times lately, when he has come in late at night, his clothes seemed strongly perfumed with cigar smoke. Heigho! fathers have many troubles, and I cannot help thinking sometimes that old bachelors are not such wonderful fools after all. They go to their pillows at night, with no cares on their minds to keep them awake, and when once they have got to sleep, nothing comes to disturb their repose—nothing short of the house be- ing on fire can reachtheir peaceful condition. No getting up in the cold to walk up and down the room for an hour or two witha young squeaking varlet, as my luck has been for the last five or six weeks. It is an astonishing thing to perceive what a passion our little Louisa has for crying ; so sure as the clock strikes three, she begins, and there is no getting her quiet again until she has fairly exhausted the strength of her lungs with straightforward screaming. I can’t for the life of me understand why the young villains don’t get through all their squalling and roaring in the day time, when I am out of the way. Then, again, what a delightful pleasure it is to be roused out of one’s first nap, and sent off post-haste for the doctor—as J was on Monday night, when my wife thought that Sarah had got the croup, and frightened me half out of my wits, with her lamentations and fidgets. By the way, there’s the doctor’s bill to be paid soon; his collector always pays me a visit before Christmas. Brother Tom has no doctors to fee, and that cer- tainly is a great comfort. Bless my soul! how the time slips away ; past nine o’clock, and no breakfast yet! ! Wife fondling with Dick, and getting the three girls and their two brothers ready for school. Nobody thinks of me all this time. What the plague has become of my news- paper, I wonder? That young rascal, Tom, has carried it off, I dare say, to readin the school, when he ought to be poring over his books! He’s a great torment, that boy. But, no matter; there’s a great deal of pleasure in married life, and if some vexations and troubles do come with its delights, grambling must be put away. Nevertheless, BRoTHER Tom, all things considered, HAS DONE QUITE RIGHT. He certainly zs a “long-sighted ” man! FORTITUDE AND LOVE.. BY ELIZA COOK. Let me live without Fortune, if Providence will it,. For Joy can be found where small treasure is shed ; Those who bear a full cup are most fearful to. spill it, And oftentimes walk with the narrowest tread. I care not though Fate may deny me profusion, If earth will but show me some rays from above; Tell me not that God’s light is a dreamy illusion— I could live without Fortune, but not without Love! Oh! ’tis pleasant to know there are beings about us Who tune the most exquisite strings in our heart ; To feel that they would not be happy without us, And that we, in our loneliness, sigh when we part. Oh! there’s something divine in the thought that we cherish A star-beam within us, that shines from above— To know, that if all the world gives us should perish, The greatest of Fortune still dwells in our love ! Oh! ’tis glory to feel that we live for some others, That self is not all we depend on below ; That affection yet links us to sisters and brothers, Whose faith will be constant, come weal or come woe. Though the vulture of trouble may harass our bosom, Ne’er fear while our spirit is fed by the dove ; Let the desert of Life give Eternity’s blossom, And we'll live without Fortune, while favored by Love! KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 9 Progress of “Our Journal,” (BY SPECIAL DESIRE.) ** Nothing ventur’d, nothing won,” Is a saying trite and true. Be ye Boup, but rashness shun ; WISELY venture when you bo. PERHAPS OF ALL SPECULATIONS, those of a literary character are the most hazard- ous; especially when any great object is sought to be attained ; all that a man can do —atter he has well. and wisely chosen his ground—is to persevere ; and not suffer him- self to be put down by trifles. If after straining every nerve, emptying his purse, and racking his brain, his project fail,—then must he console himself with the knowledge of his having acted to the best of his ability. We mentioned in the Preface of our Third Volume, that we hoped the public would ‘‘philanthropically enlarge the sphere of our usefulness.” We have been asked to explain HOW this may be done. Nothing can be easier, when so kind a disposition exists. Our labors are at present very heavy, and altogether unremunerative. We are over- tasked, without a near prospect of reward. Our principles are suz generis. They are not those of the multitude. What we rejoice in, they utterly despise. Hence have we to make converts at a very slow-rate,—so that “whilst the grass is growing, the ribs of the steed are seen through his skin.” We would not be mistaken in our meaning. We do go a-head; and we do make many friends. Having made them, we as invariably keep them. Our difficulty is to ‘‘win’’ them in sufficient numbers; for no one suddenly turns from old to new principles. Neither is the human heart made of a peculiarly soft material. The world is notoriously selfish,—cold,— hollow,—superficial. It sees no beauty in a community of sentiment ; no poetry in the idea of living the one for the other. What they have, they hold. It istheirown. They have a “right” to it. This renders them exclusive; education, too, perfects the belief that ‘‘ money makes the man.” We have, in another part of our Paper, asked ‘What do we all Live for?” and we have endeavored to supply the answer. It is against this superficial,—this false view of- the ‘grand end of life,” that our pen has ever been directed ; and hence the compara- tively slow rate at which oUR JOURNAL travels. People shun the naked truth. It is unpalateable. Some twenty years since, we launched our first venture—known as “‘ Krpp’s JOURNAL.” Our principles then were similar to what they are now. But our ideas were more strictly playful; and our pen, in the joyous- ness of its youthful Guide, treated its readers to much more of the amusing, than the per- manently useful. Hence where we now sell many hundreds, we then sold many thousands. Six VoLuMEs, from time to time, saw the light. They had an immense circulation ; and they were eagerly bought up. Indeed, we cannot now procure a single copy of them at any price. Of our former readers, some thousands returned to us last year; and it was really pleasing to notice how very large were the sales of certain of our early numbers. When, however, it was found out that time had rendered us more thoughtful ; that our ideas were expanded; and that we were writing from a feeling of philanthropy, ‘‘to benefit society”—our quondam friends trooped off one by one, and we had to create an entirely new body of supporters. We were cast down sadly by this; but we were not indespair. We knew our cause was a good one, and we persevered. ‘‘ Death or Victory!” was our watchword. Our more recent struggles are too well known to re- quire comment. So great have they been, that we had fully resolved our labors should cease and determine with the Volume just completed. In this we have again been over-ruled,—it being the third time we have given way to counsel.* We have actually ventured on the commencement of another volume,—‘“ to prove that we are not unreasonable!” The issue of this, will try the question of— To be,—or not to be? This question lies with the better part of the public.—we mean that body who feel in- terested in the spread of sound, wholesome, cheerful literature,—free from cant and moral impurity. The aid we ask is simply this—that each one of our present subscribers should kindly use their interest in procuring us one other subscriber. This would at once double our circulation, repay us the cost of present pro- duction, and leave the pleasing prospect of ‘‘a something” at a future day, to put by towards the liquidation of somewhat heavy outstanding obligations. OuR JOURNAL pants to be free. As “ Honesty is the best Policy,” we shall offer no apology for having thus disburthened our mind of a little load of care. Six months will soon pass away ; and then—Nouws verrons. This, be it remembered, is our final effort. We have said it. * One inciting cause for our steady perseverance under difficulties, has been the extraordinary effects produced by our Journat on the minds of cer- tain persons who, on its advent, treated its con- tents with ridicule and contempt. These are now our very best friends and supporters. The genial and kindly tone of our Miscellany has gained us a hearing. This is all we want. Our aim is “direct ” at the heart,—the seat of the affections. 10 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ENGLISH ABOMINATIONS. THE AGAPEMONE. Mownast’RIES AND ConveENts are disgraceful, Unnat’ral Institutions,—by honest nature censur’d, spurn’d, Repudiated. Fore’d institutions, Engendering sentiments unworthy Of mankind, pisGRAcEFUL to the Christian. W. PEACE. THE RECENT OUTCRY by men of inte- grity, against convents and other similar establishments, has no doubt been strength- ened by the filthy doings that from time to time become known through the public news- papers. Sly as the “‘keepers” of these in- stitutions may be and are, still little inklings of their misdoings will, providentially, ooze out occasionally. Hence the alarm among the truly upright. Beginning at Exeter, and travelling north- ward, had we a second Asmodeus amongst us he would doubtless show us scenes which would make “each particular hair’ on our head ‘‘to stand on end.” However, it seems these matters are from policy to be ‘ hushed up.” ‘This is sad indeed; but as we might perhaps, by too close an inquiry, only add to the present secresy observed, and so injure some of the innocent indwellers, we will not assist in multiplying their sorrows. May God protect them! say we. The Agapemone, or Abode of Love, is at all events fair game. The impieties practised here, are but too well known; and yet nobody interferes with them. We have from time to time read public statements of their practices which even in France, or in any other country but England, would have brought down upon the impious ruler of this infernal den condign punishment. Yet, there must be no inquiry! of course not. Are we living in a state of civilisation ? we think not. The recent account of the Agapemone, or the Abode of Love, as detailed by the Sherborne Journal, must not disfigure our columns. Surely not. We wouldrnot dare to print the blasphemous assumptions of Mr. Prince. What is going on within his walls may be readily conceived; nay, it appears to be no secret. Yet do his neigh- bors become reconciled to his propinquity, and grow ‘‘ used”’ to his practices! If WE lived near him,—but let him be thankful that we don’t. “Oh shame! where is thy blush?” All who wish well to virtue, and who depre- cate the incarceration of amiable women with a view to making them ‘“ devout’—a species of philosophy we have often tried vainly to comprehend, should exert them- selves to put down these evils. If not, people will talk ; fathers will fear; mothers will tremble. Surely the sacrifice of a pure- minded maiden should not be so very lightly esteemed as it is! HARK! ’TIS THE VOICE OF SUMMER. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. ————. Harx! ’tis the voice of Summer Breathing soft melody, — Softly its accents murmur, Far over land and sea; Merrily carolling through the trees, Or whispering low to the passing breeze. Gaily her laugh is ringing O’er many a rocky pile, And gentle flow’rets springing, Glean beauty from her smile. Swiftly the sounds o’er the waters steal, And sunbeams dance to the merry peal. Lightly her foot is tripping Over the mountain heath ; Or with gay flowers skipping, She weaves a rosy wreath ; And ever and anon she strays Where dew-drops glisten on the sprays. Now on the velvet turf Her steps at twilight roam ; Then, dashing thro’ the surf, She seeks her ocean home. But ere the moon rides in the sky, She sings the sun’s sweet lullaby. E’en when she rose to kiss The mountain’s fiery tip, Fair roses craved the bliss— And from her gentle lip They claimed their exquisite perfume, And bore away its lovely bloom. Hark! ’tis the voice of Summer Calls thee from toil and care, To welcome each new comer That blooms to call her fair. Go, watch the dawn glide o’er the lea ; There nature holds her revelry ! Go where she smiles to bless, With love and beauty crown’d ; She wears her bridal dress, And flowers bestrew the ground. Oh, many a rare and brilliant gem Is sparkling from her diadem ! Go bathe thy grief-worn face, Where dew-drops deck the sod ; Bow with true Christian grace, And worship Nature’s God. Earth doth His wondrous works declare, AND HEAVEN PROCLAIM THAT GOD Is THERE ! HOPES. “On, boy! why seek’st thou with such care Those bubbles of the sea? Thy touch but frees the prison’d air.”— “Ym gathering Hopes,” saith he. “ Old man! why in that shatter’d bark Dost tempt this troubled sea, Without a compass, rudder, mark ?’’— ‘Tm following Hope,” saith he. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 11 i Lae a he a eR A.A US oe a SUS THE GREAT CEDAR AT HAMMERSMITH. THIS MAGNIFICENT TREE, says Strutt, has every way aclaim to the title of Great, being at this time one of the largest, the stateliest, and the most flourishing in the kingdom. Its stem, at the eround, is sixteen feet six inches in circumference, its height is fifty-nine feet, and its branches cover an area of eighty feet in diameter. When it isin the full prime of its summer foliage, waving its rich green arms to the gentle breezes and hiding the small birds innumerable in its boughs, it forms a fine exemplification of the sublime description of the prophet Ezekiel, in his comparison of the glory of Assyria in her most “high and palmy state.” “ Behold the Assyrian was as a cedar in Lebanon, with fair branches, and with a shadowing shroud, and of an high stature, and his top was among the thick boughs. The waters made him great. The deep set him up on high, with her rivers running round about his plants, and sent out her little rivers unto all the trees of the field. “Therefore his might was exalted above all the trees of the field, and his boughs were multiplied, and his branches became long, because of the multitude of waters, when he shot forth. “ Allthe fowls of Heaven made their nests in his boughs, and under his branches did all the beasts of the field bring forth their young, and under his shadow dwelt all great nations. ‘““Thus was he fair in his greatness, in the length of his branches, for his root was by great waters. The cedars in the garden of God could not hide him. The fir trees were not like his boughs, and the chesnut trees were not like his branches, nor any tree in the garden of God was like unto him in his beauty... “T have made him fair by the multitude of his branches, so that all the trees of Eden, that were in the garden of God envied him.”—Chapter 31. A fertile imagination might be led to suppose ‘that this noble tree had witnessed its princes, its heroes, its statesmen, holding their councils, and forming their lofty projects, under the shadow of its branches. The house with which it may probably be coeval, and which appears to belong to the Elizabethan order of architecture, was in later times the resi- dence of Oliver Cromwell, during the period of the Protectorate; and some who, dazzled by the glare of false greatness, confound striking incidents with grand ones, have been anxious to inspire additional respect for the venerable walls, by assigning to them the unenviable distinction of having had the death-warrant of Charles the First signed within them. Very different at this time are the pursuits carried on,—the consultations held,—in the once stately council-chamber. The house has been the last. half-century devoted to the purposes of educa- tion. Fair and youthful forms supply the place of sour-visaged Puritans and lank-haired Round- heads; mandates and treaties are turned into exercises and themes; and though the cedar may still be made occasionally the confidant of whispered greatness, or visionary happiness, it 1s to be hoped it will never again listen to the schemes of guilty ambition, or the signs of fruitless remorse. Puss. —_—. ANOTHER REMARKABLE YEW TREE GROWING IN DARLEY DALE. I HAVE PERUSED, in the last number of OUR JOURNAL, Mr. Editor, a very interest- ing account of the Yew Tree. As I love these trees, and feel sure that all other lovers of nature must unite in the feeling, let me direct attention to another very beautiful specimen, growing in that pictu- resque spot—Darley Dale. Darley Dale is distant from Matlock some four miles; and from Chatsworth the distance is five miles. The tree [ allude to, graces the south side of the churchyard. My admiration of this very beautiful object, has induced me to ascertain its di- mensions, and I have had it accurately measured. At four feet from the ground, its girth is forty-two feet and four ches. Nor is it in any way a deformed tree. From its vast trunk issue radiating branches of proportional size and length—the whole of fine form, and well-grown. I hardly need tell you, that this king of trees is lovingly cherished by the parishion- ers. Nor is its fame unknown to strangers, of whom a vast number come to pay it a visit. 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 some- times 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 ambi- tion. 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 fel- low 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 sym- pathies 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 aman, the disappointment of love may cause some bitter pangs; it wounds some feeling of tenderness—it blasts some pros- pects 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 asso- ciations, 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 Vou. IV.—8. 113 feelings; and if they are turned to ministers of sorrow, where shall she look for conso- lation? 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. But no one knows the mental malady which pre- viously sapped her strength, and made her So easy a prey to the spoiler. 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 prey- ing 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 beau- tiful 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 disap- pearing 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, me- lancholy—until I reached the first symptoms of disappointed love. But an instance of the kind was lately told me. The cireum- stances are well known in the country where 114 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. they happened, and I shall but give them in the manner in which they were related. Every one must recollect the tragical story of EK , the Irish patriot. It was too touching to be easily forgotten. During the troubles in Ireland, he was tried, con- demned, 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 every- thiug 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 pos- terity, in the hopeless hour of condemna- tion—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 Ivish bar- rister. 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 disap- peared.* But then the horrors of such a grave—so frightful — so dishonored! There was no- thing for memory to dwell upon that could soothe the pang of separation; none of those yender, though melancholy circumstances, which endear the scene; nothing to melt orr w into those blessed tears, sent like the * 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 amiableWash- ington 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.—Ebp. 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 soul— which 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 gay— to 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 affec- tionate to the living. She declined his at- tention, 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 KIDD'’S OWN JOURNAL. 115 esteem. He was assisted by her convictions of his worth, and a sense of her own desti- tution and dependent situation ; for she was existing on the kindness of friends. In a word, he at length succeeded in gaining her hand, though with the solemn assurance that her heart was unalterably another’s. He took her with him to Sicily, hoping a change of scene might wear out a memory of early woe. She was an animated and exemplary wife, and made an effort to be a happy one. But nothing could cure the silent and devouring melancholy that had entered into her very soul. She wasted away in a slow but hopeless decline, and at length sunk into the grave—the victim of a broken heart. It was on her that Tom Moore composed the following lines :— She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, Every note which he loved awaking— Ah! little they think who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! He had lived for his love, for his country he died; They were all that to life had entwined him; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him. Oh, make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, When they promise a glorious morrow ; They'll shine o’er her sleep like a smile from the west, From her own loved island of sorrow! THE DOMESTIC CAT. Ir has been saide that the cat, although a fond creture, will scratch you, if provoked, or if teazed. Now, a woman will do the same thing; yet cannot we help loving her! Let bothe be used kindly then, and their claws will not be employed againste us. Love begetteth love.—From ‘‘ An Essaie on the Householde Cat,” 1714. THERE ARE REGISTERED in the columns of OUR JOURNAL (more particularly in the first volume), many remarkable anecdotal facts connected with the Cat; and there can be no doubt whatever that, amidst many doubtful qualities, she does possess many that may be proriounced amiable. It always gives us pleasure to record any and everything that is interesting in animals ; we therefore make way to day for a few remarks (abridged from a charming paper on “Cats,” signed A. B. R.) which appeared in a recent number of our excellent contem- porary, the “ Illustrated London News.” Is the writer a lady? The genial tone of the subject-matter would indicate as much :— That cats love localities better than persons, is half so much truth as is generally believed. In many of the cases which are commonly quoted in proof, the eat has returned to her former locality because she can make an easier living there than on unknown grounds. I remember a gentleman abusing a cat for attachment to stone and lime rather than to flesh and blood, because, on his changing his residence, puss had practically re- fused to change hers with him, and had gone back to haunt the purlieus of a neighboring granary. I inquired—whether the family had regularly fed her? ‘Oh, dear no!” was the reply; “she could feed herself very well, and did so on the rats and mice and small birds about the barn.” “Then, of course,’ I rejoined, “ the cat has more reason to love the barn than you. It gave her food: she found none here. She might not be aware that you intended to supply her, and animal instinct prompted her—as, if a dog lived on what he could pick up, it would also prompt bim to return to the spot where his wants had been supplied.” The plain truth of the matter is, that well- treated and regularly-fed cats have no particular attachment to a place. On the contrary, they attach themselves to the persons kind to them, and who often notice them; so that the cry of want of personal attachment on the part of the feline tribe, is very frequently mere slander of ladies and gentlemen who have neglected, perhaps ill-treated, the creatures—and yet expect them to be as fond as lovers. How true is this picture of a cat’s life! Almost all cats are starved. We have said so, over and over again. A single half- penny-worth of meat (and that bought grudgingly) transfixed by a wooden skewer, is very frequently the entire quantity of food given (cold water excepted !) to supply the wants of two cats. Hence is it that cats go so often ‘‘ visiting” to a neighbor’s house, taking away with them all they can find in the way of ‘“grub.’’ We do not blame the cat,—surely not; but her inhuman mistress. Still the poor cat suffers. The barbarities practised on our domestic cats are fearfully great. Most dogs too, are kept equally short—more than half-starved. We speak feelingly on this point. The howling of a neighbor’s dog tells us a piteous tale of animal suffering. His agonies must indeed be extreme. But then he is “only a dog!” How the heart sickens at such heathenish brutality ! We can readily believe that cats, well fed and kindly used, do form strong attach- ments— Cats are fond of those who are fond of them; and they are as sharp as needles in finding out their real friends, and in shrinking from people “who don’t like cats.” One of my pussies knows my knock at the door, especially at night, and her mew follows closely on the sound; while gene- rally, a couple of other creatures of the same species -are waiting with her in the lobby, and the whole three accompany me up-stairs in procession. If an axiom in which I feel assured that there is not | they happen to be out of doors at night, a single 116 call will generally bring them scampering home; and if their names prove inefficient, one enuncia- tion of “‘Cat’s-meat!” acts like a spell. It is curious to contrast the mild, and, if I may use the expression, the affable faces of cats which are noticed—perhaps playfully talked to—with the fierce and moody countenances of those neglected creatures which, in London and else- | where, grow half or wholly wild, among gardens, yards, and outhouses, picking up their living as they can. The two classes seem to belony to different species. The well-kept and well-treated house-cat seems rather civilised than tamed; the neglected and too often persecuted brute ovtside the window has relapsed into a skulking savage. You never see the two consort together, and the natural playfulness of the species seems in the outcast to have almost entirely vanished. Now, is all this poor, ragged, beaten, pelted, and un- sheltered pussy’s fault? Far from it. It is too often the fault of her accusers. They do not give her sufficient food. She steals it, gets beaten and driven out ; and perhaps in a month or two acquires that horribly stealthy crawl, and that misgiving, hungry eye—both of which are quite unnatural, and speak a creature under the influence of | constant want, and the fear of tyrant man. Well said, this. It nicely illustrates all we have ever advanced. Starve children, and see if they will not steal to satisfy the appetite. Beat them, and watch the effects of that beating. Should we expect more from a cat than we would from a child? Here follows. a nice distinction between the parlor cat and the kitchen cat. It is sketched by a masterly hand:— A not uncommon phrase in households is that of a “‘ parlor cat” and a “kitchen cat;” and I believe it to be an undoubted fact that there are differences in the character of the creatures, which somehow prompt the one to seek the cheerful light and talk of a sitting-room, and the other rather to brood and nestle in the gloomier and the warmer regions below. ‘The one is always seen conspi- cuous on the rug, or stretched upon the footstool ; the other makes casual appearances upon the | stairs, and flies like a spectre at the approach of anybody but the cook. The one creature seems ' to have a sort of aristocracy in its nature, and it is all but uniformly the handsomest cat of the twain ; the other is, most probably, a vulgar, squat present in it. Of my three cats, two I reckon as parlor cats, par sang; and the third has been, by kind usage and encouragement, coaxed into a degree of the same familiarity. Still, however, the natural timidity seems unconquerable. rapid motion towards the creature, she bounds away like a wild thing. Her two comrades, on the contrary, are frightened at nothing. The room, the occupants, the whole locale, seem their own special sphere and natural dwelling-place ; and the only period of the day when the three ap- pear to be merged into a common character, is as the hour for the visit of the “ cat’s-meat-man”’ ap- proaches; when they are sure to be in waiting at the door, and to set up their sweet voices as soon as they hear that of the vendor of the food. If you make a | _KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. It is to be remarked, that they take not the slightest notice of the daily cry of a rival prac- titioner who perambulates the street at nearly the same time ; and that on Sundays, when no pran- dial visit takes place, they never appear to expect the week-day ceremony, but are perfectly aware of a double quantity of good things being stowed away in a certain cupboard, round which they _ cluster with arching backs and waving tails. | | We conclude with a few very sensible remarks about juvenile and adult cats :— People not unfrequently cry out that kittens are pretty, playful things, but that they lose the gentillesse and piquant prettiness of their youth | when they degenerate into stupid cats! _ The complaint is unreasonable enough. The infantine Johnny Tomkins, who kicked, and crowed, and _lisped funny imperfect words, and made big eyes at his mother, can hardly be expected to repeat ‘the performance some half-century after, when he ‘is Tomkins & Co.—perbaps the mayor of the | town, and a churchwarden of the parish to boot. Why then should sedate ten-years-old puss, who | 1s getting rather stiff in the joints, and likes better and better the summer’s bask, and the winter’s warm, be expected to tumble over a ball of cotton, or to lie on his back kicking at nothing at all, like his own son and heir, whom he gravely ob- serves at these amusements, and sometimes tips over with his paw? Mr.’Tomkins is not blamed for his matured dignity, why then should Mr. Puss ? But the fact is, that the playfulness of kitten- dom can be partially, particularly with healthy and good-tempered cats, kept up, by a little en- couragement, even when they have grown into “potent, grave, and reverend seigneurs ;” and that grim old grimalkins, who have drunk their morning’s milk for a dozen of years, can be in- duced to skip and roll and tumble in the most absurdly awkward mimicry of the small fry, which are still indebted for the lacteal fluid to their mothers. Just so. . And is it not the same with us? Why, WE are as active now, and as playful as ever we were; and as full of fun too— provided, always, we are in the company of those we love. Treat us well, good people; and we, like the veteran cats, will ‘skip, and roll, and tumble” down any hill that the youngest of : Beare ae ; you dare to descend! plebeian, with its original shyness still strongly | Try us when you will. THE HOLINESS OF NIGHT. BY J.S. BIGG. Ir is the hour when Earth, our mother, claims Companionship and sisterhood with stars ; When, throwing off the trammelage of Day, She bounds into the infinite and sings With all the galaxies the ancient songs Of all the ages and of all the suns; The hour when the Eternal One steps from His starry throne, and whispers in the ear Of Universal Nature, the great truths That have to shine upon the golden front Of the To-morrow, to win back man’s soul Unto its purest self and to its God. Ah! Night is holy, like her sister Death. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. INSECT STRENGTH. _ THE MORE WE STUDY THE INSECT world, the more cause do we find for increased admiration. The smaller the thing created the greater reason is there for us to love the Creator for his goodness and wisdom. All who have given attention to the subject, must have felt amazed at the comparative strength of insects. Baron Haller tells us that in great muscular power they appear to excel in pro- portion to their diminutiveness. Of this we have a remarkable example in the common flea, which can draw seventy or eighty times its own weight. The muscular strength of this agile creature, enables it not only to resist the ordinary pressure of the fingers in our endeavors to crush it, but to take leaps two hundred times its own length; which will appear more surprising, when we consider | that a man, to equal the agility ofa flea, would have to leap between three and four hundred yards. The flea, however, is excelled in leaping by the cuckoo-spit, frog-hopper (Tetigonia spumaria, Oliver), which will sometimes leap two or three yards—that is, more than two hundred and fifty times its own length ; as if (to continue the com- parison) a man of ordinary height should vault through the air to the distance of a quarter of a mile. Mouffet, in his “Theatre of Insects,” mentions that an English mechanic, named Mark, to show his skill, constructed a chain of gold as long as his finger, which, together with a lock and key, were dragged along by a flea; which could draw a golden chariot, to which it was harnessed. Bingley tells us, that Mr. Boverich, a watchmaker in the Strand, exhibited, some years ago, a little ivory chaise with four wheels, and all its proper apparatus, and the figure ofa man sitting on the box, all of which were drawn by a single flea. Tke same mechanic afterwards constructed a lan- dau, which opened and shut by springs, with the figures of six horses harnessed to it, and of a coach- man on the box, a dog between his legs, four per- sons inside, two footmen behind it, and a postillion riding one of the fore horses, which were all easily dragged along by a single flea. Goldsmith remarks upon these displays of puli- cian strength, that the feats of Sampson would not, to a community of fleas, appear to be at all miraculous. story of another flea, which dragged a silver can- non twenty-four times its own weight, mounted on wheels, and did not manifest any alarm when this was charged with gunpowder and fired off. Pro- fessor Bradley, of Cambridge, also mentions a remarkable instance of insect strength in a stag- beetle (Lucanus Cervus), which he saw carrying a wand a foot and ahalf long, and half an inch thick, and even flying with it to the distance of several yards. We may understand the proximate cause of the strength of insects, when we look at the prodigious number of their muscles—the fleshy belts. or ribands by whose means all animal motions are performed. The number of these instruments of motion in the human body, is reckoned to be about five hundred and twenty-nine; but in the cater- pular of the goat-moth, Lyonnet counted more than seven times as many ; in the head, two hun- _dred and twenty-eight ; in the body, one thousand six hundred and forty-seven; and around the Latreille tells us a no less marvellous | } 117 intestines, two thousand one hundred and eighty- six ; which, after deducting twenty, common to the head and gullet, gives a total of four thousand and sixty-one. We put the caterpillar of the goat-moth, to which we have before alluded, under a bell-glass, which weighed nearly half a pound, and of course more than ten times the weight of the insect, yet it raised it up with the utmost ease. We then placed overthe glass the largest book we had at hand—‘ Loudon’s Encyclopzedia of Gardening,” consisting of about one thousand five hundred pages of strong paper, and weighing four pounds ; but thisdid not succeed in prevent- ing the escape of the animal, which raised the glass, though loaded with the book, nearly a hun- dred times its own weight, and made good its exit. The multiplicity of its muscles, above enu- merated, two hundred and thirty-six of which are situated in the legs alone, will enable us to under- stand how this extraordinary feat was performed. Even this power.of muscle, however, would doubt- less have been unavailing in raising the loaded glass, except in connexion with two favorable circumstances under which the experiment was performed, and which are necessary to be borne in mind to render the operation credible ; first that the wedge-like form of the caterpillar’s head, in con- nexion with the peculiar shape of the glass, enabled it to lift it ; and second, that one side of the glass resting on the table, the insect only bore half the weight of the glass and book. A peculiar toughness of external covering, sometimes supplies the place of this muscular power in caterpillars. A singular instance occurs in the history of a common downy two-winged fly, with grey shoulders and a brown abdomen (Hristalis tenax, Fabr.) The grub, which is rat- tailed, lives in muddy pools, with the water of which it has sometimes been taken up by paper- makers, and, though subjected to the immense pressure of their machinery, it has survived it in a miraculous manner. Since this grub is rather soft, it must be the tough texture of skin which preserves it, as in the similar instance of the caterpillar of the privet hawk-moth (Sphinz Ligustri), which Bonnet squeezed under water till it was as flat and as empty as the finger of a glove, yet within an hour it became as plump and lively as if nothing had happened. A record of these curious facts will go far, let us hope, towards creating a love for the study of entomology. ‘The world is full of wonders if we would but search them out; and how pure is the pleasure afforded by such a search! BASHFULNESS, MODESTY, AND PRUDERY. Women who are the least bashful are, oftentimes, the most modest; and we are never more deceived than when we would infer any laxity of principle from that freedom of demeanor which often arises from a total ignorance of vice. Pruprery on the contrary, is often assumed rather to keep off the suspicion of criminality, than criminality itself. It is resorted to, to defend the fair wearer,— not from the whispers of our sex, but of her own. Yet is it a cumbersome panoply, andaheavy armour. A prudish woman, young or old, must ever live detested. Any thing that is wnatural, becomes abhorrent. 118 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. SUMMER ENJOYMENTS. DOINGS AT TRENTHAM PARK. THERE IS NO MISTAKE NOW, about out-of- door amusements. All who have a shilling to spend have run away to spendit. And why not? Health is alone thus obtainable in the summer months. There has just been a grand gathering of visitors at Trentham Park* where, by the kind permission{ of his Grace the Duke of Sutherland, all comers may freely enjoy themselves on the greensward. We have re- ceived from our amiable Correspondent, ‘ A Clergyman’s Wife,” before introduced to our readers (see p. 265. vol III.), some very interesting particulars of the doings on the grand occasion; and we quite enter with her into the harmless pleasures of the happy visitors. It must indeed have been a grati- fying sight, to witness so many thousand joyous faces assembled together, making holi- day. The presence of her Grace, the Duchess of Sutherland, too (who was present in the af ernoon), must have added greatly to the effect of the tableau. We learn that, from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon, visitors poured in in a continuous stream ; and at that hour the crowd in the park could not have numbered many less than forty thousand. Some of the young men engaged in cricket, prison bars, and other athletic games; but the majority preferred amusements in which the fair sex could participate ; and many were the parties engaged heart and soul in the stirring polka, and other favorite dances. Pic-nic parties luxuriated beneath the shade of the noble trees skirting the park. Those who pre- ferred “ pairing off”—not exactly as do mem- bers of the legislature,— wandered along the numerous glades opening out in different directions ; whilst the more youthful engaged im various innocent recreations. It is often remarked that “ it always rains on the Trentham day,” but this year was a delightful exception to the watery rule. Warm genial sunshine, and abalmyair, largely promoted the enjoyment of the day. When evening approached, the company began to move off. At nine o’clock the park was deserted, and every road leading there- from thronged with joyous parties returning homewards. Our fair Correspondent, we should observe, *It was the grand week for the Stoke Wakes and the North Staffordshire Races, when it is usual for every class to congregate from all parts of the country for many miles around. High and low, rich and poor, people of all ages and of both sexes—the gentler largely predominatine—mect in armies, on one common ground, in pursuit of one common object—enjoyment. nee was on a visit in the neighborhood. Her observations were therefore leisurely made in a carriage drive. Her description of the holiday dresses, the motley costumes, and the happy faces of their wearers; their dances, and their various rustic sports,—has delighted us exceedingly. Her graphic delineation, too, of the natural beauties of the spot where these festivities were celebrated, 1s quite charming. How refreshing it is for us poor editors, during the season of drought, to meet with a heart like this,—so alive to the beauties of Nature’s pencil; so able to enter into and enjoy the harmless frolics and pleasures of the rustic peasantry ! We regret that our limited space forbids us to print our Correspondents letter in full, but we have endeavored to give the spirit of it. May these little festivities be regu- larly kept up! say we. ‘They are wholesome both for mind and body. ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE. Summer Gnats—These very troublesome little creatures have been, and are just now, committing sad havoc on the human countenance. We both hear them buzz, and feel them bite, whilst slum- bering on ‘the bed of wakefulness.” In such a case, my dear Mr. Editor, that which you so much hate will be found very useful,—I mean the smoke of tobacco, in its least objectionable form of a cigar. Indeed, if coarse brown paper be lighted and the smoke allowed to enter the room for a minute or two, the end will be answered. The gnats will become stupid, and will remain on the walls, “in amazement lost,” until the morning. The window will then be open, and they can take their departure. —Puss. [Thanks. Smoke, we know 7s a good remedy for this seasonable, or, rather, wn-seasonable annoy- ance. We have, more than once, been sadly put out of late by these back-biting little rascals, who are so fond of cheek, and who feast so unmercifully on our tenderest points. They will face you, do what you may to prevent it. Indeed we regard them as a perfect eye-sore. Try the smoke, good people, but use cedar chips instead of pigtail. You will soon find your apartment “all serene.”’] Poisonous Fish.—Much curious and useful information is often lost to the world, from the want of knowledge of what to observe in men who have the opportunity of correctly ascertaining the facts and conditions of many, as yet, unexplained phenomena which fall under their notice. ‘The alleged and generally received facts of the poisonous nature of various fishes, in given loca- lities at certain seasons, whilst they are perfectly innocuous and suitable for food when caught in other places—is one of those mysterious things which can only be explained or disproved by one who possesses both the opportunity and the ability to observe correctly. On this subject Mr. Schomburgh remarks, in some observations on Anegada, one of the Virgin Islands, that whilst —_—_— KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. it is well-known that the yellow-billed sprat, the bottle-nosed cavalla, rock-fish, and at times the king-fish, are sometimes poisonous, and cause immediate death—yet that the sea surrounding Anegada abounds in perfectly wholesome fish of these kinds; and that whilst frequent cases of poisoning by fish occur in the neighboring islands, not a single instance has ever been known in Anegada, where the, in other places, poisonous kinds are eaten with impunity. Mr. W. Hamilton confirms this account of the poison- ous nature of some of these fishes when taken off various of the West-India Islands; stating that the yellow-billed sprat at St. Kitt’s and Nevis, for eleven months in the year, is a most deadly poison; whilst in the twelfth, he thinks in April, it is perfectly wholesome. So fatal is peat enegro eile bias /beemikenonm) toes pae, ’"Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind. whilst eating it! This quality must render it a questionable luxury, even in the wholesome season. Again, all the fish taken on the north- west of St. Kitt’s, and between it and St. Hus- tatia, is said to be poisonous; although fish of the very same kind, found on the other coasts of the island, is harmless. Mr. W. Hamilton properly directs attention to the noxious effects of fish in a certain stage of decomposition ; but fairly re- marks that the facts respecting the periodicity of the poisonous nature of some fishes are left un- touched by this. Again, what is the truth re- specting the alleged poisonous properties acquired by fish, &c., when exposed to the moon’s rays in tropical seas, yet which will remain perfectly wholesome if sheltered from these rays? Facts, not notions, on these points, would be very wel- come to the scientific world, if the residents in those islands, or frequenters of those seas, would direct their attention to them, and communicate the results of their investigations.—H. J. Eingravings Copied by means of Iodine.—M. Niepce de St. Victor investigated some few years since, the action of various vapors on the surfaces of drawings and engravings ; and then noticed that the vapor of iodine adhered to the black parts of an engraving, in preference to the clear white spaces, in such a manner, that the impression might be transferred to paper imbued, or to glass covered with a solution of starch ; but that these copies were fugitive. From recent experiments, he finds that these copies may be rendered per- manent by dipping the design, thus transferred to the starched glass or paper, into a solution of nitrate of silver; when it disappears. It is then to be ex- posed to the light for a few seconds, whereby the iodide of silver, formed by the action of the silver solution on the iodine-starch compound, is rapidly colored, owing to its superior sensitiveness to the action of light, in comparison to the nitrate ; and when the glass or paper, after this exposure, is plunged into a solution of gallic acid the design is developed, after which it must be washed with hyposulphite of soda like other photographs, to render it unalterable. Another process is described by M. Bayard, who exposes the engraving to the iodine vapor, then places it in contact with a plate of glass covered with sensitive albumen, which yields a negative, and from this plate he procures positive impressions by the ordinary methods adopted by photographers; he by having, those 119 means, successfully copied some valuable old en- grayings, without their being in the least degree distorted.—H. Hymn of the City :— Not in the solitude Alone, may man commune with Heaven, or see Only in savage wood And sunny vale the present Deity ; Or only hear his voice Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice. Even here do I behold Thy steps, Almighty !—here, amidst the crowd Through the great City rolled, With everlasting murmur, deep and loud— Choking the ways that wind Thy golden sunshine comes From the round Heaven, and on their dwelling hes, And lights their inner homes— For them thou fill’st with air the unbounded skies, And givest them the stores Of ocean, and the harvests of its shores. Thy spirit is around, Quickening the restless mass that sweeps along ; And this eternal sound— Voices and footfalls of the numberless throng— Like the resounding sea, Or like the rainy tempest—speaks of Thee. And when the hours of rest Come, like a calm upon the mid-sea brine, Hushing its billowy breast— The quiet of that moment, too, is thine ; It breathes of Him who keeps The vast and helpless City while it sleeps. Bryant. Plants in Bed-Rooms.—A silly paragraph has been going the rounds of the daily papers, to the effect that plants, or flowers in bed-rooms, are not injurious! It is well to correct this silly state- ment. Let any one try the experiment for one single night. Flowers not only part with carbonic acid at night, but they give forth a very power- ful odor, which has a violert effect on the nervous system of very many persons. The air of a bed- chamber is sufficiently vitiated by its human occupants. There needs not the presence of other vitiating objects !—Amicus. [Your observations are perfectly just. It is to be regretted, that the public papers should fill up their columns with such nonsense as they do. | Reproduction of the Toad and Frog, without the intermediate stage of Tadpole.—The following brief remarks on the Toad (Bufo vulgaris) and the Frog (Rana temporaria), may perhaps be received with some degree of interest, as they are, I believe, contrary to the generally-received notion of the procreation of these reptiles. Ray, and most naturalists, consider toads and frogs as oviparous animals; yet it is apparent that they are vivi- parous as well. Or if they do not bring forth their young alive, they have the power of reproduction 120 KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. in a different manner to the ova, and subsequent tadpole. Mr. J. Higginhottom, of Nottingham, who has paid great attention to this subject, has clearly proved the development of the tadpole to the perfect toad, in situations wholly deprived of light. This I have, through his kindness, several times witnessed. My present remarks are intended to show that, occasionally, frogs and toads are re- produced in localities where it would be impossible for the intermediate stage of tadpole to have any existence. 1. Toads deposit spawn in cellars, and young toads are afterwards observed. Last summer several masses of spawn were procured from my cellar, having been found deposited amongst de- caying potatoes, &c., and, subsequently, young toads were noticed. The cellar is free from water, and at a considerable distance from any brook,— 2. Young toads are observed among hot-beds. In the kitchen-garden at Highfield House (which is entirely walled round), young toads have been noticed round the cucumber and melon beds. The gardeners have been in the habit of bringing toads to these beds to destroy the insects; these have con- tinued amongst the warm, damp straw, all summer. It is after these beds have remained three or four months, that the young ones have been noticed. Toads would have to travel half-a-mile to reach this garden from the brook or lake ; and also to mount a steep hill, besides taking the opportunity of coming through the door. Toads, so small, are not seen in any other part of the gardens.— 3 Young toads and frogs are observed in abundance at the summit of another hill, whilst quite small. During the past summer, especially in the month of July, very many young toads and frogs were seen amongst the strawberry plants; apparently from a week toa month old. These might possibly have travelled from a brook, afew hundred yards dis- tant ; yet it is strange that, with the exception of these beds, no young toads could be found elsewhere in the garden. A number of full-grown toads are mostly to be seen about these beds—4. Young frogs, dug out of the ground in the month of January. In digging in the garden amongst the strawberry-beds (near where so many toads were observed last summer), in the middle of January in the present year, a nest of about a score young frogs were upturned. These were apparently three or four weeks old. This ground had been previ- ously dug in the month of August, and many strawberry plants buried. It was amongst a mass of these plants, in a state of partial decomposition, that these young ones were observed.—5. Young frogs are bred in cellars, where there is no water for tadpoles. In mentioning the subject to Mr. Joseph Sidebotham, of Manchester (an active botanist), he informed me that young frogs; and, in fact, frogs of all sizes, were to be seen in his cellar, amongst decaying dahlia tubers. The smallest of them were only about half the ordinary size of the young frog, when newly-developed from the tadpole. He further stated, that there was no water in the cellar; and no means of young frogs entering, except by first coming into the kitchen,— a mode of entry, if not impossible, highly impro- bable. Mr, Sidebotham never found any spawn. It seems probable from the above, that frogs are occasionally born alive in situations where no water can be found for the spawn to be deposited in; and that toads are either reproduced in the same man- ner, or from the egg directly. The latter mode seems most likely ; owing to spawn having been found previously to the young toads. Mr. Higgin- bottom tells me, that the same remark on the birth of the Triton, without the stage of tadpole, has been mentioned to him.—H. J. Lows. The Sole-—The common sole, probably from the comparative smallness of its size, is seldom, if ever, caught by bait; only by the trawling-net. Soles are found in great abundance on the coast of England, from Sussex to Devonshire, and on the shores of various counties of Ireland. The sole is full of roe in February, and approaches the shore to spawn about the end of that month, or the beginning of March ; after which, it is extremely soft and watery, and unfit for use. After spawning, the sole retreats into deep water; and in the course of six weeks or two months, recovers its strength. Like the rest of the finny tribe, its flavor is finest when caught in deep water; before the roe or milt is much developed. But in consequence of its being rather shy of bait of any kind, it is not then easily taken. This fish, it is said, thrives in fresh water; where it will grow to double the size of the salt-water sole. It isin good season through- out the entire year, with the exception of the months of February, March, and April.— Henny R, Butter.—The largest quantity of butter from a given weight of food, and the richest milk, are yielded by the milk of the smaller races. The small Alderney, or Jersey, West Highland, and Kerry cows, give a richer milk than even the small Ayrshire. But the small Shetlander is said to surpass themall. These breeds are all hardy, and will pick up a subsistence from pastures on which other breeds would starve. The quantity of butter yielded by different eows in the same yard, and eating the same food, is sometimes very different. Some will yield only three or four pounds, a week; while more will give eight or nine pounds, and a few fifteen pounds a week. As a rare instance, I may mention that a cow has been known in Lan- cashire to yield upwards of twenty-two pounds in seven days.—PROFESSOR JOHNSTONE. Average Duration of Life.—Professor Bu- chanan makes the following obsei vations upon the average duration of life—the effect, in part, of the improvements in medical science. He says that, in the latter part of the sixteenth century, one- half of all that were born died under five years of age, and that the average longevity of the’ whole population was but eighteen years. In the seven- teenth, one-half the population lived over twenty- seven years. In the latter forty years, one-half ex- ceeded thirty-two years of age. At the beginning of the present century, one-half exceeded forty years; and from 1838 to 1845 one half exceeded forty-three. The average longevity of these suc- cessive periods has been increased from cighteen years in the sixteenth century, up to forty-three and seven-tenths by our last reports —D. C. Reading at Dinner—-A very frequent cause of nervous affections originates in intense or unsea- sonable application of the mind—such as in reading while at dinner. By this untimely exercise of the KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. i i A nn of 2 A PS EE ST SST TSS SSeS SS em 121 SA TEESE 5 SONIC D SUR SN UU” Car ere COLE DET De eID DESSERTS nr ee rn rn eS brain, the blood is diverted from its proper course, viz., to the stomach, at the time when it is more particularly required there to enable the viscus to secrete aud supply a sufficiency of gastric juice. Such patients cannot be benefited, except they alter their habits; because, so long as they force the cur- rent of blood towards the brain, when the vital fluid is required elsewhere for the purpose of digestion, this function will be impaired, and but very imper- fectly performed. Consequently, nervous derange- ment will continue to result.—Dawson, Vocal Machinery of Birds.—It is difficult to account for so small a creature as a bird making a tone as loud as some animals a thousand times its size. It has become known that in birds the lungs have several openings, communicating with cor- responding air bags or cells, which fill the whole cavity of the body, from the neck downwards, and into which the air passes and repasses in the pro- gress of breathing. This is not all. The very bones are hollow; and from these, air-pipes are conveyed to the most solid parts of the body, even into the quills and feathers. This air being rarefied by the heat of their body, adds to their levity. By forcing the air out of the body, they cau dart down from the greatest height with astonishing velocity. No doubt the same machinery forms the basis of their vocal powers, and at once solves the mystery. —Rosa B. Nature and Art ;—or, How to Make Flowers Bloom.—Take of sulphate of ammonia, a quarter of a pound ; nitrate of potash (common nitre), two ounces; moist sugar, one ounce; boiling water, one pint. Mix well together. All the ingredients are soluble in water. When cold, the mixture is ready for use. For plants near their flowering time, either in pots or the open ground, add a few drops to the water that is used to moisten them. For hyacinths in glasses, add from five to ten drops of the mixture to the water in which each bulb is growing; changing the water in the hyacinth- glass about once a fortnight. It acts, of course, as a stimulant to the plant, and, as such, care must be taken not to use too much of it; otherwise the flowers would be “ cut off in their bloom.”— Jane KE. Bees on Laurels—My attention has been called to a subject on which I shall be very glad if some reader of our JournaL will give mea little information. I have observed lately great numbers of bees flying round the laurel shrubs, apparently to obtain from them some product or other. On watching their movements, I dis- covered that they invariably resort to three or four small punctures on the under-surface of the leaf, near the base, from which they appear to extract something for their use. What I wish to find out is, what causes these punctures ?—they may be found in every young leaf—and then, what is it which the bees obtain from them? If any one can answer these queries, he will greatly oblige—A Consranr READER. Realisation of the Beauties of Arabian Scenery. —Dr. Layard observes, in his new work, that the glowing descriptions he had so frequently received from the Bedouins of the beauty and fertility of the banks of the Khabour were more than realised. The Arabs boast that its meadows bear three dis- tinct crops of grass during the year. On reaching the Khabour, the travellers pitched their tents on the right bank, near Arban—an artificial mound of irregular shape, from the summit of which “the eye ranged over a level country bright with flowers, and spotted with bright tents, and innumerable flocks of sheep and camels. During our stay at Arban, the color of these great plains was under- going a continual change. After being for some days of a golden yellow, a new family of flowers would spring up, and it would turn, almost in a night, to bright scarlet, which would as suddenly give way to the deepest blue. Then the meadows would be mottled with various hues, or would put on the emerald green of the most luxuriant pas- tures.”—Rosa B. Compulsory Vaccination—By the bill as amended, to extend and make compulsory the practice of vaccination, it is very properly pro- posed to enact that the father or mother of every child born in England or Wales, after the Ist of August, 1853, shall, within three months after birth, cause it to be taken to the medical officer of the place and vaccinated; unless the same shall have been previously vaccinated by some qualified medical practitioner. The Medical Times says—‘ The proportion of deaths from small-pox in London is three times, and in Glasgow six times, what it isin Brussels, Berlin, or Copenhagen. Of each thousand persons who die in England and Wales, twenty-two die of small-pox. Of each thousand persons who die in Ireland, forty-nine die of small-pox; while of each thousand persons who die in Lombardy, two only die of small-pox. The proportionate mortality, then, from small-pox, in Hngland and Wales is eleven times, and in Ireland twenty-four times greater than it is in Lombardy. Whence comes this difference? In England those who please take their children to be vaccinated ; in Lombardy vaccination is compulsory. The pro- portionate mortality from small-pox in England and Wales, is three times greater than what it is in any country in which the inhabitants are com- pelled, by law, to have their children vaccinated. These are great facts. In our metropolis, one thousand persons die annually of small-pox; if vaccination were compulsory, it is indisputable that the number of deaths from this disease, in London, would be reduced to two or three hundred per annum. rom six to eight hundred persons thus die yearly in the metropolis alone, whose lives might be saved by an Act of the Legislature. That a Vaccination Extension Bill should be before Parliament ; that all should be agreed on the propriety of legislating anew on this impor- tant subject, is then, considered in the abstract, matter for rejoicing.” —Rosert M. Are Cochin-China Hens good Mothers ?—It has been the fashion to run down the natural instinct of these good-tempered, affectionate animals ; and a report has gone abroad, that they desert their offspring when they are a week old, &c.! This is pure calumny. I have a hen, sir, that hatched eleven chickens, more than three months ago. ‘These chickens are now fine, noble 122 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. creatures; and to this very day their mother tries to brood them. She never once deserted them, although she has now laid an egg daily for many weeks ; and she is a living example that nature is not so unnatural as some people try to make out. To see this hen, and her over-grown children, crowding together on one perch, is a curiosity.— W.J., Camden Town. A Word fitly Spoken.—You did quite right, my dear sir, to give your readers a hint that they ought to try and increase the circulation of Our Journat. It is not correct that it should be borrowed and lent out from family to family. For my own part, I converse with you so naturally and so delightfully once a month, that although I have not yet had the pleasure of seeing you, I feel we are quite ‘one.’ We seem to be old, familiar friends; and why should it not be so? Ovr JouRNAL was established for this very purpose.* This induces me on principle,—to say nothing of interest, to exert myself for the good cause. I am canvassing bravely among my friends, and hope that so good an example will be cheerfully followed by your other legion of friends. I can see no reason—can you ?—why you should not have ten thousand subscribers.—JoHn GARLAND, Dor- chester. [No indeed! ‘The more the merrier,” is an adage we are ‘‘naturally” anxious to keep up. Itis this borrowing and lending system that does all the injury. A kind young lady residing in Lancaster, writes us, that all the world in those parts ‘‘are in love with Our Journau.” She adds, ““we are ten in family; and when our copy is thoroughly read (we read every line of it), we send it round during the month ¢o at least a dozen other families. So that you really ARE appreciated.” Have our readers ever heard of a “mistaken kindness?” Surely this is one! We cannot understand the extreme meanness of people who are in good circumstances. They seem to enjoy everything with a rich gusto, that costs them nothing! Fie, upon such a principle of action! We blush—yes, we blush to know that any person who “ loves Our JournAL”’ can be possessed of so paltry a spirit. We trust that such people will never publicly acknowledge that they are of the “ happy family ” about whom we so frequently speak. Oh,—no! But let us thank you, sir (which we do most heartily), for the honest expression of feeling that marks the materiel of which you are made. For such readers, we could write on for ever. We have your heart. Ere long (we hope) you shall have our hand. Nous verrons.| A Word in favor of the much-abused Race of Cats.—I really must bring under the notice of your readers (and more particularly under the notice of your truly amiable correspondent Puss), * By the way, on looking over our Note-Book the other day, we found a number of little com- plimentary remarks touching Our JourNAL, cut, at different times, from the public papers. An idea suggested itself, that we should print them. They will be found in our Advertising Columns. They say far more for us than we dare say for ourself.— Eb. K. J. a certain article which appears in No. 638 of the ‘‘Tllustrated London News.” It is headed “A Chapter on Cats.” I know not who the author is, but the paper is most charmingly written. It is also so truthful—so naturally truthful, throughout, that it really must be read by all who love animals for their amiability. I know you are no friend to cats (indeed you have given us good reasons for your particular antipathy), but still I know you are not hard-hearted, and that you are ever ready to give praise where praise is due. Can you—and if so, will you print this article in our JourNAL? Such a gem surely ought to be “ set” in your pages. My own experience so fully verifies all the pretty facts that are adduced, that I feel the more anxious to see them brought prominently forward. The cat isa very ill-used animal—little understood, but capable of great affection. A. B. R. (the writer of the article I allude to) is surely “one of us.” May we live to see many more such papers from so graceful a hand !—Bomsyx Atuas, Tottenham, August 18. [Our good friend’s wish has been anticipated in a former page. We have not thought it just to appropriate all the article that he alludes ‘to ; but we have made a few excerpts from it, adding a little commentary of our own. A. B. R., if of the genus homo, is a “trump,” If A. B. BR. be a woman, she is an angel. There are few angels amongst us ; let us prize them highly—and “‘ when found, make a note of!’”] A Hint about Standard Rose Trees.—I offer to the lovers of standard roses a little plan of my own—it has succeeded admirably. An artificial prop to standard roses is unsightly, and it is both exposed to decay in the run of time, and to dis- asters from the raging of the wintry blast. In order to do without this prop, plant three standard roses (the longer the stem the better) in an equi- lateral triangle. Ifon a slope, one leg must be longer than the other two. They may be from eight to fourteen inches apart. Bring the stems together at the top, and bore a hole through each of them, a little below where they have been budded. Then, through these holes, thread a copper wire, such as is used for soda-water bottles, and bring the heads of the three plants quite close together, making the ends of the wire fast. This is all. You have here a group so firm and strong, that it can never break down, or ever require an artificial support. I made four groups last autumn. They are now in fine blow, and are much admired.—Cuar.es Waterton, Walton Hall, Aug. 4. Benefits from Sprinkling Plants with Water.— T am very anxious to have the opinions and ex- perience of the readers of our Journan on this subject. I have always been accustomed to sprinkle the floor of my greenhouse, and the foliage of my plants with water, under the idea that they were greatly benefited by the operation ; and I cannot help fancying that I have seen good result from the practice. But I have been told lately, that I am mistaken; that plants do not absorb water by their leaves, in any quantitity at least; and that, moreover, when the external air is colder than the atmosphere of the house, the vapors produced will rise to the glass, and there KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 123 be condensed, not benefiting the plants at all. I should like to know what more experienced readers think of the matter.—KH. H. C. First and Last Love :— “First love” is a pretty romance, Though not quite so lasting as reckoned ; For when one awakes from its trance, There’s a great stock of bliss in a “‘ second.” And e’en should the ‘ second ” subside, A lover should never despair ; For the world is uncommonly wide, And the women uncommonly fair. Those poets their rapture may tell, Who never were put to the test: A “first love” is all very well, But, believe me, the “‘ last” love's the best! J. B. [A wag, residing at Liverpool, has sent us the above, requesting to have our opinion of the senti- ment. How shall we give it, so as to steer clear of offence? Let us observe that the human heart is very capacious—so then, let every one of our loves (we will not say how many) be carefully packed up in that heart, and lovingly tended, There is no ‘‘ matrimonial question”’ raised ; there- fore we speak out “like a man!’’ When we walk in a garden filled with beautiful flowers, whose aroma almost overpowers our senses with delight, how can we dare to give any decided preference ? We love them all best—of course !] “ Smoky’ London,’ with a Gleam of “ Hope.” — Your metropolitan readers, and those in the country also, who have any sympathy with us in the privation of light and pure air (which in this city of smoke we are called to endure), will be glad to hear that the House of Commons has passed a bill which provides that, on and after the ist of August, 1854, all manufactories, and also all the steamers on the river, from London Bridge to Richmond, shall consume their own smoke. “The smoke-protectionists, however,’ the Times tells us, “are looking very black; they have a vested interest in compelling us to consume their smoke. It is true they do not like smoke them- selves; the brewer, whose lofty chimney is a volcano always in astate of eruption, lives twenty miles out of town, where his moss-roses are not cankered, and where his gardener gets the prize for the best basket of pansies at the neighboring flower-show. Once a week he gets on the rail, and comes up to town just to see how the chimney draws, and how the till fills; and then runs off, thanking his stars that he lives where he cannot smell his own grains or swallow his own smoke.” But in spite of “vested interests,” the nuisance is doomed: twelve months more, and it will be in a great measure annihilated.—R. M. Unqualified Medical Practitioners —From a table which has been compiled, in the Medical Times and Gazette, comparing the number of practitioners in medicine, according to the census of 1841, with the number of qualified practitioners in the Medical Dictionaries of 1851—it would ap- pear that the former amounted to 33,339 persons, the latter to 11,808, leaving 21,531 persons prac- tising In one or more departments of medicine, without due qualification. Tn England, according to the census, there was thus a practitioner to every 543 of the population ; in Wales, 1 to 822 ; in London, 1 in every 272; in Scotland, 1 in 593; and in the British Isles, 1 in 510; while, taking the numbers in the Medical Directory, the proportion of qualified men to population was, in England, 1 in 1527; in Wales, 1 in 2893; in London, 1 in 714; in Scotland, 1 in 1614; and in the British Isles, 1 in 2215. The following observations are abridged from an article in the same periodical on this important subject :—In the table are included ‘ Chemists and Druggists,” and there is sufficient reason on the face of it for so doing. It appears that, deducting the chemists and druggists from the grand total, it would leave 22,495 persons prac- tising medicine according to the census, or 10,687 more than appear in the Medical Directories. Thus there is 1 chemist and druggist in Great Britain to every 2 medical practitioners. This warrants the assumption that ‘chemists and druggists’ are themselves practitioners to a great extent. Indeed, the experience at assizes and before coroners’ juries, where detection and conviction are the exceptions, sufficiently attests the fact. We therefore include them in the ross total. “ Keepers of lunatic asylums ”’ have een omitted, though a large number of them would legitimately appear. It is worthy of ob- servation that, under the head of ‘‘ keepers of lunatic asylums,” 216 of them are females, and many of these under 20 years of age. In Bir- mingham, there was 1 ‘‘herbalist’”’ under 20 years of age; 2 “keepers of lunatic asylums ”’ under 20; 14 female leach-bleeders ; and 1 female physician. One female “dentist” in Taunton; 1 “physician” in Norwich under 20; 2 “‘ medi- cine vendors” in the Tower Hamlets under 20 ; 1 “midwife”? in Preston under 20; 1 “ phy- sician”’ in Canterbury under 20; 2 “ physicians” in Bristol under 20; 1 female “chemist and druggist” in Colchester under 20 ; 1 “ physician”’ in Darlington under 20; and 1 female ‘ surgeon”’ in Cornwall under 20.—Is not this, Mr. Editor, a very curious table? We find no fewer than 216 females (under 20 years of age) keeping “lunatic asylums;”’ one chemist and druggist to every two medical practitioners!! The “ bills of mortality’ are heavy. Is it to be wondered at !—Amicus. L“ Where ignorance is bliss,” &c. We must not, my dear Sir, inquire ¢oo closely into matters of every-day life. If we did, we should (four-fifths of us) die from fright !] Boring Shells.—Several shells have the sin- gular capability of boring the softer rocks of marble, and limestone, and reefs of coral—for the purpose, it would seem, of eluding their natural enemies. This habit is remarkable in some species of mussels, such as the Mytilus lithophagus and the M. rugosus.—W. The Tree Mignonette—This may be readily produced. Place a young plant in a pot, with a stick from 16 to 20 inches long to tie it to. Con- tinue to strip off the lower branches as it grows, until you get a stem of the required length. It may be kept through the winter in the window of 124 a moderately-warm parlor. The seeds should be picked off as soon as they are formed.—HeEanrts- EASE, Hants. Remedy for Sprains.—Accidents of this sort are not unfrequent; and perhaps none are more liable to them than the laboring class of people. They happen most generally in the joints of either the upper or lower limbs, accompanied with much pain and swelling, and inability to use the limb. The remedy is simple, and within the reach of every one. Cloths, wet freely in a strong and cold solution of salt and water, applied and persevered in, generally effect a speedy cure. If necessary to make a shift, and the part is very painful, apply the leaves of garden wormwood, wet in spirits. Should the part injured remain weak, as it some- times does in severe sprains, a safe remedy is to pump or pour on cold water freely for a few mornings.— ANGELINA. The Weeping Cypress.—I have a plant of this celebrated Chinese tree in my garden, which is growing very vigorously. It is now about 2 feet high, but as yet shows no disposition to weep—a circumstance with which I am a little disap- pointed. Can any reader inform me whether it has been found to assume the weeping form in any garden in this country ?—H, H. C. Prolific Swarming of Bees.—I have lately noticed in the newspapers some account of an ex- traordinary hive of bees in the possession of R. Turner, of Fell House, near Whitton Gilbert, “‘ which cast four times in fifteen days.”’ I am most happy to inform you that not one of my hives has performed such an extraordinary feat. I have no desire for such an increase in my hives; on the contrary, | try my utmost to prevent my bees from swarming at all, and have so far succeeded as not to get on an average more than ONE swarm from eight stocks of bees. The most prominent feature in my Temple Hive isthe convenience for giving the bees access to four glass surplus hives ; thus enlarging the hive to double its size. These glass hives may be removed as they are filled, and replaced by empty ones. Thus, by enlarging the parent hive, I prevent the necessity of swarm- ing. It was on this same principle that I have taken seventy-four pounds of pure honey from one stock in the same season, leaving the parent hive well stored with honey for winter consumption ; and it is to this humane system of bee-culture that I invite the attention of all lovers and admirers of that truly interesting and valuable insect, the honey-bee.—W. J. Pertirr, Dover. Surprising ‘‘ Effects” of the Heat in America. —l have heard you say, Mr. Editor, that your mental workshopisat the extreme top of alofty house, in a private street. No doubt the sun, just now, ‘streaming through your window, dries up, your brain. Should then your forthcoming JournaL not be so bright as usual, we can readily excuse you; and to help you out, I send you the follow- ing, “cut and dried.” It is copied from an American paper, just received.— Gentle readers! As you sprawl on your sofa this pleasant forenoon, or make an inverted Z of yourself by propping your chair-back against the wall, you probably KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. think it must be ‘easy’ to read. Did you ever plough, hoe corn, or plant cabbages? We have been engaged in all these rural exercises ; and we have also swung the scythe and cradle under the sun of the hot south ; and we solemnly declare that the physical labors aforesaid are mere recreations, in comparison with the exhausting toil of writing for the press, in a close office with a south-western aspect, when the thermometer is in the neighbor- hood of the nineties. The vigorous ideas that should find their way by electric telegraph from the brain to the pen, liquify cn the road, and ooze out in big globules of perspiration ; while the more delicate fancies evaporate by the ‘insensible’ process. Excuse, therefore, the shortcomings of genius under the sudorific influence of the summer solstice ; for be assured that the vertical sun, however it may dulcify and mature cherries, plums, and other fruitful ‘plumpitudes,’ is by no means favorable to the development of intel- lectual products.”—I will not say the above is elegant, but it is “pithy.”"—Wurrtieie. [We are as thoroughly fried as our brother Editor, good Mr. Whirligig; but we defy any amount of heat to keep us from our work. Nothing but a special “invite” to superintend a pic-nic party could do that; unless indeed it were a snug little projected water-party, to certain meadows we wot of near Hampton Court. Such a temp- tation might peril the interests of the JournaL for a single day—more especially if the gentle freight, borne by that gliding skiff, were of our own selecting.] Oh, Tempora! Oh, Mores !—Did you ever see VENUS in petticoats, my dear Sir; or the Greek Slave tucked up in flounces—wearing our national dorsal excrescence as a ‘support ’’’—under her sufferings? If not, “go over in two ships” to New York, and visit the “Great Exhibition ” there. An appeai has been made to the autho- rities, by the delicate inhabitants of the city, to clothe in suitable apparel all the nude figures that have entered the building. This, they say, is needful, lest the morals of the people should be defiled, and the rising youth “‘ get used’’ to see Nature in her own dress. Every leg is to be covered, every neck to be cased, every body to be swaddled. No arms are to be exposed. So averse are the good citizens to nakedness in every form, that the bare-headed busts (the originals having had no hair) are to wear hats; and the words ‘naked fact’ (used fifteen times in the printed Catalogue) are to be expunged forthwith. Jam going over on purpose to see this funny sight. Will you go with me ?—Watrter, Cambridge. [Watrer! you must not go. We will give you a “retainer ” of 100 guineas to remain where you are. We cannot do without you. That's a fact !] Thermometers.—Can you tell me the rule ob- served for the comparison of the three thermo- meters? If so, will you oblige me by so doing ?— James H. [To reduce degrees Centigrade above zero to degrees Fahr., multiply by 1.8, and add 32. To reduce degrees Cent. below zero to degrees Fahr., | multiply by 1.8 and subtract from 32. ‘To reduce degrees Reaumur above zero to degrees Fahr. ee KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. multiply by 2.25, andadd 32. To reduce degrees Reaumur below zero to degrees Fahr., multiply by 2.25, and subtract from 32.] The Value of Observation.—Many people are too apt to take things upon trust. By so doing, they often commit serious error, and do a positive injury to science. For instance, it was objected (says Archbishop Whately) to the System of Co- pernicus (when first brought forward), that if the earth turned on its axis, as he represented, a stone dropped from the summit of a tower would not fall at the foot of it, but a great distance to the west—in the same manner as a stone dropped from the masthead of a ship in full sail does not fall at the foot of the mast, but at the stern ofthe ship. To this it was answered, that a stone, being part of the earth, obeys the same laws, and moves with it; whereas it is no part of the ship, of which, consequently, its motion is independent. The solution was ad- mitted by some and opposed by others; and the controversy went on with spirit. Nor was it till one hundred years after the death of Co- pernicus, that the experiment being tried, it was ascertained that the stone thus dropped from the head of the mast does fall at the foot of it. How requisite it is, my dear Sir, for everything to be fully proved before it be put forth as fact! —Heten W. [Your observation is very just. We are daily discovering that many things recorded as facts (particularly in natural history) were merely surmises. Later experiments have fully proved this. ] How to obtain perfect Impressions from the Leaves of Trees and Plants.—Allow me, my dear Sir, to present the following recipe to the notice of the readers of our Journau. It is not, I believe, new, but possibly will be so to many; and it may be the means of affording them a little pleasant and instructive occupation for their leisure hours:—Take a small quantity of bichromate of potash (say a teaspoonful), which may be had at any druggist’s or colorman’s shop; dissolve it in a saucerful of water. Then pass the pieces of paper, on which the impressions are to be taken, through the solution; and, while wet, press the leaves, &c., lightly upon it, and expose it to the sun—which should be shining powerfully. When quite dry, remove the leaves, and a perfect fac-simile will remain in a light lemon shade, while the rest of the paper will be of a dark brown tint. Bichrome, as it is gene- rally termed, is in dark yellow crystals. It should be powdered previous to using it.—J. R. The “ Life” im an Oyster.—The liquor of the oyster contains incredible multitudes of small embryo, covered with little shells, perfectly trans- parent, swimming nimbly about. One hundred and twenty of these in a row, would, it is calcu- lated, extend one inch. Besides these young oysters, the liquor contains a great variety of animalculee, five hundred times less in size, which emit a phosphoric light. Nor does the list of inhabitants conclude here ; for besides these last mentioned, there are three distinct species of worms, called the oyster worm, half-an-inch long, 125 found in oysters, which shine in the dark like glow-worms. The sea-star, cockles, and mussels, are the great enemies of the oyster. The first gets within the shell when they gape, and sucks them out. While the tide is flowing, oysters he with the hollow side downwards ; but when it ebbs they turn on the other side.—Viotxet, Worcester. Germination of Old Seeds ——Humboldt states that an aqueous solution of chlorine possesses the property of stimulating or favoring germination. Its action is so decided as to be apparent on old seeds, which will not germinate under ordinary circumstances.—R. O. Strange Fish—In the Mediterranean, Chin- nereth, and Semechomitis, as also in the Jordan, are found many kinds of fish, which are neverthe- less essentially different from the European ones. Some are found which weigh thirty pounds. In the sea near Jaffa, there is found at times a species of fish which emits a phosphorescent light in the dark, not unlike rotten wood. This peculiar pro- perty of the fish is only destroyed when it is put over the fire, or immersed in hot water. There is found likewise, in the sea Chinnereth, a very fat fish, called Al Barbud. It has no scales; therefore it is not eaten by the Jews. There are two kinds of fish known as Shebuta, Al Sabuta; one of these is as large as a hog, and is very fat and well-flavored. Itis not met with in Palestine, and is only caught in the Indian seas; especially near Fiume. It is known among the Italians as Tanina. The other is a smaller species, has tender flesh, and is salted before being eaten — Herartsease, Hants. Lifects produced by an Earthquake in the Tropics.—The impression which the first earth- quake makes upon us, even if it is unaccompanied by subterranean noise, is an inexpressibly powerful and quite peculiar one. What moves us so power- fully is the disappointment of our inherent faith in the repose and immutability of the firm solid earth. A moment destroys the illusions of a life. We are undeceived as to the repose of the earth, and feel transported within the sphere of destroying unknown powers. We scarcely trust the ground on which we stand ; the strangeness of the occur- rence produces the same anxious uneasiness in animals. Pigs and dogs, especially, are over- powered by it; the crocodiles of the Orinoco, (Humboldt tells us) generally as dumb as sour little lizards, leave the agitated bed of the river, and rush howling into the forests. To man an earth- quake appears as something omnipresent, un- bounded. We can escape from an active eruption, or from a lavastream flowing towards our dwelling; but during an earthquake,wherever one flies seems the hearth of destruction—Hrten W . Degeneration of the Races of Fruits and Flowers.—The wearing out of certain varieties of fruits and florists’ flowers seems a subject well worthy of further investigation. It might be useful to bring to notice the genera, or the species of plants, most subject to such decay, and thus direct attention principally to the obtaining of new seminal varieties of the species most requiring renewal of good sorts. The apple seems particularly 126 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. liable to wear out. There are many kitchen apples formerly common, that are now rare—the codlin, for instance, some years ago the cheapest apple, and the most esteemed summer one for puddings and tarts. The codlin was formerly a most abundant and certain bearer, its fruit ex- cellent at different stages of its growth. Gathered young, it was used as green apricots now are; and by thinning the crop, the remaining fruit swelled to a large size. It was thought indispensable for dumplings, and for “‘ codlins and cream ;” no other variety of apple having the same agreeable acidity and flavor. To the codlin succeeded the Lemon Pippin; also now wearing out, and for winter use the russeting, at present scarce and a bad bearer. These three fruits used to be common in cottage gardens, some trees of them still remain in such a garden near Canterbury ; but they have ceased to bear abundantly there as elsewhere. ‘The recent acquisition of valuable varieties of pears may have caused neglect of old sorts, many of them inferior to the new ones; yet some of the old varieties were excellent—the bergamot, for instance, formerly abundant and cheap, but rarely brought to market now. The jargonelle still keeps its ground, though always a dear fruit. About sixty years ago, a fruiterer in Bridge Street pur- chased choice specimens of the jargonelle, at six shillings a dozen; when, at the same time, the finest Windsor pears were sold for four shillings a bushel. Probably varieties of stone fruits are moré durable than those of pears and apples, for some of the peaches and nectarines recommended in an early edition of ‘‘ Miller’s Dictionary” con- tinue in successful cultivation. The old Morello cherry still flourishes as formerly—so does the May Duke. Some varieties of cherries are, how- ever, disappearing ; a very rich large black cherry, for example, though formerly common, is now rarely seen ; and in Kent, it is said that the old Kentish cherry is becoming a shy bearer.—B. Voice of the Tench.—The tenacity of life in some fresh water fish is surprising. In none is it more surprising than in the Tench. Dr. Shirley Palmer records the fact, of his having received in the spring a brace of Tench, just taken from the water. They were deposited, by the cook, ina dish, and placed upon a very high shelf in the larder—a room situated between the dining parlor and cooking kitchen. On the following midnight, whilst writing in the dining room, to which he had removed in consequence of the extinction of the fire in the library, his attention was suddenly ex- cited by a deep, hollow, protracted groan, such as might be supposed to proceed from a. large animal in extreme distress. It was twice or thrice re- peated; and all his efforts to discover the source of the alarming sound were ineffectual. At length his ear was startled by a loud splash, succeeded by a groan more deep and long-continued than those which he had previously heard, and evidently proceeding from the larder. Inspection of that room quickly explained the mystery. One of the fishes had sprung down from the shelf, on the stone floor, and there lay, with mouth open, and pectoral and vestral fins extended, and uttering the sounds by which his midnight labors had been so unex- pectedly interrupted. Next day, both fishes were cooked for dinner; and, such ig the tenacity of life in the tench, that, although thirty hours had then elapsed since their removal from their native ele= ment, both fishes, after having undergone the pro- cess of scaling and evisceration, sprang vigorously from the pot of hot water when consigned to it by the cook.—Puss. [Carp and Tench, if packed in wet grass, will travel safely from one end of England to the other —and they will recover their wonted liveliness on being placed in a tank of water.] } Affection of Fishes.—It has been asserted by some naturalists, that no fishes are known to take any care of their offspring. This statement, how- ever, is erroneous; for two species of Hassar found in Africa, make a regular nest, in which they lay their eggs in a flattened cluster, and cover them over most carefully. Their care does not end here ; they remain by the nest till the spawn is hatched, with as much solicitude as a hen guards her eggs ; both the male and female steadily watching the spawn, and courageously attacking any assailant. Hence the negroes frequently take them by putting their hands into the water, close to the nest; on agitating which, the male hassar springs furiously at them and is thus captured:—Rosa B. [If you will turn, Rosa, to Vol. II. of our JouRNAL, p. 390, you will there find a most graphic account given of the affection of the Tirtnmpar for its young. The article will amply repay a perusal. The facts are quite startling] Culture of the Chinese Primrose.—I generally sow my seeds about this time, or a little earlier. [ use shallow pans, light sandy soil, and no manure. They are sown thinly, and pressed down on the surface, so as just to be covered with the soil. After a gentle watering, the pans containing the seed are removed to a hot-bed ; there they remain until the young plants are about an inch in height. At this stage they are pricked out into the same sort of pans, an inch apart; adding this time one- third leaf-mould to the soil. The plants are put into the hotbed again, until they have attained the height of two inches ; when they are taken out of the pans, and shifted into five-inch pots that have been well drained. The compost for this and their final shift, consists of equal quantities of cow-dung two years old, leaf-mould, peat earth, and sandy soil. After potting, the plants are removed into a cold frame, with an eastern aspect. The lights are kept close for afew days, and the plants are shaded from the midday sun until they commence growing. Air is then admitted; gradually at first, but ag soon as I perceive the plants to be fairly in a pushing state, I ventilate freely. The sashes are, however, always put on whenitrains ; for nothing is 80 injurious to Primulas as water overhead, at any stage of their growth. As they begin to fill their pots with roots, I give them liquid manure once a week, made from pigeons’ dung. I permit the first flower stem to rise, but only for the purpose of judging of the merits of the flower. As soon as that is decided, the good flowers are picked out; and when the pots are filled with roots, the plants are finally shifted into eight or twelve-inch pots, and treated in precisely the same way as at the former shifting, and with the same situation and aspect. ‘They remain in the cold frame until the middle of October. After that, they are brought KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 127 into their winter quarters, to flower in the green- | the sense of smell; then that of hearing; and house. As soon as the plants have stopped grow- ing, I withhold the dung-water, as a continuance of it would be likely to destroy them in the winter months.—J. H. Production of Oxygen Gas.—M. Boussingault has lately described a process by which pure oxygen gas may be obtained from the atmosphere at a trifling cost, so as to enable it to be collected in unlimited quantities and preserved in gasome- ters, like coal-gas, for application to many practical uses in the arts. This process depends upon a peculiar property possessed by the earth barytes, of absorbing the atmospheric oxygen at one tem- perature and evolving it at another; or, rather, the ready conversion of hydrate of barytes into peroxide of barium by a current of atmospheric air at a dull red heat; and the decomposition of the peroxide, by steam, at a lower temperature, even at 212° F., with re-formation of the hydrate of barytes—the process being in reality a con- tinuous one. It is found in practice, advisable to mix the barytes with hydrate of lime or mag- nesia; so as to prevent the fusing of the first. This mixture, when placed in an earthern tube heated to dull redness, is to be oxidised by passing a current of dry atmospheric air over it. So soon as the oxidation is completed, the tube is connected with the gas-holder, and a jet of steam allowed to act upon it. This re-converts the peroxide of barium into hydrate of barytes, the excess of oxygen being given off and collected in the gas-holder. The barytes is then again oxidised by a fresh current of air, and deoxidised by steam as frequently as required ; thus making the process continuous. M. Boussingault consi- ders that about 1000 cubic feet of pure oxygen gas could be obtained every twenty-four hours by the use of 10 ewts. of barytes,—which will answer for any length of time —Lynx. The White, or Barn Owl.—This bird is the victim of all who, ignorant of its value, can get a shot at it. ‘Asa constant destroyer of rats and mice,” says a writer on British birds, ‘‘the ser- vices performed by them for the agriculturist ought to obtain for them the toleration which they well deserve.” The number of mice this bird must destroy is very great, as a vigilant observer has seen him return to his nest witb his prey every five minutes. The gardener complains of the destruction of his early crops of peas by mice ; but he feels no hesitation or remorse at having a shot at the bird who would be of essential service to him in preserving his produce from these de- predators! Other useful birds are destroyed in hke manner; and the consequence is (of course) destruction to all sorts of produce by vermin,— lnsects, grubs, &c.—ARaus. Curious Facts attending Sleep.—Sleep does not come onall at once, it would seem ; but by degrees. M. Carbinis, the French physiologist, tells us that the legs and arms fail, before the powers which support the head; and these last sooner than the muscles which sustain the back. He illustrates this by the cases of persons who sleep on horseback. He conceives that the sense of sight sleeps first; then the sense of taste ; next finally that of touch—Jamus C. A. Gigantic Cedar.—There exists in California, says the Hecho of the Pacific, on one of the moun- tains of the country of Calaveras, a Cedar said to be the largest tree in the world. A correspondent of the Herald of Sonora, who has paid a visit to the spot for the purpose of examining this prodigy of the vegetable kingdom, describes it as follows :— “At the level of the earth its circumference is 92 feet—4 feet up, it is 88 feet—at 14 feet, it is 61— and thence it gradually tapers. Its height is 285 feet; and it has none of that deformity which commonly characterises trees with enormous trunks. From one end to the other, it is a model of symmetry. The age of this giant Cedar, counted by its zones, is 2520 years” (!) This king of the forests of the world has just had its bark—which at the base is nearly 14 inches in thickness— stripped away to a height of 50 feet, for the pur- pose of being sent to the Great Exhibition in New York, where, we understand, it now is.—J. B. The Swallow and the Sparrows—a Curious Circumstance.—I find the following in the “ Here- ford Journal:’—Under the eaves of a house in St. Owen’s Street, in this city, a swallow’s nest of last year, in which a young family had been reared, remained for occupation (probably by the same birds) on their return to this country from their continental winter sojourn. During their temporary absence, the nest was taken possession of, and inhabited by some house-sparrows, who, from their loud chirrupings, seem to have found it very snug quarters. The swallows, wishing to regain possession, had several skirmishes with the intruders, one of whom appeared always to remain at home to offer resistance from the interior; but they were unable to dislodge them until one day last week, when it was observed that a swallow pertinaciously attached itself to the outside of the nest. Here it was seen late at night, evidently keeping watch on the sparrow prisoner. The next morning, however, the sparrow had deserted his post; but from the entrance to the nest the dead Sparrow was suspended by one of its feet, which was firmly cemented to the outside of the nest, and where it still remains as an admonitory warning to all other burglarious sparrows.—Is not this a very remarkable circumstance, Mr. Editor ? —JanE D. [It reads well, Mademoiselle. Jf it be true, it as interesting. We fear, however, there is a trifle “too much color in the brush.” We want pure matters of “ fact.’’] A Curious Discovery of Roman Coins.—A Bavarian naturalist, Dr. Autenrieth, travelling in New Grenada, has, it is said, while excavating in the neighborhood of Panama, disinterred a terra- cotta vase, containing 364 Roman coins in bronze. They belong to the third and fourth centuries, and bear the effigies of the Emperors Maximilian, Dio- cletian, and Constantine the First. As there is no existing evidence of communication between the ancient Romans and Southern America, it is supposed, says a Munich journal, that these coins may have been buried by some Spanish numis- matist or archeologist who inhabited the ancient 128 city of Panama when it was sacked, in 1670, by the Irish buccaneer, Morgan. In any case, it is averred that these are the first coins of the Roman Empire ever found in the soil of America.—R. O. The Evergreen Oak as & Sea-side Plant.— During a recent visit to Guernsey, I had an oppor- tunity of witnessing the valne of the evergreen Oak as a shelter plant for the sea-side. In the vicinity of-a deep bay, subject to the.most violent gales, and of course to the action of the salt spray, I saw hundreds of them in a most flourishing con- dition. I learnt, as was the case on the occasion of which I speak, that during the winter their foliage becomes in some degree browned by the combined action of the severe winds and drench- ings of salt spray to which they are subjected; but that this is every season repaired, and that in the summer they become as green and luxuriant as ever. That they grow luxuriantly I had abun- dant evidence. Their appearance was healthy to a degree, scarcely to be expected in evergreens in so bleak a situation. They exhibited none of the one-sidedness so peculiar to most trees—the Eng- lish Oak, for example, when grown in similar situations—on the contrary, they appear quite at home on the bleak hill side. As an evergreen tree in similar situations, nothing that I know of can surpass it for shelter or forornament. As this tree is proverbially a difficult one to transplant successfully, a hint or two gleaned on the spot may not be inappropriately recorded here ; if, indeed, what I have to convey may be considered as hints in addition to what is already known. I was in- formed by the proprietor of the property on which the trees in question were growing, that the loss ofa tree by transplanting was a contingency hardly ever experienced. ‘‘ We move them now,” he observed—this was in the early part of March— “andin July. If in the latter season, we shorten the branches very much ; were we to leave all the foliage on, success would be doubtful.’ The phi- losophy of the practice is evident enough. ‘¢ And,” continued he, ‘‘ we move them with perfect safety, however large. You observe the tree before us ”’ —this was in allusion to one with a trunk of some five or six inches in diameter—“ that fellow was moved in the summer three years ago. You can hardly believe it, can you? but it is nevertheless true. Believe me we move them as if they were willows.” And so it appeared. I examined the tree in question. It had been severely pruned back at no very remote period, which was of course, at the time of its removal ; and I do not think that I exaggerate when I say that in the three seasons’ growth a good six feet of wood had been made. Associated with these oaks were many stone pines, well sustaining their character. Like the evergreen oaks, their foliage was brown when fully exposed to the sea-breezes. One or two Scotch firs, that by some means or other had become mixed up with the assembly, looked as if they were astonished at finding them- selves in such situations. The shelter of their neighbors did them good service, or they had figured but indifferently. I may observe, by the way, that the practice of cutting back the branches of large trees, appears to me to offer the means of securing their safe removal, when otherwise failure must, as a general rule, result. There may appear KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. EE ene Te OLE SAS FON UN Mote AEE he something anomalous in the practice, on a casual investigation of the system, but we all know what vigorous shoots are pushed from a healthy stem denuded of its branches. Repton recommended the practice, and alludesto its being successfully carried out by afriend of his in Norfolk; I quote his words :—‘‘ He” (the friend alluded to) “ placed deciduous trees of every kind, but especially Birch intermixed with Thorns, Crabs, and old Hollies, cutting off their heads; these are planted ina puddle and the earth laid round their roots in small hillocks, which prevent the cattle from standing very near them; and thus I have seen groups of trees which looked like bare poles the first year, in a very short time become beautiful ornaments to a dreary waste.” And of course such might be made to ornament other situations than dreary wastes; and to my taste a bare pole for one year, with the certainty of its becoming a handsome tree afterwards, and year by year in- creasing in stature and beauty, is preferable to enduring a dead-alive tree for half-a-dozen years ; and which ultimately dies altogether.—Crayon. Deilephila Elpenor.—I have at the present time, feeding in my room, some remarkably fine caterpillars of this beautiful Sphinx. I believe it is much thought of in this country. Is it not? I remember, when on the Continent, I used to hold Sphinx Elpenor in high esteem.—Bomsyx Atias, Tottenham, August 22. Spiders casting their Skins.—J am (like your- self, my dear Mr. Editor), a great admirer of Nature’s handiwork. The following, copied from my book of observations, may prove interesting : ‘““T watched this said spider when about to dis- engage itself from its skin. It first formed a kind of thick purse, in one corner of the web. It then went to the centre of the web; and distending its body with violence for some minutes, the skin was rent the whole length of the back. This over, it began to force its body slowly through the aper- ture; gradually drawing out its legs, one by one, till they were all released. The exuviee retained the form of the spider only,—being perfectly transparent. The insect, which was quite gela- tinous, and of a pale-green color, now retreated to the thick purse above alluded to. It did not re- appear until after three days.”—Rosa B. “BEGIN WELL,—END WELL.” NEVER WAS THERE A TIME when people went so “fast” as they donow. Our youth seem born with “great ideas;” and woe be to those who attempt to control them in their lofty projects ! Let such read what the good old Quaruzs has noted down for their instruction. He says— ‘‘ At the first entrance into thine estate, keep a low sail. Thou must rise with honor. Thou canst not fall without shame. He that begins as his father ended, shall end as his father began.” Alas! how is this prediction verified from day to day. Foolish parents are they, who thus yield to the caprices of their wayward, wilful children. Full many a heart is broken by its own folly, that might have been happy by the exercise of a little firmness, and only a grain of good sense. KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 129 NOTES UPON NOTES. FASHION—TASTE—HABIT. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears ! To me the meanest flower that blows can give THoucut7s that do often lie too deep for tears. WorDSWORTH. » ERE IT NOT FOR THE REGION OF THOUGHT, in which the mind can revel undisturbed by the ex- ternal hubbub of the world at large, what an existence would ours be! The elements of which society is composed, are quite insufficient, of themselves, to render a man “happy ”—and what is life without happiness? OUR thoughts, be it known, fly far and wide ; and in their wanderings they gather sweetness. We are not going to venture an essay on Thought, much as we could say on that most interesting subject. Our business to-day is, to offer a few remarks on sundry letters we have received of late, bearing upon certain observations our pen has volunteered pro bono publico. And here let us express our- self not only pleased, but delighted, with the confidence almost invariably reposed in us by our numerous correspondents. ‘Their names and addresses are rarely withholden ; and their simple narratives induce to a train of thoughtfulness in our aetive mind which is perfectly indescribable. There is surely much latent good in the world, if one could only draw it out. The great drawback to this is, the fear people express of daring to be singular. They tell us their feelings, and acknowledge their weakness in this matter. The article which appeared in a late number on the perverse taste of women in their mode of dress, and blind obedience to the cruel laws of Fashion—also the paper in our last number deploring the horrid custom of plastering a pretty face with such over- whelming bands of hair, have excited marked attention. Some may imagine that we have given serious offence by our freedom of speech. Not so! We always write good-temperedly, and will not let people be angry with us. We cut at their faults, not at their persons. We hate the former; we love the latter. Among the letters received during the past month, are several which demand serious attention. ‘They are from ladies moving in a high position of life. Our remarks have worked upon the better feelings of their (natural) “good” nature, and they have made us their father-confessor. We are quite satisfied, that not one of the individuals we allude to is im the secret of any but them- selves having written us on the subject. Yet are our “ confessional duties” pleasingly heavy. Vou. IV.—9. Let us select a single missive, and com- ment on it. As it harmonises in its views and feelings with the others already referred to, it will answer a good general end. ‘The fair writer (who resides in one of our most fashionable squares) says—‘I cannot, my dear sir, argue against or disprove one word you have uttered. That you write for our benefit and instruction, I freely admit. That you are entitled to our lasting regard, is speaking but faintly how I feel towards you, and your noble periedical. But let me tell you, that we young ladies cannot, dare not, use any discretion in the matter of taste. Whatsoever be the ‘fashion,’ with that we are bound to comply, or we ‘ lose caste’ (as mamma words it). Whether as regards our general apparel, our bonnets, our head. dress, or what you, call ‘the insult offered to the human face divine,’ by converting our ornamental hair into ‘blinkers,’ &c., &c., our lot is cast. We are the creatures of habit. We must submit to the rules of the society in which we move. Yet, entre nous, I do indeed enjoy the perusal of OUR OWN JOURNAL, I love its principles; and in all sincerity, I may and will add, I love its Editor. Keep on, my dear sir; raise your pen, make your voice heard, and do see if anything can be done to deliver us from the hideous trammels of the god we are com- pelled (many of us wnwillingly) to worship.” We are proud of the missive from which we have made the above short extract ; and we could append others from a second fair hand, but it is quite needless. We never can hope—nor do we, to work a reformation among the veterans in Fashion’s service; but we feel for the younger branches, and we will, D.V., labor for them with unwearied assiduity. We will prove that Nature is a sweet, lovely mistress—her yoke easy—her burthen (gossamer) light indeed ! We have also in possession some very interesting letters in connection with our late remarks about Habit. We mean, the few ad- denda we made in our last to the article by Dr. Symonds. Our readers enter, readily, into the appreciation of those various cha- racteristics which so individualise many of the friends and acquaintance with whom they are associated from time to time. It is a pretty subject; and at a future time we may be in the vein to pursue it in some of its most pleasing features. A very intimate friend of ours, who perused the remarks we have referred to, has told us some of the scenes in hs early life that will infallibly set us thinking of the scenes in our early life, and the ever-to-be- remembered habits of ‘‘some”’ who at that time were dearer far to us than our own existence—indeed we only “ lived”’ when we heard their footstep, breathed when we heard K 130 KIDD'’S OWN JOURNAL. their sweet laugh. We felt spell-bound when we handed their fairest of all fair forms into their little carriage. And oh! that look— oh! those matchless eyes that spoke the unuttered words—Good bye! We distinctly hear the receding wheels of that little car- riage now. But as we are not going to write an article to-day upon the characteristic habits of those we love and esteem; we throw down our pen at once—else should we be constrained to let it utter what we feel it longs to pour forth. “There is a time for all things under the sun.” SEASONABLE TOPICS. GOSSAMER. WE HAVE ON A NUMBER OF occasions directed attention to the fine-spun webs floating in the air, and known as gossamer. At this particular season, early-risers (and we hope every one of OUR country readers rise early) may see them in all their glitter- ing beauty. No money can purchase a sight like this. Nor are these webs to be viewed without a feeling of intense curiosity. We would know whence they come,—how they are formed, and what their object. Minutely, infinitesimally small though they be, let us rest assured that the little spinners are capable of the purest enjoyment; and that the morning air is an element in which they revel with ecstacy. During the lovely mornings of autumn, we note these matters with rapturous feelings of delight. As we have before said, the insect world just now is in all its glory.* * The first grand display of gossamer during the present season, met our eye on the morning of the 24th of August. At 5 a.m, looking from our casement, we noticed a heavy impending mantle of fog. Indeed, the trees in the garden were not visible. This was the signal for us to “up and away.” We well knew what awaited us below. We found, as we anticipated, that the air was full of web; that every tree and shrub was impearled with dew, and loaded with the curiously-constructed domiciles of the geometric spider. If we say there were at the very least two hundred of these habitations, we speak quite within compass. Those who know how we revel in observations of nature, in these her finest and most subtle provisions for the happiness of her children, will not require to be told what a treat we enjoyed—a treat, than which nothing could be more delightful. The ropes, ladders, scaffolding, manceuvres of the builder to secure the unsus- pecting prey, the adyta et penetralia of the family mansion, and other domestic arrangements of these little creatures, fairly fascinated us. We have enjoyed the same sight frequently of late ; and shall continue to do so whilst opportunities offer.—Ep. K. J. At the request of a subscriber who feels much interest in this subject, we insert a letter on the Gossamer, from the pen of Gil- bert White, of Selborne. Mr. White’s observations are indeed worth recording in our columns. The letter was originally addressed to the Honorable Daines Bar- rington :— Dear Sr1r,—On September the 21st, 1741, being then on a visit, and intent on field diver- sions, I rose before daybreak; when I came into the enclosures, I found the stubbles and clover grounds matted all over with a thick coat of cob- web, in the meshes of which a copious and heavy dew hung so plentifully, that the whole face ofthe country seemed, as it were, covered with two or three setting-nets, drawn one over another. When the dogs attempted to hunt, their eyes were so blinded and hoodwinked, that they could not proceed, but were obliged to he down and scrape the encumbrances from their faces with their fore- feet ; so that, finding my sport interrupted, I re- turned home, musing in my mind on the oddness of the occurrence. As the morning advanced, the sun became bright and warm, and the day turned out one of those most lovely ones which no season but the autumn produces—cloudless, calm, serene, and worthy of the south of France itself. About nine, an appearance very unusual began to demand our attention—a shower of cobwebs falling from very elevated regions, and continu- ing, without any interruption, till the close of the day. ‘These webs were not single filmy threads, floating in the air in all directions, but perfect flakes, or rags; some near an inch broad, and five or six long, which fell with a degree of velocity that showed they were considerably heavier than the atmosphere. On every side, as the observer turned his eyes, he might behold a continual succession of fresh flakes falling into his sight, and twinkling like stars, as they turned their sides towards the sun. How far this wonderful shower extended, it would be difficult to say; but we know that it reached Bradley, Selborne, and Alresford, three places which lie in a sort of triangle, the shortest of whose sides is about eight miles in extent. At the second of those places, there was a gentleman (for whose veracity and intelligent turn we have the greatest veneration), who ob- served it the moment he got abroad; but con- cluded that, as soon as he came upon the hill above his house, where he took his morning rides, he should be higher than this meteor, which he imagined might have been blown, like thistle- down, from the common above ; but, to his great: astonishment, when he rode to the most elevated part of the down, three hundred feet above his fielas, he found the webs, in appearance, still as much above him as before; still descending into sight in constant succession, and twinkling in the sun, so as to draw the attention of the most incurious. Neither before nor after, was any such fall ob- served; but on this day the flakes hung in the trees and hedges so thick, that a diligent person sent out might have gathered baskets full. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. The remark that I shall make on these cobweb- like appearances, called gossamer,* is, that strange and superstitious as the notions about them were formerly, nobody in these days doubts that they are the real production of small spiders, which swarm in the fields in fine weather in autumn, and have a power of shooting out webs from their tails, so as to render themselves buoyant and lighter than air. But why these apterous insects should that day take such a wonderful aérial excursion, and why their webs should at once become so gross and material as to be consi- derably more weighty than air, and to descend with precipitation, is a matter beyond my skill, If I might be allowed to hazard a supposition, I should imagine that those filmy threads, when first shot, might be entangled in the rising dew, and so drawn up, spiders and all, by a brisk evaporation, into the regions where clouds are formed ; and if the spiders have a power of coil- * Gossamer has been long noticed both by poets and naturalists. It is now known to be produced by ‘several kinds of spiders, particularly the flying ones. Mr. Murray, who has given much attention to the economy of these insects, says, they have the power of projecting their threads to a considerable distance, and by this means transporting themselves from the ground to any elevation in the atmosphere, or from the apex of one object to another. He is of opmion that the threads of their web are electric, or so influenced by that subtle element, that buoyancy is imparted, and the baseless shrouds of this aérial voyager are, together with their fabricator, raised into the higher regions of the air. Most spiders, when crawling over uneven sur- faces, leave behind them a thread; serving as a cable, or line of suspension, lest they should fall, or be blown from their eminence; so that nearly the whole surface of the ground is covered with the network of these singular animals. Besides the ground spiders, other wanderers contribute to these accumulations, which, however delicate, are at the same time durable. That this tissue is always on the increase, may be noticed by follow- ing a plough for a short space ; for no sooner has it finished one ridge, than the fresh mould turned up is equally interlaced with innumerable threads, which glisten in the sun’s rays, and can only be accounted for by the circumstance mentioned by Mr. Murray—that during fine weather the air is filled with these excursive webs of the aranea aeronautica. ‘The spider is often seen at the end of its thread, with extended limbs; balancing itself like a bird, and invariably floating before | the wind. The same gentleman, however, says, he has seen threads projected in a close room, where there was no current of air to carry them in a direct line, which is an interesting fact. Mr. Murray thinks that electricity, either posi- tive or negative, is an active agent in the move- ment of the spiders’ webs; which opinion has been combated by Mr. Bakewell, who asserts that they have not the power of propelling their webs without assistance from the wind, and that the cobwebs seen floating in the air are raised from the surface of the ground by the action of air, highly rarefied by a cloudless sun.— Kp. K. J. 131 ing and thickening their webs in the air, as Dr. Lister says they have [see his Letters to Mr. Ray], then, when they were become heavier than the air, they must fall. Every day in fine weather, in autumn chiefly, do I see those spiders shooting out their webs and mounting aloft ; they will go off from your finger, if you will take them into your hand. Last summer, one alighted on my book as I was read- ing in the parlor; and running to the top of the page, and shooting out a web, took its departure from thence. But what I most wondered at was, that it went off with considerable velocity in a place where no air was stirring; and I am sure that I did not assist it with my breath. So that these little crawlers seem to have, while mount- ing, some locomotive power without the use of wings, and to move in the air faster than the air itself. Selborne, Tune 8th, 1775. G. W, THE LATEST AMERICAN NOTIONS. THE WIFE OF A LITERARY MAN. ' [FROM OUR OWN CORRESPONDENT. | TrutH, like a single point, escapes the sight, And claims attention to perceive it right. POMFRET. The creatures of Man’s art may catch the eye; But Truru’s sweet nature captivates the soul. CUMBERLAND. A WOMAN, MY DEAR SIR, FIT TO BE THE WIFE OF A LITERARY MAN, must indeed bea woman. She must combine in her character all those pleasing attributes which we often find described, but so rarely meet with in real life. She must be neither selfish in feeling, vain, prodigal, nor passionate. She must be one who will not marry where she cannot respect; one who, when she has consented to lay aside her virgin honors, will love her husband with a devotion that shall waive every other consideration but that of her duty to God. She must be even more than this; she must be self-sacrificing in disposition, and be willing to endure much loneliness ; and also learn, if she have not already learnt; to have a fondness for her husband’s pursuits, in which case she will receive a return that will be dearer far than all the world can offer. A man of literary pursuits sins against himself and the woman he marries, if he takes one who is but a votary of Fashion—whose empire is in the drawing-room, and not in the seclusion of domestic life. And if he marry a literary pedant, he will be still more unfortunate; unless the pedantry be that of a young, active, and inquiring mind, which is pleased with its first essay into the regions of learning. She should not resemble the first wife of Milton, whom the poet married from sudden fancy. Unable to endure his literary habits, and finding his house too solitary for her romping disposition, she beat his nephews, and conveyed herself away at the expiration of the honey-moon! Nor 132 like the wife of Bishop Cooper, who, jealous of his books, consigned the labor of many years to the flames. Nor like the wife of Sir Henry Seville, whose affection was so strong as to cause her to destroy his most valuable manuscripts, because they monopo- lised so much of his attention. Neither should she resemble in charaeter Mrs. Bayr- clay, who made both herself and her husband ridiculous by her great public admi- ration of his abilities—she considering him little less than a demi-god. She should either be like the lady of Dacier, who was his equal in erudition and his superior in taste, but whose good sense caused her to respect and give place to her husband at all times and on all occasions, and whose love for him kept her from the slightest feeling of presumption, because she was his equal in mind—or, as the wite of Wieland, a domestic woman, who, though not much given to study, was of a calm, even temperament, and always soothed instead of excited her husband’s irritable disposition. Above all things, the wife of a literary man must avoid jealousy. Jealousy and suspicion poison the very springs of life. Only give them entrance once, and farewell to happi- ness! All public men must be“ privileged.” Their avocations demand this. They are made the depositories of a host of secrets, emanating from persons whose names, characters, and objects must be revered like Truth—held sacred as Holy Writ. It is impossible to conceive what some- times is imparted to the Editor of a public journal. In him, is vested a power for good or evil which is positively gigantic in its extent. His wife then, as a prudent woman, should yield him implicit confidence, and believe him incapable of doing or saying any- thing prejudicial to her interests or his honor. She should trust him, cheerfully, with anybody, anywhere; and always treat him as the well-beloved object of her heart of hearts. Such a man, if well educated, would never be found tripping; whilst his love for his wife will be boundless as the ocean. ‘Lry this course of action, fair ladies, and tell us if we be not a true prophet. Nature is a good mother! There remains only to be said, that a literary man, in choosing a wife, should not look so much for shining abilities, as for a clear, discriminating judgment, and a warm and affectionate heart. A combination of these qualities, if he be not an unreasonable, cross-grained tyrant, will be sURE to bring DOMESTIC FELICITY. New York, Aug. 1. [The above is from the pen of our Ame- rican Correspondent; and as we cordially agree in sentiment with the worthy writer, all we shall add to it is—‘‘ PRoBATUM EST!” | UMpRA. ee KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. THE WORLD AND ITS INHABITANTS. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. Gov made the world, good in his sight ; He bless’d it when he gave it light— But sin has cast a mournfal gloom E’en from the cradle to the tomb, Diffusing with its poison’d breath— Want, misery, disease, and death ! But there are many scenes in life Unsullied by the hand of strife ; Free from the ravings of despair, Exempt from sorrow, pain, or care— Scenes that convey our thoughts above, To holy, pure, unchanging love. In infancy, how oft we trace Emblems of innocence and grace ; We seem to breathe a purer air When we behold a child at prayer, And hear its lisping accents say— “ Lord, teach a little child to pray !” How gracefully the blushing morn Unfolds her charms! the golden corn Waving with elegance and ease, In meek submission, as the breeze Watts gently by. Here let us raise A grateful song of prayer and praise. I love the pensive evening hour, When dew-drops fall on field and flower ; When stars are peeping, one by one, As if they feared the setting sun Had not resigned his throne of light, And left them victors of the night. But there’s a scene, oh! brighter far Than morning sun or evening star ; ’Tis when the Christian yields his breath, And leaves this world for Heaven. Death Has no sting! No doubt or care ASSAILS HIS SOUL—FOR GoD IS THERE! JEANNETTE,—THE AMIABLE MONKEY. ‘‘ Render unto Ceasar the things which are Cesar’s.” My pDEAR S1rR,—AS YOU INVITE your readers to contribute from their store of in- formation, or anecdotes, to the general fund of that branch of natural science which OUR JOURNAL is especially designed to illustrate, I am induced to send you the following sketch of one of the most interesting of a species, for which, in general, I believe, you entertain no particular liking—that of mon- keys. Whether, with Dr. Ollapod, you class cats, rats, monkeys, and old maids, in the © same category, 1 cannot presume to say ;* suffice it for the present purpose, that I entreat your indulgence for the following brief me- * Ag we are not put upon our oath, we had rather leave this an “open question.” Dr, Ollapod was a funny fellow. He was a brave fellow too, thus to beard the race of ‘old maids” to their very teeth.— Hp. K. J. eS KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. morial of one of the gentlest and most playful of the long-tailed tribe that I ever met with. in the course of a tolerably long acquaintance with most branches of natural history. In the course of the summer of 1849, I be- came the possessor of a young female Mau- gabey monkey (Cercopithecus Fuliginosus). For the information of those of your readers who may not be intimately acquainted with the modern sub-divisions in zoological no- menclature, it may be as well to mention that the genus Cercopithecus includes all the monkeys, properly so called, which have cheek pouches, and _ perfectly - develoved thumbs on the anterior extremities. The whole of the Cercopithecus tribe are of a light and active make; the head round, the face comparatively short, and the eyes bright and somewhat prominent. general, slender; the limbs long; and vivacity and activity characterise every movement. In disposition, the individuals of this genus are mostly playful and gentle; and if some display occasionally a little impetuosity in confinement, yet all are free from the dis- gusting habits and propensities exhibited by other varieties of the Quadrumana. The monkey in question soon became very familiar, and answered to the name of Jean- nette as readily asa dog would do. Brought from a very warm climate—the eastern coast of Africa—we quickly discovered the neces- sity of preserving an even temperature in the place where she was kept. During the summer, her dwelling-place was a very large cage in the garden, which, in the winter, was exchanged for a hutch of considerable size in the kitchen, with a sleeping-box attached to it, warmly stuffed with hay; into this she was accustomed to retire at night. Her color, as may be imagined from the name of the species, fuliginosus, was of a dark, sooty, blue-black ; the hair, very fine and long, gradually shading into a light grey as it approached the breast and stomach.: She seemed to take great pleasure in smoothing and dressing her delicate coat, and was most remarkable for her general cleanliness of habit in all respects. Finding how gentle and tractable she appeared to be whenever any one approached her, I resolved one evening to let her out, free from a chain or any other restraint, in the room where I was sitting. It was winter, and a fire was burning brightly in the grate, protected by a fire-guard—for fear of accident to any of my young olive- branches. No sooner did Miss Jeannette find herself at liberty, than she performed a deliberate circuit of the room, until her attention was suddenly arrested by the blaze and warmth of the fire. She made instantly towards it, without perceiving the sleeping figure of Zoé, a pet Italian greyhound, that lay curled The, body is, m. 133 up ona corner of the soft Turkey rug in front of the grate. The peculiar shrill, bird-like chatter by which the monkey was accustomed to express her sense of pleasure, roused the slumbering greyhound in a moment. Dog and monkey stood for a few seconds staring at each other, until the latter softly extended her long velvetty arm, and patted the grey- hound on the head. Zoé, seeing no hostile demonstration, received these approaches with great cordiality ; and the intimacy thus begun was never afterwards interrupted. Monkey and dog would play with each other in the most amusing manner for hours to- gether; and frequently on a winter’s night, after gambolling until they were tired, the dog would stretch herself before the fire at full length, while Jeannette would curl her- self up on the hearth-rug, and make a pillow of Zoé’s back. Before the monkey had been in my pos- session three months, her playfulness and docility were such that she would gambol with my children and suffer them to do almost anything with her, without on any occasion showing the slightest malice or ill-temper. Indeed an anecdote that I am now about to relate, would almost make one believe that the creature entertained a vivid sense of gratitude for kindness. Fond as she was of all my children, she was peculiarly attached to my eldest little daughter; and would sit on her lap by the hour, dozing and murmuring gently like a kitten. On one occasion, the child had been petting the monkey, as she lay on her lap, as usual; and feeding her with nuts and other monkey-dainties ; when Jean- nette suddenly leapt down, ran to the fire- place, and began searching eagerly among the cinders, until she found one apparently to her liking. With the cinder in her paw, she sprang again into my little daughter’s lap; and, as if presenting her with the greatest delicacy imaginable, thrust the cinder into her lips. The child, it need scarcely be said, refused the proffered treat; and, after a few more ineffectual attempts, the monkey, finding her present scorned, put the cinder into her own mouth, and quickly crushed and swallowed it. It is worth noting that we found cinders, chalk, and calcareous sub- stances in general, eagerly seized by the monkey; and small pieces at once devoured. Another amusing instance of the monkey’s singularity of taste, occurred one afternoon when I was absent. My wife was sitting by herself in the parlor, when her attention was excited by a tapping against the door. Fancy- ing it was one of the children, she exclaimed, “Come in!”’ but no one came, and the noise was repeated. Somewhat puzzled as to the cause of the knocking, she rose and opened the door ; when, to her amazement and not a little to her consternation, in bounded Jean- ea ea 134 nette. On the table stood a medicine- bottle, about one-third full of a most nauseous rhubarb mixture. The monkey’s curiosity was instantly excited by the sight of the bottle. She sprang upon the table, seized the bottle, and shook it violently: but the cork was an obstacle. However, she soon managed to pull it out with her teeth; and then placing the neck of the bottle in her mouth, drank off every drop of its repulsive contents with apparently the greatest gusto. You can well imagine that this was a very droll performance. Throughout the whole time that this monkey was in my possession, I never once saw her evince any signs of malice, or fero- city of disposition; although on one occasion her temper must have been rather severely tried. When she was first brought to me, a small collar was fastened round her neck; to this a thin chain was usually fixed, before we felt sufficient confidence in her tameness to suffer her to be at large inthe room. One morning, desiring to exhibit the monkey to some friends, I called to her to come out of her cage ; but she only looked up, and did not seem at all inclined to stir. Thinking she might be sleepy or lazily inclined, I slipped the chain through the buckle of the collar. She remained quite still. I pulled her, and then she made a plaintive murmur, and put her hand to her neck. Then, for the first time,I fancied something might bewrong. I took her out and examined her; and, to my sorrow, found that the tin collar had worked through the leather binding, and caused quite a severe wound in the poor little animal’s neck. I need not say that the manacle of slavery was at once removed, and never again placed upon her. A few simple remedies effected a complete cure, and not the slightest scar remained after three weeks had elapsed. Poor JEANNETTE was carried off in the autumn of 1850, by an attack very strongly resembling cholera. She was sent to a famous animal-doctor at Pimlico, who exerted all his skill, but in vain, to save her. ‘To the last, she exhibited the same gentleness of dispo- _ sition, which had, during her short career, won for her so many friends; and my children, to this day, often talk of their merry games with—poor Jeannette, the monkey. | C.0. FP: Dawlish, Sept. 10. VIRTUE AND VICE. As, in geometry, the oblique must be known as well as the right; and in arithmetic the odd as well as the even—so in actions of life, he who seeth not the filthiness of evil, wanteth a great foil to perceive the beauty of virtue—Sir P. SIDNEY. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. THE WOMEN OF SPAIN: Hard is the task, and bold the advent’ rous flight, Of him who dares in praise of BEAUTY write ; For when to that high theme our thoughts ascend, ’Tis to DETRACT,—too poorly to commend ? CONGREVE. WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IMPRESSED with the belief, that the Spanish women are truly beautiful. All travellers of the masculine gender have pronounced them so, and it is no more than fair to give them—at least some of them—credit for a sound judgment in the matter. But there is a new version abroad, put forth by Lady Louisa Tenison. She -— woman like—‘‘ cannot see” much to talk about m Spanish beauty, nor in Spanish dress. It is amusing to hear her talk, and to turn to the pages which have been written by other writers of the opposite sex. Oh, Woman! verily thou art a paradox! Nor is it less amusing to hear her lady- ship sit in judgment on the taste of the Spanish women, as regards dress. No doubt she takes her own countrywomen as her model ! But let us listen to her comments :— On the Alameda, or public walk of Malaga, such a variety of colors meet and dazzle the eye, as to make the stranger at once conclude that whatever attractive qualities Spanish women may possess, taste in dress cannot be considered among them. The most striking novelty on first landing in Spain, is the mantilla, or black veil, which is generally worn ; although here and there bonnets are creep- ing in, and Spanish women are sacrificing the only becoming peculiarity they have left, in order to imitate the fashions of their neighbors. There is an elegance and a dressy appearance about the mantilla which create surprise at its not having been adopted by other nations; and if Spaniards could only be made to feel how unbe- coming bonnets are to them, the rich masses of whose splendid hair prevent the bonnet being pro- perly worn, they would cherish the mantilla, as conferring on them a peculiar charm in which they are safe to fear no rivals. I know that I shall be accused of insensibility and want of taste, when I confess that my first disappomtment on landing in Spain was the almost total absence of beauty amongst the Spanish women. This last observation is conclusive as to the justness of our foregoing remarks. Women are not correct or competent judges of “beauty” in their own sex. They do not “‘ see with our eyes.”” How should they ? Her ladyship proceeds :— Poets have sung of Spain’s “dark glancing daughters,” and travellers have wandered through the country with minds so deeply impressed with the preconceived idea of the beauty of the women, that they have found them all their imagination so fondly pictured, and in their works have fostered what I cannot help maintaining 2s a mere delusion —one of the many in which people still indulge when they think and dream of Spain. The women of Spain have magnificent eyes, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. beautiful hair, and generally fine teeth ; but more than that cannot be said by those who are content to give an honest and candid opinion. I have rarely seen one whose features could be called strictly beautiful ; and that bewitching grace and fascination about their figure and walk which they formerly possessed, have disappeared with the high comb which supported the mantilla and the narrow basquina—which gave a peculiar character to their walk. With the change in their costume, those dis- tinctive charms have vanished. The gaudy colors which now prevail have destroyed the elegance that always accompanies black, in which alone, some years since, a lady could appear in public. No further proof of this is required than to see the same people at church—where black is still con- sidered indispensable, and on the Alameda, with red dresses and yellow shawls, or some colors equally gaudy, and combined with as little regard to taste. Although I have not yet discovered the beauty of the Spanish women, I must say that the Malaguenians are fairly entitled, in all that does exist, to dispute the palm with the inhabitants of any other town we have visited. There wre some very pretty faces, and very characteristic of the Spanish countenance. They are generally very dark, and almost all Lave that peculiar projecting brow which gives to the face quite a character of 1ts Own. This involuntary admission argues still more forcibly that her ladyship’s prejudice blinds her better judgment. The women have a universal custom of putting fresh flowers in their hair. It strikes one much upon first arriving, to see those of every class (even the poorest) with some flower or other most gracefully placed in their rich black hair; the beauty of which is not a little enhanced by the bright red rose or snowy jessamine, contrasting so well with their raven tresses. The hair is generally worn plain,—curls being seldom seen, for they do not suit the mantilla; and if flowers cannot be procured, some bright ribbon is in- variably worn as a substitute. The love of bril- liant and showy colors appearing to form a ruling passion in the present day, offers a, singular con- trast to the fashion twenty years ago, when a lady who would have ventured into the street dressed in anything but black, would have been mobbed and insulted by the people. Our first visit to the theatre at Malaga confirmed my impressions of the exaggeruted accounts generally given of Spanish beauty. This final fling settles the point. The anmus of the writer is seen bright as the sun at noon-day. We therefore take it for granted that the Spanish women have very good taste, and that their beauty is unde- niable. OUR OLD ENGLISH WRITERS. Tue fault of the old English writers was, that they were too prone to unlock the secrets of nature with the key of learning, and often to substitute authority in the place of argument. NATURE’S OWN CHARADE. On! wuo would linger when gay Summer calls From every flowery mead and bosky dell? Oh! who would linger ‘neath the city’s walls When waves upon the wind the heather-bell ? When the green corn-fields’ promise ’gins to swell The filling ear? When silence at high noon Doth of the songsters’ callow younglings tell ? Who can resist the merry voice of June, When Nature in reply doth every heart attune ? Now venture forth my first, with buoyant grace And light step, wandering thro’ the grassy lane ; Health spreads its mantling blushes o’er her face, And shyness doth her spirits’ flow restrain. Soon as the summit of the hill we gain, And the pure breeze hath fanned her open brow, To check the gay infection were in vain,— And laughing, warbling, bounding she will go, Racing to reach the brook which cheers the vale below. Then, bending o’er the streamlet’s leaf-fringed side, To watch the sportive minnows glancing gay, Start back to see my second all untied, And blush to mark its lawless disarray Reflected there. ‘The wanton zephyrs play With each bright tress, whilst she, with pretty art The breeze will chide, and turn her head away, And rest upon some jutting rock, apart, To smooth her truant curls, and still her beating heart. Sure ’tis a pleasant picture thus to see That fair young creature cast her eyes around Half closed, yet sparkling with a covert glee, Scanning the summer treasures which abound On the o’er-arching rock—its summit crowned By plume of waving fern! whilst hanging there, My whole in verdant clusters may be found, Scattering all moisture to thirsty air, And flinging from its leaf each dew-drop glittering fair. INTOXICATION IN INDIA. BY DR. GIBSON. THE EXTENSIVE USE OF OPIUM AND RICE ARRACK among the Chinese and Malays, is pretty generally known. It is also tolerably well known that the Burmese and Mughs are extensive consumers of spirits. On this side the Ganges, the use of alcohol made from Rice -sugar, Palm-juice in its various states, from the flower of the Bassia, from the bark of Acacia Sundra, is, if not equally common, at least widely spread. ‘The Rajpoots, too, and the Kolies of Western India, are great Opium-eaters ; and the employment of this drug in rearing children of the most tender age is universal among all classes of Indian society. From what can be observed, however, there seems 136 = —_—_— = - : - KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. i every reason to think, not only that the moderate use of the drug is innoxious to children, but positively beneficial, in bringing them through the critical periods of denii- tion. In the more southern parts of Western India, the spirits used are distilled from Palm-juice, from sugar in its various forms; and less frequently from the cereal grains ; whereas north of Bombay and throughout Guzerat and Rajpootana the distillation from the flower of the Bassza latifolia, Roxb., is greatly the most common. ‘This flower is collected in the hot season by Bheels and others, from the forests; also from the planted trees,which are most abundant in the more open parts of Guzerat and Rajwarra. The ripe flower has a sickly sweet taste, re- sembling manna. Being very deciduous, it is found in large quantities under the trees every morning during the season. A single tree will afford from 200 to 400 lbs. of the flowers. The seed affords a great quantity of concrete oil, used in the manufacture of soap. The Forest of Bheel population also store great quantities of the dried flowers as a staple article of food. Hence, in ex- peditions undertaken for the punishment or subjection of those tribes when unruly, the Bassia trees are threatened to be cut down by the invading force ; and this threat most commonly ensures the submission of the tribes. In Guzerat and Rajpootana every village has its spirit-shop for the sale of the dis- tilled liquor from the flowers. In the island of Caranja, opposiieto Bombay, the govern- ment duty on the spirits distilled (chiefly from this flower) amounts to at least £60,000 per annum. I rather think that £80,000 is most generally the sum. The Parsis are the great distillers and sellers of it in all the country between Surat and Bombay, and they usually push their distilleries and shops into the heart of the forest which lines the eastern border and hills of those countries. The spirit produced from the Bassia is, when carefully distilled, much like good Irish whiskey, having a strong smoky and rather fetid favor. This latter disappears with age. The fresh spirit is, owing to the quantity of aromatic or empyreumatic oil which it contains, very deleterious, and to the Euro- pean troops (her Majesty’s 4th and 17th Dragoons) stationed in Guzerat some 30 years ago, appeared to be quite as poisonous as the worst new rum of the West Indies has generally proved to our soldiers. It excited, immediately, gastric irritation; and on this supervened the malarious fever so common in those countries. The regimental artificers, musicians, &c., and all whose extra means enabled them to obtain a larger supply of this liquor, were the first people to be cut off ; but finally, the fever spared few or none, and the only effeetive remedial measure was found to be the removal of the European force to the more sterile semi-desert plains at Deesa, in the north-west corner of the province. To show how little is known even in India regarding the spirituous drinks of the country, I may state that the. question has ere now been gravely entertained by persons high in authority, as to the practicability of rendering the people compulsorily sober, by cutting down the wild Date-trees,—as if these were the only source of alcoholic stimulus! 1 have before alluded to the Cannabis as affording a stimulating material. The use of the plant in its various forms— stalk, juice, and resin—is very widely diffused, and in many provinces (as in Scinde) a draught of the infusion forms a prelude to the daily dinner among the better classes. The stimulus has a champagne-like trans- ience, and is said to whet the appetite and improve the digestive powers. I should here merition that with Hast Indians, liquor, when taken, is most com- monly taken before food; and not after eating, as with us. ‘The continued use of the Cannabis, as practised by many at all periods of the day, speedily breaks down the system; the lungs, generative power, &c., all yielding to its influence. The use of Nux vomica is confined to desperate debauchees, by whom it is had recourse to as a bracer-up of decayed corporeal faculties. It is taken to the extent of even two seeds per diem—these being softened and after- wards fried in ghee or butter ! LIVE AND LET LIVE,— A BOW DRAWN AT A VENTURE. How often, in this cold and bitter world, Is the warm heart thrown back upon itself! Cold, careless are we of one another’s wants 5 We wrap ourselves in sullen SELENE “ee THERE ARE, NO DOUBT, many people in the world who live by jinesse, and whose existence is maintained at the cost of others. With these we have nothing to do. The law, when it catches them, (too seldom, we admit,) pays them off. But there are also a class in society who live, thoughtlessly, at the cost of their tradespeople. We wish to whisper a little secret in the ear of such. If we argue in atone of gentleness, what we say can give no offence. At this season people who enjoy the blessing of independence bid adieu tocare. Their country friends and acquaintance have open arms to receive them. They turn their backs upon London, and forget, for a time, all that is left behind. It were well just to cast one glance, before leaving, at the unsettled ac- counts of the London tradesman. It may be con- KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. sidered “ vulgar” to do this, we grant; but why not show yourself an oddity in the matter? We have done so; and have never regretted it. It is a positive fact—and we speak on the very best authority—that the long credit taken by families for articles bearing very little profit indeed to the seller, keeps him and his sick family prisoners in town, while his customers, at his expense, are revelling in all the glories of sun and fresh air. We need not go into detail on this matter. We merely state the broad fact. Chance has recently thrown usin the way of hearing some very piteous complaints connected with this subject ; and we at once resolved to make certain comments, leaving those whom it may concern to “chew the cud of meditation.” The withholding of what is “‘ due” to a trades- man who deals fairly, and sells at the lowest ready-money prices, is a cruelty daily practised, and perhaps rarely reflected on. It is, moreover, a high moral offence; for it cripples his means, and compels him to make sacrifices which mate- rially affect the interests both of himself and his family. It is a sad subject for reflection, that whilst ws are enjoying under the canopy of Heaven all that is lovely, a warm-hearted innocent man and his amiable family are, by our wanton cruelty, immured in a dungeon of filth and smoke. If this be not a “sin of omission,” then is our judgment not worth a straw. Good people! read and reform. I WOULD,—IF THOU WOULDST. Wouldst thou be mine, Td love thee with such love, thou canst not dream How wide, how full, how deep—whose gracious beam Should on thy pathway ever shine ! Wouldst thou be mine,—I’d be As father, mother, friend, to thee ; Thou never shouldst in thy new bliss, Their old, their dear affection miss; For I would love thee better still, Soothe thee in sorrow, guard from ill, Would cherish thee each passing hour, As the sun cherishes the flower, Whose ceaseless, gladdening sunbeams play Around it through the livelong day. All this should be wouldst thou But be mine own, mine only love, And every changing day should prove How faithful my first vow. Wert thou but mine—Oh, could My voice some tone persuasive take, And in thy breast some answering passion wake, Then it were well—were good— All life were light; but now My life is dark ; and thou, and thou— Is there no darkness in thy life? No loneliness, when pain and grief Oppress thy tender, gentle heart ? Couldst thou be mine, no sorrow’s dart Should deeply wound, for I’d be there ; And Love the darkening clouds should clear, Or make the very darkness shine By Love’s dear power,—wert thou but mine! 137 THE FASHION OF CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. No council from our crvukEn wills can win us ; But ills once done, we bear our guilt within ! JOHN Forp,. My Dear Sir,— Your old friend Frvo has called my attention to an article entitled ‘‘ Passages in the Life of a Dog,’’ by Charlie, in the last number of ouR JouRNAL. ‘The weather is very warm ; too warm for my old dog to ransack his brains to find words to express his horror and indignation at this most painful recital: and seeing the old fellow not very cheery, I inquired what was the matter? He then requested me to notice this article, in the precise way in which he would have doneit himself. This I agreed to do, on the understanding that all which related to the canine species should be sug- gested by himself, and that I should let their masters and mistresses (be they peers or chimney-sweepers) know what “Old Bom- byx” thinks of them. I will commence, then, by offering our joint thanks to Mr. W. H. Kent for having brought this subject forward. I can only say that, if ‘‘ Fino” or myself knew the name of the ignoble lady who exchanged poor “ Charlie’s”” mother for the fashionable Scotch terrier, it should appear in red letters three inches deep. Certain I am that her royal mistress never set her such an example ; and were I Queen of England, she should never come into my royal presence again This is a queer fancy, Mr. Editor; and I really think I could give a shrewd guess as to who this ‘‘ leader of the ton”’ is. Oh, if Iwere but certain! Is it not horrible to thiak, how ‘‘ Fashion ”’ sways everything and everybody that is encompassed by the at- mosphere of the West End? 1t deforms the human body; it debases the human mind; it metamorphoses the fair creatures of the Almighty into nondescript imps of Satan’s handiwork. We readin the Sacred Volume, that all that God made was ‘“‘ very good;” perfect—yet do we (so-called) Christians (!) dare to try and make it better. J ask em- phatically, what right has man to clip the ears or cut the tail of any harmless animal, formed originally by the Great Creator, and pronounced by Him to be very good? It is because, whilst pretending to be worship- pers of God, we are in truth worshippers of Fashion. I well recollect, when Fino was not as many months old as he is now years, a certain worthy Baronet,—who at that time occupied the very house at Cour, belonging to Mr. G. (mentioned by Fino in the num- ber of his autobiography for the present month, and which was the scene of the serio-comic adventure alluded to). I was strongly urged by this gentleman to take off three inches of Fino’s tail; and by his lady to a 138 give a fashionable appearance to his ears by a proper application of professional shears. The sapient Baronet declared that if I did so, he would become a vun-derful dog. The gentleman, who had a peculiar nasal twang, gave this observation all due effect! I need scarcely tell you, Mr. Editor, how I treated the proposal; nor need I tell you that Fino’s caudal appendage and fine ears remain just as they were at the moment of his birth. No fashion for me. J ama loverof Nature; and I firmly believe that what the Almighty has pronounced ‘very good,” none but a simpleton would venture to alter. I very rarely visit your West End; but I do sometimes. On such occasions, what do I see? Why, one or more very elegant equipages stopping before the shoyis—or, to speak fashionably, “ Magasins des Modes;” and two grinning footmen in gaudy livery, with silver-topped “ Batons d’Office,” opening the coronetted doors. Out step two or three thin, pale, cadaverous, wan, half-living ladies (wives. or daughters of Peers) ; so pinched up that they are actually wriggling with agony. A dear little pet dog have they too. He remains behind “ pour monter la garde ” over my lady’s reticule ! We pretend to admire the human form divine, and yet do all we can to deform it. A quarter of a century ago, my excellent friend, Dr. Neil Arnott, endeavored to con- vince the mothers of England of the horrible absurdity of running headlong after the tyrant Fashion, instead of following the path of simple nature (see Its deepest cherished feelings—’twould impart, More than this verse, the truth that there enshrined thou art. O, woman! sweetest flower of earth! bright sun, Diffusing joy and gladness all around! Man’s dearest friend! Blest time when first begun Thine offices of love. Heaven’s gifts to man with thee. sound Of thy sweet voice, which I delight in best, Dispel the gloom that round this soul hath wound, And when life’s sands are run, upon thy breast Let my head pillow fondly, and there sink to rest. Q. Blest hour that crown’d O! let the KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. SSS SSS SSS SSS SSS SSS 281 EE I ee ee RO eee re ee SOMETHING SEASONABLE. CHRISTMAS DAY IN A VILLAGE. *¢ Comine events cast their shadows BEFORE.” On CuristMAS Eve, the carol of a childish choir, chanting the “stretched metre of an antique song,’ is with you at the very hour when sleep surprises you. And, through the watches of the tranquil moonlight, that simple melody lingering in the chambers of the memory hovers about you in the spirit- land of dreams. Joy-bells are pealing when the morning’s sun peeps through the misty curtains of the east; and greets you with “a fair good-morrow.” And presently you hear the pattering of feet—lght buoyant footsteps cheerily ringing on the path, and ever and anon a hearty salutation—‘ A merry Christmas !’—“ I thank you, kindly; and to you, and you;” and there is such a fervid warmth and earnestness of utterance in these brief seasonable greetings, that it abso- lutely makes your heart leap as you listen. Up climbs the sun, above the vapory barrier piled against the horizon in the east ; not with a dull and watery light, as you have seen him rise for mornings past, but with a clear —a jocund, laughing light, as though his god-ship were intent to do especial honor to the day. Nor is he singular in this respect, as every house attests. Window-panes lucid as crystal—flowing draperies, spotless white —rooms garnished and dight with super- zealous care—paths swept, and withered leaves removed—levies on cellars, and forays in the store-room—slaughter in the farm-yard, and a miscellaneous savor in the kitchen, evince how universal is the wish to meet “ Old Gregory Christmas” in a holiday and hospi- table spirit.* Morning wears on. The old church-bells jingle again, and matin-chimes summon the village to prayer. From far and near,—from lonely crofts and way-side cottages; from huts that nestle in the sheltered hollows of the breezy common; and from lowly alms- houses huddled together in neighborly co- hesion,—from the venerable hall begirt about with solemn woods and primitive farm- houses, almost coeval with the hall,—they troop in cheerful companies of three or four. * We are really sorry not to be able to say who is the author of this very lovely sketch, which we find in an old newspaper bearing date 1845. It is moulded so completely to our mind, and recalls so forcibly to the memory our early days of harmless amusement (when innocence and playfulness were not, as now, regarded as blemishes), that we reprint it joyfully. All who know what a country village wsed to be, at the season of Christmas, will fully enter into the spirit of what is here set down.—Ep. K. J. Yeomen, with faces glowing like sunset; laborers, with each a bodyguard of ruddy children ; grey-headed men, the patriarchs of the poor, long since past toil, tottering along and propped on staves of choice and curious fabrication—the heirlooms of the family ; even the spare and withered grand- dames—those ancient eleemosynaries, who used to sit beside their cottage-doors on summer evenings, winking in the sun, crawl forth from their warm chimney-corner nooks, and swell the gathering throng. Under the churchyard yew they meet. Some lie beneath their feet who bore them company on that same spot last year,— while garrulous talkers, whose memories yet retain the impressions stamped upon them in their youth, discourse lamentingly of bygone times and festive celebrations,— customs disused, and homely notions utterly exploded. This animated talk sinks into scattered whispers as a stately lady, leading by the hand two graceful children, advances towards the porch. Lining the path, they make a living avenue, through which that stately lady—the mistress of the venerable hall, passes with measured step and many a pause. There is a gracious word for each ; kindly inquiries for absent invalids; and soothing speeches for the cripples and the blind; a smile of recognition for old pen- sioners, and delicate mention of substantial charities to follow. Then, the bidding-bell tinkles its final summons; and the stately lady, with her humble train, sweeps through the porch. How brave a look this rural temple wears, with its rich garniture of evergreens! How rarely does the cold, grey, stony sculpture,—how rarely do the quaint fan- tastic masks-—corbels, grotesque and grim— and monumental effigies, contrast with the dark, shining ivy leaves, and the crimson, clustering berries of the holly, which wreath the pillars, garland the arches, wind round the font, and even deck the rusty helms and tattered surcoats depending from the chancel walls ! Old familiar faces—some of them missed for many a weary month--shine on you once again. Children from school— maidens from seryice—“ snug ’prentices’’ from neighboring towns, and sturdy hinds from distant farms ; with here and there a melancholy gap—a void in some small circle, scarcely marked before, yet painfully obvious now as you recall the muster-roll of those who shared with you the fire-side mirth of many a Christmas past. But memories of the dead‘‘* come like shadows, so depart ;” and regret for those whose places shall know them no more (wholesome and salutary as that regret may be, in chastening and sub- duing the uproarious tendencies of our enjoy- 282 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ment) yields presently to thankfulness for those who yet are spared, even though change be written on the features and the forms of all; though rosy children are gradually losing their early grace and childish beauty, and expanding into awkward hoydens,—though awkward hoydens are putting on the garb and gravity of men and women, and those who lately were in the very flush and prime of life are waning sensibly, and hoary elders day by day draw visibly nearer to the tomb. But while we babble thus, the high and solemn religious services of the day proceed in their devout and beautiful progression, and the repetition of the sublimely simple story of the Nativity of the Son of God, the declaration of the stupendous object of “the” great mission, the exposition of duties He enjoins, are delivered with all the impressive earnestness, and received with a peculiar reverence appertinent to a glorious anniversary. Anon, the old church tower throbs like a living creature with the rocking of the clamorous bells; and a motley multitude streams from the vaulted porch—all but the poor recipients of the Christmas dole, to whose necessities a sum, bequeathed ori- ginally for masses to be sung on this high festival, and twelve days after, for the soul’s repose of a doughty knight, ministers most seasonably. Does not the “neighbor air smell wooingly,” as through the clear thin element the grateful steam of hot and savory dishes rises on all sides like a fragrant incense ? What says the old ballad :— All you that to feasting and mirth are inclined, Come, here is good news for to pleasure your mind Old Christmas is come for to keep open house, He scorns to be guilty of starving a mouse. Then come, boys, and welcome for diet the chief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, mine’d pies, and roast beef. Although the cold weather doth hunger provoke, *Tis a comfort to see how the chimneys do smoke; Provision is making for beer, ale, and wine, For all that are willing or ready to dine ; Then haste to the kitchen for diet the chief, Plum-pudding, goose, capon, minc’d pies, and roast beef. And what that other seasonable ditty :— Lordlings, Christmas loves good drinking Wines of Gascoigne, France, Anjou, English ale, that drives out thinking, Prince of liquors old or new. Every neighbor shares the bowl, Drinks of the spicy liquor deep, Drinks his fill without control, Till he drowns his care in sleep. Could an easterly wind, and a three hours’ gallop on Salisbury Plain, stimulate your edacious and bibulous propensities more than these two quotations? The refrain of the former hangs unctuously upon your lips as you cross the threshold of the fine manorial old farm-house, where dinner and the sunshine of a crowd of happy faces wait your coming. Happy moment! your host and hostess are in the very act of marshalling their guests to table as youarrive. Noneed of “‘introduction.” You know them one and all; from the silvery-haired old gentlewoman, who talks familiarly of the Christmas party which she met in ’80, to the youngest, noisiest, merriest prattler of all. How the huge logs crackle and blaze, and seethe and hiss; and send a roar like thunder bellowing up the vasty chimney! Quivering tongues of flame, reflected from the fire, dance on the dark and polished panels of the wall; portray strange fluctuating shadows on the ceiling, and shed a glow—a most superfluous glow upon the faces of the com- pany. And what a picture gallery might be formed from truthful transcripts of those varied faces! The deaf old gentleman’s, whose round bald head shines like a ball of polished ivory, and who will persist in answering his neighbor’s comments on the sermon with an eulogistic allusion to the turkey. The blue-eyed girls, whose peachy cheeks are one perpetual blush. Or his, the handsome stripling’s,—opposite, whose eyes acknowledge a “ divided duty,” and wander from the dinner to the blushing donna with restless incessancy. The little corpulent bachelor’s, who is at once the wit and wonder of the village. Or those round-faced urchins’ and arch vivacious hoydens,’ whose eyes sparkle ecstatically in the contem- plation of a marvellously-rich and marvel- lously-huge plum-pudding. When all the edibles (their name is legion) have been discussed,—and even schoolboy appetites are satiated; wines, toasts and speeches “set the table in a roar.’ The little rotund bachelor “rises with diffidence to propose the health of an old and honored friend—their estimable host, whose hospi- tality, domestic virtues,” &c. &e. Andthen the ‘estimable host,” “returns his earnest heartfelt thanks,” and begs to toast the bachelor—his ‘speedy marriage, and the blessing of a numerous progeny.” And then, there is an infinite deal of tittermg,— especially among the ladies ; and not a little banter, and not a few sly sallies at the good- humored bachelor’s expense. And presently, the ladies and the junior bachelors,—and the children, steal from the table, and take possession of an ampler chamber—pranked with evergreens (and misseltoe among the rest, depend upon it). And now,—all the adults unanimously pronounce that they will have “some fun.” KIDD’S CWN JOURNAL. 283 And then, the pranks and pastimes which succeed! the frolics so void of guile, so full of glee! The clear and ringing laughter of the children,—so silvery, so ripe, so round ; so evidently and entirely from the heart! the tumultuous happiness of blind man’s buff; the trepidation of hunt the slipper; the puzzling riddles and the forfeits, that equally perplex ; the project of a dance,—a_ real old-fashioned country-dance,—so suddenly conceived, and carried out so zealously. And, in the pauses of the dance, comes the liquid soaring voice of some _half-bashfnl maiden, trilling an old, old melody—a simple ballad from the lips of simple beauty, rapturously encored. Other pauses in the dance, too, now and then occur—wilful premeditated pauses, in- variably made beneath the silver-berried misseltoe, and kisses are stolen with a wonderful efirontery (to the scandal of the assembled company) ; until, in turn, the other members of the company are similarly attacked; and then it is remarkable that those who were the noisiest in their “oh! oh!” submit to similar malpractices without amurmur. The little obese bachelor himself contrives to leave his vinous friends; and, joining the merry-makers, makes most desperate and undiscriminating captures beneath the mystic bough, without encoun- tering a very violent opposition. Then, chuckling with delight, he leads a seven- years’ beauty down the dance with all the elasticity of an enfranchised schoolboy. So, evening deepens into night; and mid- night passes unobserved; and so the “ wee short hours ayont the twal” arrive before the festive company depart. Stars twinkle, and the setting moon blinks on dispersing revellers. And ever and anon you meet some other fragments of a party just now broken up, or pass a house yet ringing with the mirthful voices of its noisy inmates. Then, with a heart warmed with good-fellow- ship and wine, you seek the shelter of your own roof-tree; and, in a deep sound sleep, wind up the enjoyments of—Christmas Day. “A BOW DRAWN AT A VENTURE.” “Some people” are very callous. They have hearts harder than steel. Winter is coming; and we shall speedily hear of their shooting and “bagging” every living creature they see, that unhappily may be regarded as “ curious.” We should liketo “bag” them. Sir Wm. Jones says of such brutes :—“ I never could learn by what right, nor conceive with what feelings, a naturalist (!) can cause the misery of an innocent bird,—killing it because it has a gay plumage, and leaving its young perhaps to perish in a cold nest.” 'This savage propensity really 2s inexplicable; nor is any person practising it entitled to rank among “naturalists.” ‘The name is sadly prostituted ! Krwirw, Tue NATURALIST, No. 33. Groombridge and Sons. There are some very interesting communi- cations in this number, on a variety of subjects connected with botany and orni- thology, to which we beg to refer the curious reader. Among others, there is a paper on the red-backed shrike, or butcher-bird (Lanius Collurio), by Mr. Stephen Stone. From this we make an extract,—not failing (of course) to comment on the cruelty evinced by certain naturalists, whilst “bageing”’ everything that is curious. They hardly deserve the name of “‘ Naturalists” who are so unnatural. Mr. Stone, by the way, appears half ashamed of himself! The Red-backed Shrike is rather plentiful in Oxon and Bucks; it seldom makes its appearance in these counties before the latter end of April, or the beginning of May, being amongst the latest of our summer birds of passage. Although apparently of robust frame, it seems unable to bear the cold with the same degree of patience as the diminutive Chiff Chaff, and other species far more delicate-looking than itself; for in the unusually cold weather we had in June, 1852, I used to see it sitting shivering on the sheltered side of the hedge, and looking as com- fortless, dejected, and woe-begone as our own fair sisters or cousins, “the maids of merry England,” are wont to look, when through some blunder of papa’s, or other inadvertence, they find themselves doomed to a month’s sojourn at some “‘ fashionable watering-place ’’ — ‘“‘furnished apartments with attendance” having been “ secured” for them for that period, before the commencement, or worse still, after the close of “the season.” In one of its habits, that of returning to a particular station, after capturing a passing insect, it closely re- sembles the Fly-catcher. I have known it take its stand for hours, near where a haystack has been in the course of for- mation, for the purpose of pouncing upon the moths which generally abound amongst newly- made hay; and which it seemed to be fully aware would every now and then be dislodged by the men engaged in building the stack, and thus afford it unlimited exercise of its “catch-me-if you-can” abilities, as well as an unlimited supply of food. These moths it generally caught on the wing ; but should one chance to “ come the artful dodge,” and endeavor to baffle the intentions of its pursuer, by dropping amongst the herbage, it would be down upon it in a moment, and unless the poor insect had very artfully concealed itself, would be sure to drag it out; and fortunate indeed must that individual be, who, by the above, or some other stratagem, succeeded in “saving its bacon.” I have often noticed this bird, when I have been out, with the net beating for moths, sitting on a conspicuous branch, and intently watching my proceedings ; when, should a moth escape my net, which not unfrequently happened, it would never fail immediately to give chase to it, and after capturing it, which it seldom failed to do, 284 would return to the same, or a proximate branch, and again anxiously watch one’s motions, in the hope no doubt of another miss on my part, which would be almost sure to be turned into “a decided hit” on its part. I have frequently seen specimens of the common humble bee transfixed upon thorns, evidently the work of these birds. In some in- stances I have met with them alive, in others dead ; but in all apparently deserted, as though, after capturing these insects, they had discovered they were useless to them as articles of food; or do they, as do our own venison-loving epicures, cousider their “ game” improved by being “‘ hung” till it has become “‘rather high?” or, to speak plainly and intelligibly, till, venison-like, it has become as nearly as possible an abominable mass of putrefaction ? I feel disposed, however, to give them credit for a less perverted and better taste than this, and therefore would infer that it is far more likely that they content themselves with merely picking out the honey-bag, and the moist internal parts, rejecting the dry and husky ex- terior, and so leaving it to be bleached by the sun, and winds, and rains, in like manner as in days of yore, the bodies of great criminals were left suspended, as an “ awful warning” to all mis- doers. I am aware that what I am about to relate will shed no lustre upon my character for‘humanity ; but my excuse is, that I was at the time in want of specimens as a medium of exchange with an American gentleman, who was forming a col- lection of British birds: this, I trust, will ex- culpate me from the charge of wanton cruelty, which otherwise might justly have been urged against me. It was towards the end of May, when these birds usually pair, preparatory to the business of nidification, &c., that 1 observed a pair—a newly- married couple seemingly—who had just decided on the place in which they should “pass the honeymoon.” A shot from the gun with which I was provided made this young wife a widow. Apparently unconscious of what had befallen her, she removed but to a short distance along the same hedge; and in a few minutes after I had “bagged my game,” and re-loaded the gun, another ‘‘ gallant”? made his appearance. Now, whether he so well counterfeited the voice, mien, and manner of her “‘first love,” as to make her, in the simplicity of her heart, really believe that it was he, I cannot say; but at any rate he was as well received as though he had been “the real Simon Pure.” Our English law mercifully gives ‘the prisoner at the bar” the “ benefit of any doubt” that may arise in his or her case; we will therefore, if you please, be equally merciful, and give this “fair one” the ‘benefit of any doubt” there may be, as to whether she was really deceived in the above matter, or not; for it would be a sad blot upon her character, if it should appear that she could knowingly “receive the addresses” of another, at the time that her late “lord” was lying dead but a few paces off; such conduct would be extremely shocking—surpassed tis true by that of “The Lady Ann” in “ Richard the Third”—this, however, is known to have been a mere invention of the pvet, and not an historical fact. Whether Shakspeare was induced to perpetrate this libel upon the ‘‘fair sex,” KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. merely for the purpose of heightening the effect of the piece, or whether he was prompted thereto by the desire of giving vent to a little secret spite or malice, which from some cause or other he harboured against them, is a question upon which I shall not offer an opinion. But to return from this digression. Another shot laid this second “‘inamorato”’ prostrate ; when a third appeared—he shared the same fate, and then a fourth. How far it might have been possible to have gone on with this slaughter, I know not; to all appearance it might have been continued ad infinitum; but having now speci- mens sufficient for my purpose, | felt no inclination [how very kind !] to proceed with an experiment, cruel in itself, and useless as cruel. [! !] From the above fact, it would appear that the males of this species, on their migration to this country, are in the same forlorn condition, at least pro tempore, as the males of our own species, on their emigration to ‘‘ our antipodes.” In either case, each female on her arrival is sought after with the utmost eagerness, and caught at with the utmost avidity, being considered—as indeed she ought in any case to be considered—if not ‘the noblest,” at least the fairest “gift of God,” &c. We are sorry to think that people who | write in so pleasant a strain, and who pro- fess to love Nature and her works, should take such delight in the use ofa gun. We cannot reconcile the two, by any art that we are master of. The propensity to “ kill,” seems peculiar to our race. The moment hunger drives the inhabitants of the fields near our dwellings, that moment do we open a volley upon them for their destruction. They ask our hospitality, and pay for it in singing. We violate the rights of hospitality by making them sing their death-song! Nobody shall convince us that man is not a semi-savage ! THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON MAGAZINE, —No. 5. Piper. We are not surprised to hear of the ex- tended popularity of this marvellously-cheap as well as interesting periodical. It began well, it continues well, and let us hope it will end well. The public must be the gainers ; that is clear. Common gratitude should cause them to take care that the worthy pro- prietors too come in for their share of reward. They cater nobly for the literary public, and deserve their fullest support. In the present number is an article entitled ‘‘ Instinct and Reason.” As this is a subject peculiarly suited to our pages, we select a portion of it as a specimen of the work :— In the case of inferior animals, we find instinct directing them to the performance of acts neces- sary for their existence, or some important purpose in their economy. When the bee builds up the cell of wax that is to contain its store of honey, it is found to do so on the principles of the most profound geometry, which demonstrate that the KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 285 hexagonal form, which is invariably adopted by the insect in the construction, is the very best for containing the greatest quantity of its sweet food in the smallest possible space. The animal does all this without knowledge or experience to direct it—the first it forms is as perfect as the last, and bees have constructed their cells in this and no other form, since the creation of the world. In the same way, when the wasp brings home a number of small grubs, and is careful to place them in the hole where she had previously depo- sited her eggs, and only brings-such a number of these grubs as will be sufficient to maintain the worm which that egg, when hatched, will produce —though this wasp never saw an egg produce a worm, and it is certain will be dead herself before that worm will be in existence, yet is she taking, by this means, the surest method of providing for the life of her future offspring—by thus storing up for it a supply of food to serve it while unable to provide for itself. To these operations the animal is directed neither by observation nor experience —but works in the dark, and under the influence of certain irresistible propensities that appertain to its instinctive nature. The operations of reason are very different from all this. Here we find means adapted to ends ; and these means varying, as observation and experience suggest, the more effectually to attain the design; and as different individuals have different capacities for obser- vation, and have reached different degrees of skill, a great diversity is found amongst men in the process they adopt. In fact, we never find two men work precisely alike, nor.does the same individual evince at all times the same degree of skill. The rational animal, under the guidance of his noble faculty, is capable of un- limited improvement in every work of art; and though he may begin with building himself a domicile more rude and unfit for his purpose than the habitation the beaver forms for itself, he ends with erecting a palace replete with every accommodation! But instinct is indepen- dent of experience, and borrows nothing from reason. The spider forms its web, and the lion pismire digs its little pit, before the former has tasted a fly, or the latter an ant; even before they knew that such insects existed. The young bee, the moment it has escaped from the chrysalis state, begins to expand and try its wings; sallies forth alone from the hive, alights upon the proper flowers, extracts from them the proper juice; collects the farina, kneads it into a little pellet, de- posits thisin its proper receptacles in its feet; returns back to the hive, and then delivers up the honey and wax which it has collected and manufactured. Thus all bees act at the present day; and thus they acted six thousand years ago, when they col- lected their honey from the flowers of Eden! The distinction then between reason and instinct is marked enough. Under the impulse of the former, the actions of animals are invariably the same under the same circumstances—and in every individual of their species throughout all genera- tions. But the actions of the latter are varied according to the greater or lesser cultivation of some of their rational powers. Men’s actions are the result of some previous intellectual process, and proceed from motives acting on the will. But in- stinctive acts are prompted by a blind impulse, and are not under the control of volition. There can be no doubt, however, that in many of the inferior animals there is often found a mixture of some portion of rational power and instinctive propensity conjoined. Volumes may be filled with these instances, sufficiently authenti- cated, and some of them are both amusing and extraordinary. It will be sufficient to mention one. A medical man, practising in the North of England, was one day out partridge-shooting with a friend, who had a favorite pointer with him. It happened that this poor dog had his leg broken by some accident, and his master was about to shoot him. The surgeon interposed, and begged he might have the dog for the purpose of attempting acure of the fracture. This being granted, the animal was subjected to the usual treatment ; and life and limb were, in consequence, saved. Some time afterwards, while this medical man was sitting in his surgery, he heard a scratching at the door; and on going to see the cause of it, he was surprised to find his old patient, the pointer, with another dog, who had had his leg fractured, and whom, it would seem, the animal had taken the liberty of introducing to his surgeon, that his friend might have the benefit of the same treatment which had succeeded so well in his own case ! In man the instinctive principle is modified by the intellectual of his nature. In infancy, the one predominates over the other, as this sovereignty of instinct then is absolutely necessary for his safety. At that period of his existence, it would be useless to make his preservation dependent on reflection, which is too slow a process to be avail- able. © Were the child obliged to find out the proper mode of procuring food from the nurse’s breast, and to await the result of certain trials before it could decide on the best, it would pro- bably be starved before it could come to any con- clusion on the subject. Nature has, therefore, taken the affair into her own hands, by giving the child an instinct, by which it at once, without reason, reflection, or experience, effects its object in a manner as perfect as the most refined philo- sophy could have taught it. But as the life of man advances, his intellectual powers become gradually developed, and the instincts become weaker and more under the control of his judgment. It is, indeed, a beautiful and interesting spectacle often to contemplate those instinctive propensities and feelings of his organi- sation, thrust, as it were, under the power of his moral and intellectual nature, made subservient to his volition, or suspended altogether in presence of the more commanding influence of a sound reason or determined will. As in the following examples :— ’ When we observe some pious individual em- ployed in the administration of the consolations of religion, in the abode of disease and death ; where at every breath he is sure to inhale the poison of some malignant fever; we may be sure that his moral resolution has overcome the instinctive dread of death. Or we may picture to ourselves a young mother, in the noontide of her youth and beauty, seated at the cradle of her sick infant; and there, hour after hour, she will sit, negligent of her own health, and (what is often considered 286 KIDDS OWN JOURNAL. a greater sacrifice) careless of her own looks and dress. From morn to eve, unmindful of her form, Unmindful of the happy dress that stole The wishes of the youth, when every maid With envy pin’d— devoting every moment of her time, and every thought of her heart, to a watchful attendance on her helpless charge, and performing all those offices for its ease and comfort to which nothing but a sense of duty could reconcile her! But there is an instance of the triumph of the intellectual over the instinctive which has been so frequently exemplified in the maritime history of our country as to merit recording here. Let us place ourselves, in imagination, amidst the fearful turmoil of a shipwreck, where, through the roaring of the storm, we can hear the agonising shrieks of those on board the stranded vessel. There is one, however, who, in the midst of the agitated crowd, is ordering and directing everything with perfect composure. The only boat that has es- caped wreck, is carefully lowered; and this indi- vidual, the captain of the vessel, busies himself in seeing placed in it the most helpless of the pas- sengers, and boatful after boatful is landed in safety before he himself quits. Or the case may be that the boat will not hold all, yet he refuses.a place in it for himself; and there he stands, on the deck of the sinking vessel, having made up his mind to perish rather than sacrifice one of the lives committed to his charge. Here we see the natural and powerful instinct, of self-preservation subdued by a seaman’s sense of duty! But even in the occupations of ordinary life, we find many examples of the subjugation of the lower propensities of animal life to the nobler objects of the intellectual character. We see the astronomer in his observatory, and the chemist in his laboratory—the one heedless of the cold night and wintry sky, seated for hours at the telescope, watching the progress of some distant star across its disc; the other, amidst an atmosphere of mephitic gas, repeating his experiments on some detonating compound, that on the least accident would blow him to pieces. And for what is all this abandonment of selfish gratification, and ex- posure to physical suffermg and danger ?—to enable these individuals to confirm or establish some fact in science, or enable some future in- quirers to do so, long after they themselves are in their graves. It is curious to find that however sagacious some animals may be, and however near they sometimes approach ourselves in intelligence, there are certain intellectual acts they are never found to attempt in any degree whatever. ‘ Nobody,” says Adam Smith, ‘ever saw a dog make a fair and deliberate exchange of one bone for another with another dog. No one ever saw one animal, by its gestures and natural cries, signify to another ‘this is mine, that is yours; I am willing to give this for that.’ No animal is found to cook his food, and none of them have a perception of the beautiful in external nature. Who ever saw a horse or an ass gazing with pleasure on the scenery amidst which they are grazing? Neither do any of them employ any means of decorating their bodies artificially—a propensity which is found universally in the human race, from the accomplished female of civilised life, who wreathes her natural locks with flowers, to the rude savage who sticks a fish-bone through her nostrils, to quemen the fascination of her squat and sable ace ! Tue A, B, C, or AtrHapeticat Rartway Guipe. Numbers 1 and 2. William Tweedie. This much-desiderated monthly periodical professes to show you, at a glance, “ How and when you can go from London to the different stations in Great Britain, and return ; together with the fares, distances, population,” &e., &e. This profession is literally and most honor- ably fulfilled. In one moment, we find all we want. No hunting (as in ‘ Bradshaw ’’) for a full hour ; and then being more puzzled than ever as to what so much paper and print can possibly mean. All is clear, distinct, and perfectly intelligible even to a child. If we want to go to Cambridge, we look under C. There it is, in an instant. “From Bishopsgate station, 574 miles.”’ The fares are also stated; the population, and the times of departure and arrival at and from. The matter lies in a nutshell. Six- pence tells you all you can care to know. The work is exquisitely printed, nobly arranged, highly useful; and it will soon silence every other work of more pretension but with little claim to public support. We cannot say more—we could not say less. A Lecrure& on THE OrIGIN AND MAnuFAc- TURE OF Paper. By R. HERRING.” This is a pamphlet, emanating from a wholesale stationer. Being behind the scenes, he is able as willing, to point out the decep- tion used in paper-making. His remarks are worth listening to. He says— So far as the public, and even half the stationers are concerned, I believe no branch of trade offers such undeniable opportunities of deception, as that in connection with the material of paper ; arising necessarily, to a great extent, from the ignorance which an excessive variety always creates. But paper is also made a very ready acquisition for misleading people with reference to numerous other commodities. Some coarse kinds being cheaper than leather, are not unfrequently made use of to gratify the public, even by reducing the price of boots and shoes. Not, however, to enter unnecessarily into such matters, I will just give an instance which occurred to me the other day, in the case of a grocer, situate in a very populous district. Royal-hand, you must know, is the name of a certain size of paper, used chiefly for packing up moist sugar. One ream will do up a hogshead of 14 or 15 cwt. ‘There are two colors, blue and white; the latter being more frequently made use of, because a little cheaper. We were quite out KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 287 of the blue, excepting a quality at 42s. per cwt. or 44d. per lb., which, as a reason that it would not exactly suit, was openly acknowledged to be the price the sugar was to be retailed at when packed, as being superior in quality to precisely the same article done up in white paper. What the sugar itself costs, is not a matter of question with which we are at present concerned; but that deception was aimed at, through the medium of paper, there can be no doubt whatever. I have since been informed that the practice, even through necessity, has become quite common. White papers are often considerably adulterated with plaster of Paris, sometimes to the amount of 30 per cent., for the sole purpose of gaining weight. ‘This can easily be detected by burning a sheet; when the plaster will remain, after combustion, in a whitish-colored ash. The manufacture of brown paper is as frequently assisted by the addition of clay for the like purposes ; which, by giving a more prefer- able color, though at the same time reducing the strength, yet necessarily the value, is, as things go, an unquestionable recommendation to the artfulness of the maker. I say as things go, for it is truly surprising to note the avidity with which people seek cheap brown paper by weight. Whereas, in the majority of cases, what they really want is strength, free from unnecessary substance. Compare, for instance, specimens numbered 56 and 57; the one appearing so much better in color, is two or three shillings per cwt. less than that marked 56, which with many persons would at once be deemed an inducement to give it the preference, for the two plain reasons of more “stuff” for money, and a better appearance into the bargain. But, surely, a thick cumbersome article is not to be thought so advisable for wrapping purposes as one which, though thinner, is as strong and much more pliable. And to prove that itis a false economy alone which justities such a choice, I assure you that no less than 13 cwt. were placed in my presence in the centre of a sheet of that marked 56, when held out at the corners, before it gave way ; while, where you similarly to test a sheet of the same weight of quality 57 (which from color alone is ordinarily termed the best make), it would require scarcely more than one-third of that amount to break it down. So far, then, from two or three shillings per hundred saved being any decided advantage, I should rather be disposed to conceive it a sounder economical project to make use of the other kind, even at an advance of cent. per cent. Let all who are concerned in this matter, read, mark, learn, and “ digest ’’ (if they can) what they have here had brought under their notice. Paper-makers tell tales of grocers, now. By-and-by, we shall perhaps hear what the latter have to say about the former. All trades are honest,—till they are found out. Hoaa’s INstrucTorR,—NoVEMBER. Groom- bridge and Sons. . We have frequently given extracts from this instructive periodical. We will now offer another, describing the Capercailzie, or Cock of the Woods :— The Capercailzie, or Cock of the Woods, though formerly abundant in Scotland, has now long ceased to be a denizen of our forests. This splendid bird is the undoubted chieftain of the grouse tribe; the length to the end of the tail being 34 inches, and the extent of wings 52. To its great size, beauty, the large quantity of whole- some food supplied by it, and the gradual disap- pearance of the forests that afforded it both shelter and food, the Capereailzie owes its final extinction in Scotland. The same circumstances have led to the disappearance of the turkey, which swarmed in the primeval forests of many parts of the New World, before these resounded to the stroke of the white man’s axe. It is now more than half a cen- tury since the last native species of the Caper- cailzie was seen in Scotland. Various attempts have been made to re-naturalise it, by introducing individuals from Norway, in the wooded moun- tainous parts of which country the bird is plentiful. In the year 1828, the Earl of Fife caused a pair to be brought over; but the female dying before landing, the attempt was frustrated. In 1829, another pair was imported, and placed in an aviary at Mar Lodge, where incubation took place, with- out, however, producing a live bird. In 1830, another incubation of the same hen was again unsuccessful; but, after many precautions had been taken, a live brood was obtained the following year, 1831. It was intended, after several broods had been obtained, to set two or three pairs at liberty in the magnificent pine forests of Braemar: For the former existence of the Capercailzie in Scotland, we have the authority of Pennant, who, in his “ Tour of Scotland” (1769), notices as fol- lows :—‘‘ Near Castle Urquhart is the broadest part of the loch (Loch Ness), occasioned by a bay near the castle. Above it is Glen Moriston, and east of that Strath Glas, the Chisolm country, in both of which are forests of pine, where that rare bird the Cock of the Wood is still to be met with ; perhaps in those near Castle Grant. For- merly it was common throughout the Highlands, and was called Capercailzie and Anercalze, and in the old law books, Capercally.” In his “ British Zoology,” he says, ‘This species is found in no other part of Great Britain than the Highlands of Scotland, north of Inverness, and is very rare even in these parts. I have seen one specimen, a male, killed in the woods of Mr. Chisolme, to the north of Inverness.” According to various authors, the Capercailzie is abundant in many of the mountainous wooded tracts of the Continent, especially Norway and Sweden. In the latter country it is often domes- ticated, breeding even in confinement. It retains a good deal of its natural fierceness, and will peck at strangers. This fine bird is not much inferior to the turkey in size, and is more robust in proportion. The body is full; the neck strong, and of moderate length; the wings somewhat short; the feet of moderate strength; the tail rather long. The male has the upper parts undulated with grey and black ; the throat, fore-neck, and breast, black; the tips of the feathers, glossy dark green; the lower wing coverts, and feathers under the tail, white. The female is much smaller than the male, and has the 288 plumage variegated, yellowish red, brownish black, and white. The food of the Capercailzie is the leaves and buds of the pine tree, juniper berries, cranberries, &c. The following account of its habits is taken from Lloyd’s ‘‘ Northern Field Sports :’— ‘Nilsson, a Norwegian naturalist, with a small dog, ‘ Brunette,’ used to hunt the Capercailzie in autumn. ‘Brunette’ would flush them from the ground, and cause them to perch on the trees. ‘ Here,’ says he, ‘as “‘ Brunette”’ has the eye of an eagle, and the foot of an antelope, she was not long in following them. Sometimes, however, these birds were in the pines in the first instance ; but, as my dog was possessed of an extraordinary fine sense of smelling, she would often wind, or, in other words, scent them, from a long distance. When she found the Capercailzie, she would station herself under the tree where they were sitting, and, by keeping up an incessant barking, direct my steps towards the spot. I now advanced with silence and caution ; and, asit frequently happened that the attention of the bird was much taken up with observing the dog, I was enabled to approach until it was within range of my rifle, or even my common gun.’ In the forest, the Capercailzie does not always present an easy mark; for, dipping down from the pines nearly to the ground, as is frequently the case, they are often almost out of distance before one can properly take aim. “Towards the commencement, and during the continuance of winter, they are generally in flocks. These, usually composed wholly of cocks (the hens keeping apart), do not separate until the approach of spring. These flocks, which are sometimes said to contain fifty or a hundred birds, usually hold to the sides of the numerous lakes and morasses with which the northern forests abound; and to stalk the same in the winter time with a good rifle is no ignoble amusement. Among other expedients resorted to in the northern forests for the destruc- tion of the Capercailzie, is the following :—During the autumnal months, after flushing and dispersing the brood, people place themselves in ambush, and imitate the cry of the old or young birds, as cir- cumstances may require. By thus attracting them to the spot, they are often able to shoot the whole brood in succession. In Smaland and Ostergoth- land, the Capercailzie is hunted by torchlight, in the following manner :—Towards nightfall, people watch the last flight of the Capercailzie before they go to roost. The direction they have taken into the forest is then carefully marked by means of a prostrate tree, or by one which is felled es- pecially forthe purpose. After dark, two men start in pursuit of the birds: one of them is provided with a gun, the other with a long pole, to either end of which a flambeau is attached. The man with the flambeau now goes in advance, the other remaining at the prostrate tree, to keep it and the two lights in an exact line with each other. By this curious contrivance they cannot well go astray in the forest. Thus they proceed, occasionally halting, and taking a fresh mark, until they come near to the spot where they have reason to sup- pose the birds are roosting. They now carefully examine the trees; and when they discover the objects of their pursuit, which are said stupidly to remain gazing at the fire blazing beneath, they shoot them at their leisure. Should there be KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. several Capercailzie in the same tree, however, it is always necessary to shoot those in the lower branches in the first instance; for, unless one of the birds falls on its companions, it is said the rest will never move, and, in consequence, the whole of them may be readily killed.” We should add, that the other articles in this magazine are also of sterling interest and value. Its Editor caters well for the reading public. NEVER SIT IN WET OR DAMP CLOTHES. THE season has arrived, when all who value their health must indeed be warily cautious. Wet clothes must immediately be exchanged for dry ones, or the consequences may be very serious. It should never be forgotten that evaporation always produces cold: because the heat which is required to convert water into steam must be withdrawn from the surrounding medium. Hence wet summers are often succeeded by cold winters; the greater evaporation produced from the exces- sive moisture having reduced the temperature of the earth. That evaporation produces cold, may be immediately proved by moistening the palm of the hand, and exposing it to the wind. This causes evaporation, when cold will be very sensibly felt. And the more so, if we use a volatile fluid, such as sal volatile or spirit of wine; the greater rapidity with which they evaporate, producing a greater degree of cold. It is from this reason | that remaining in wet clothes is so dangerous. The evaporation that takes place during the time they are drying, carries away so large a portion of heat from the body, as almost certainly to induce cold, and all the thousand diseases which follow in its train. When a person is obliged to remain in wet clothes, the best method to adopt—is to pre- vent evaporation. ‘This may be done by covering them with a Mackintosh, or any other garment which will best keep the moisture in; and if this be effectually done, the person will feel little in- convenience from his damp clothes. The warmth of the body will soon communicate itself to the damp garments under the Mackintosh ; and, as the steam cannot escape through it, there is nothing to produce a greater degree of cold than if the garments had been dry. THERE’S LOVE FOR ME—AND YOU! THERE is a dew for the flow’ret, And honey for the bee; And bowers for the wild-bird, And love for you and me! There are tears for the many, And pleasure for the few ; But let the world pass on, dear, There’s love for me and you! There is care that will not leave us, And pain that will not flee ; But on our hearth unaltered Sits Love ‘tween you and me! Our love it ne’er was reckoned— Yet good it is, and true ; It’s half the world to me, dear, It’s all the world to you! J. H. JE ee a eae Nn TON REN Fe NO Tenens Serene TO re a gpm ag ng na NN KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 289 BRITISH SONG-BIRDS5,— ACCLIMATED IN THE UNITED STATES, NEW YORK. Is there a brilliant fondling of the cage, Though fed with dainties from the snow-white hand Of a kind mistress, fairest of the land, But gladly would escape? And, if need were, Scatter the colors from the plumes that bear The emancipated captive through blithe air, Into. strange woods, where heat large may live ; On best or worst which rHry and Nature give? WorDSWORTH. EALOUS ARE WE—ZEALOUS ALREADY ARE MANY OTHERS, to carry into distant lands the music that makes Old England so truly happy. Take away the melody of our feathered songsters, which adds so much delight to our walks, strolls, and wanderings, and what would the country be? It would be like a well-spread repast, — wanting only the guests to partake of it. A pretty picture,—inanimate. ‘There would be no life—no joy—no companionship. The stillness of nature, so lovely by night, requires the contrast we allude to by day. We see our little friends happy as we walk along. We hear their songs of praise as they flit before us. We follow them, till out of sight, as they wing their way to Heaven's gate; and await their return with “a new song.”’ Are we not repaid for our patience ? Was any melody ever equal to that of our “herald of the morn?” What an anthem rolls over our head, as we quit the pillow to greet the God of day! Take away our birds, —and our hearts would be indeed sad ! The paper we inserted last month, on the subject of Acclimating our British Birds of Song in the United States, has excited, as we imagined it would do,very great attention. The Liverpool, Manchester, and other papers, have kindly given it a currency which will keep the subject alive,—we hope, forever. It is not a private, but a public question; for the two countries are now so closely united that they have, to a great extent, become part and parcel of each other. The women of America—-God bless them ! are, by their sound wholesome writings, working quite a reformation amongst us. We rejoice to see their sentiments so liberally copied into our public prints. They cannot fail of having their due effect in time ; for there is something in innocent simplicity very at- tractive—albeit FASHION, with her iron heels, does trample virtue so remorselessly under foot. Jine upon line,—precept upon precept, is the old system of education ; but it is good to the last :— Gutta cavat lapidem—non vi sed sepe cadendo. The stone is worn away,—not by force, but by the constant dripping of falling water. Vou. IV.—i9. Well, then; we “owe” the United States something. Their women shall have the praise ; and also, if we can accomplish it, they shall have the gladdening, cheerful voices of our birds, to do them homage. We can imagine they will be well satisfied by such compensation; for they are tender- hearted, sensible, refined, modest, domestic ; devoted to works of charity, and labors of love. Ostentation and pride, which disfigure all the doings of owr countrywomen, in them find little place. Hence the power with which they write, and the influence produced by their honest argument. Having thus proved that we are called upon to make some return for favors received, let it be in the form of “ thanksgiving, and the voice of melody.” Our Correspondent, T.S. W., (ante p. 213) has given us a very interesting account of his Jirst experiment with the birds he took out from England in 1852 ; and we have reason to believe that most of them are alive and doing well. But as yet, the numbers of each which have been exported have been ridi- culously few. A rigorous winter, vermin, sickness, or other causes, might speedily reduce their ranks; and interfere with the propagation of their various races. Suffice it, that the first experiment has been satisfac- tory; and that public excitement to prosecute the matter vigorously has become greater than ever. Fortunately, everybody can assist in the matter, who is about to visit New York— provided only they love to do a common act of pleasing duty. On their arrival, they will find open arms ready to receive them. “The Brooklyn Natural History Society” at New York, will at once relieve them of further trouble ; and see to the welfare of all their feathered visitors the instant they are landed. This is the grandest point of ‘all,—cordial co-operation. We do not at all wonderat the anxiety shown to have our British birds associated with the native birds of America. These latter have singularly fine plumages, but no song. Hence are they valued for the former only. It is curious to note the furore prevailing in England for these useless birds. They are never happy here; but being “ foreign,” they have an ideal value. Doomed to ‘lead a life of torture, they linger a few years with us, and fairly die of grief. We never could conscientiously keep these birds under our roof; for we love to see everything of ours happy. Now, with regard to the further quantities of British Song-birds to be taken out—we invite the aid of al/ lovers of natural history about to proceed to New York. A few pairs of skylarks, blackbirds, thrushes, goldfinches, &c., will occupy little space, if put into long store-cages prepared for the purpose; and U 290. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. as the voyage is now so quickly performed, few, if any, deaths may be anticipated.* Of course, the birds should be kept out of the reach of draughts, and moderately warm, during the outward passage. They should also be regularly cleaned (thrice a week), and have fresh food and water daily. Nearly all the birds taken out last year appear to have thrived, excepting the robins. These must be kept in cages with separate compartments, as they are very quarrelsome. They are very impatient of confinement, un- less within sight of a garden, or the noise of cities—two opposites which in them meet. Les extremités se touchent.. The food must be constantly varied; consisting of a little cheese, grated; stale bread, German paste, bruised almonds, partially-masticated bread and butter, &c., and plenty of water. The cages should be open in front only, and of a mode- rate height within. The birds should on no account be permitted to see each other, or in any other way to become excited. It would be well, if people would so contrive as to reach their destination in the early spring. ‘The birds would then become more readily seasoned to the climate. This is not absolutely needful, but rather desirable. The seed given to the birds must all be of the very best ; and consist of canary, rape, flax, and hemp. German paste, hard-boiled eggs, mealworms, &c., must, of course, be regu- larly supplied to one and all of the soft-billed birds; indeed, with the exception of meal- worms (which linnets, goldfinches, canaries, &c., will not eat), one general food will be relished by the whole colony. Fresh water should, in all cases, be given daily, the cages cleaned regularly, and the food looked to every morning. For the rest, Mr. Clifford will give the fullest information to all requiring it. We expect, now, to hear cf many a family interesting themselves in this matter. It costs so little, gives so little trouble, is so grati- fying to the lovers of nature—-and vet is so important in its united results! By going at once to the “Brooklyn Society,” on landing, the end sought is immediately attained. 'The reward will be ample, even if delayed; for the fields will anon resound with songs of melody, and the air ring with the voices of some of the happy choristers to * To afford every facility for this, we have spoken on the subject to Mr. Cuirrorp, 24, Great St. Andrew Street, Holborn, of whom the birds were purchased which have been already safely landed in New York. Mr. Clifford will provide both store-cages, birds (male and female), food, mealworms, &c., &c., and give all needful infor- mation to any inquirer. He will procure either one, two, or fifty pairs of birds; but due notice should, of course, be given him, in order that the birds may be purchased at a reasonable rate. whom has been given liberty in a strange land. We have already recorded the fact that all birds taken over are now rigorously pro- tected by law (see p. 213), and their nests also. This is encouraging. Moreover, all new-comers will now find themselves in the company of their own tribes ; who, no doubt, will greet them with a hearty welcome. Our correspondent has asked us if the hen robin will feed her young in confinement ? She will not only feed her own young, but the young of a dozen other nests. Her affection is without limit or parallel during the breeding season. She will bring up canaries, or any young birds. The hen sky- lark, too, is of a very affectionate turn; but being naturally timid, she is not to be so much depended upon as the hen robin. Nests of young birds might easily be taken out if desired ; but we see no occasion. for this, as old birds may always be procured (when taken in quantities) at as low prices; and there might be some difficulty in the young birds getting their living. Here we leave the matter for the present ; feeling sure that we shall often be called upon to record many a pleasing fact con- nected with our English feathered friends abroad. We may even be tempted to go over—and hear them ! Meantime,—success to the great under- taking ! say we. TO MARY — —— Dear Mary! though these lines may fade, And drop neglected in the dust, Yet what I wish, my little maid, Will surely come to pass, I trust. May all that’s purest, rarest, best, Be imaged ever in thy heart ; And may thy future years attest Thee innocent, as now thou art ! Fair seem the flowers, fair seems the Spring, Bright shines the sun—the starry band; Life flies, with inexperienced wing, O’er blooming fields of morning-land. But where yon rosy summit glows Do not attempt th’ aspiring flight ; For storms those painted clouds enclose, And tempests beat yon glittering height. Ah! no—the illusive wish forego ; This precept learn, by Nature given,— From mountains’ tops we gaze below, But in the vales we look to Heaven. Then be thy guide the golden Truth ; Keep thou thy heart serene and young ; And in thy age, as in thy youth, THOU’LT STILL BE LOVED AND STILL BE SUNG. Q. KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. PHRENOLOGY FOR THE MILLION. No. XLIX.—PHYSIOLOGY or tue BRAIN. BY F. J. GALL, M.D. (Continued from Page 231.) In THE CASE WHERE THE QUALITIES and faculties, common to animals, and, at the same time, those proper to man, are equally active, there will thence result men who find themselves placed between the animal and man. They are stimulated by the one, and warned by the other; often degraded by the one, and often elevated by the other. They are great in vice, and great in virtue; In many respects they are excellence or wisdom itself. In many respects, also, they are subject to deplorable failmgs and vices. The most opposite qualities often make of them the most problematic beings; such were Louis XI, Charles V., Philip IL., James II., Catherine de Medicis, who, though under the influeuce of a superstitious devoticn, were the scourge of their subjects. These are the persons who experience, in the most sensible man- ner, the struggle of two beings at war within them. Such were Socrates, St. Paul, St. Augus- tin; who, having the most vivlent combats to sus- tain, may claim the most glorious prizes of virtue. When one or some of the qualities or faculties, whether animal or human, possess extraordinary energy, witile the others are only moderate, there hence results great genius; great talents in a par- ticular sphere of action, or certain propensities, good or bad, predominating over the rest. These talents and propensities constitute the character of the individual; and such a man will have the more difficulty in resisting their impulse, as the other forces, moral and intellectual, are less active. You have the musician, the mechanic, the poet,—all exclusive and ardent in their pursuits; but you have also the debauchee, the bravo, the robber, who, in certain cases, are passionate to such a degree that the excessive activity of these propen- sities degenerates into actual madness, and deprives the individual of all power to restrain them. You see, on the contrary, apathies and partial imbecilities—when, by the side of other qualities and faculties sufficiently well marked, one or a few organs are very little developed. With such an organisation, Lessing and Tischbein detest music: Newton and Kant have a horror of women. Finally, in the sixth class is found the crowd of ordinary men. But as the organs common to the animal occupy the greatest part of the brain, these men remain limited to the sphere of animal quali- ties ; their enjoyments are those of sense, and they never produce, in auy respect, anything remarkable. These six principal divisions are confounded by a thousand modifications, as happens to all the great divisions of nature. We know that the or- ganisation is rarely so fortunate, as to give to the faculties of a superior order the almost certain power of impressing a favorable direction on the inferior faculties. We may, then, admit as a truth, established by the laws of organisation, that, among men, a very small number would find, in themselves alone, the force, or sufficient motives to make a law for themselves, to determine them- selves to acts conformable to the dignity of the noblest propensities, sentiments, and faculties of man. 291 This would be the place to discuss the question —which of the two is the more virtuous man, he who does praiseworthy actions only from natural character, or he who has always temptations to withstand ? I have already answered this question in treat- ing of moral liberty. In fact, there is no real virtue, as Cardinal Polignac says, ‘“ except when the will, subjected to tle empire of reason, arrests the irregular movements of the heart, calms the tumult of the passions, quells their revolt, and subjugates them; a painful victory, and often the price of the greatest efforts. But the greater the self-denial and the sacrifice, the more elevated and sublime is the virtuous act.” Such is the judgment dictated by justice and reflection. But in this, as in every thing, it is not reason, but obscure feelings, which determine our conduct, and render us all, without our suspecting it, habitually unjust. Beauty, youth, strength, riches, are everywhere admired and sought; while ugliness, old age, weakness, poverty, are con- demned to the most afflicting privations. In the same manner, we give to the man naturally vir- tuous, as by instinct, all our esteem, all our admi- ration; while the most approved and the severest virtue of the man in whom we know the existence of a natural propensity to vice, always appears suspicious; Application of my Principles to Man, considered as the Object of Education. After what I have now said, it will no longer be objected to me, that the innateness of moral quali- ties and intellectual faculties involves the useless- ness of education, morality, religion, legislation, punishment, reward. The conviction must have been acquired, that these institutions are indis- pensable ; that in order to determine men to legal, noble, and virtuous acts, and in order that they may determine themselves to such acts, we must develop and cultivate internal means, and multiply and fortify external motives. Pascal has well observed, that one of the most essential advan- tages of the Christian religion is, that it thoroughly understands human nature; that is, all which is great, and all that is miserable in man, and that it presents to him the purest motives. In fact, the more numerous, noble, and strong, are the mo- tives, the more will man be enlightened as to his real interest, and the more disposed to make a good choice of his actions. We shall facilitate the resistance to certain too active propensities with the more success, the earlier the task of repressing them is commenced ; and by an education appro- priate to the individual, and commenced from infancy, we shall give more facility of acting, and more energy to the superior propensities, feelings, and faculties, and render the idea of the fatal results of immoral actions more lively and more habitual. What is the education, public or private; what is the legislation, criminal or civil ; what are the measures of government; what are: the institu- tions, social aad religious, which give to nations the most virtue, industry, and, consequently, happiness; which engender the fewest vices and crimes, the least persecution, intolerance, atrocities, corruption of domestic manners, trouble, and war- fare? The solution of these problems would be 292 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. worthy of the best friends of humanity. Ah! how would the result, obtained in the history of all times, confound those men of darkness, who are ignorant and perverse enough to desire and to order the interdiction of knowledge, and the degradation of nations !—who, jealous of the happiness of their fellow-men, substitute for the instruction proper to each condition, for the religion and morality of the Gospel, superstition, prejudices, sterile dogmas and ceremonies, monkish charlatanism, &c. ; means of extinguishing in every man a sense of his dignity and his rights, and of lording it, with little wisdom over dupes and slaves, as vicious as ignorant! Compare civilised with barbarous times ; com- pare the list of horrors committed among barbarous nations, or, which comes to the same thing, among the ignorant and superstitious! Their false devo- tion, and their vaunted innocence of manners, will make us shrink with dismay. Who does not know, that these horrors diminish in proportion as know- ledge, civilisation, a pure religion, freed from fanaticism, are more generally diffused ? In the prisons, of which we have visited a very large number, we have satisfied ourselves that the greatest part of the criminals were born in pro- vinces, and in those conditions of life, in which instruction and education, moral as well as civil, are the most neglected. In the same manner, the bands of ferocious brigands who spread terror in Holland, and on the banks of the Rhine, were composed of individual vagabonds, nourished in superstition, but deprived of all positive instruc- tion. “Why has not Heaven,” said Baron Cuvier to the tribunal of legislators, “given me that elo- quence of the heart which you admire in your venerable colleague, M. Laine? How would I depict to you the difference between the poor child who has received no instruction, and the one who has been fortunate enough to obtain it? You speak of religion; but how can one preserve reli- gious ideas without establishing their influence over him by reading ? You say that misery pro- duces more wretches than ignorance; but is not ignorance itself a source of misery? And the domestic virtues; how are they favored by the habit of reading! Is not the most indifferent book a better and more moral amusement than the tavern and the debauch ?” The most perfect institutions, it is true, cannot cause crimes and enormities to cease altogether. Yet, we have a right to expect, from good educa- cation, a great diminution of moral evil. When we reflect how often it happens to individuals of the lower classes, to be educated without care, or to be imbued only with prejudices and supersti- tion,—we are astonished that more evil is not committed; and are forced to acknowledge the natural goodness of the human race. A thousand unhappy circumstances are combined to spread the most dangerous snares for the man born in the lower class of the people. Plunged in profound ignorance, deprived of all that might have formed the qualities. of his mind and soul, he has but very inexact notions of morality and religion: even the obligations of society, and the laws, are generally unknown to him. Solely occupied with earning his bread,’ gross and noisy amusements, gaming and drunkenness, make him a prey to base and violent passions : on all sides he is surrounded by SLIT Rn eae aceon teeta an ERS a temptations, lies, prejudices, and superstition: he is constantly told of pretended sorcerers, conjurors, treasure finders, magicians, interpreters of dreams, expounders of cards: he has placed before his eyes lotteries, and all sorts of games of chance, which take the last mouthful of bread from thousands of famished children. ‘These are scourges, of which a friend to humanity cannot, without horror, fore- see the eternal duration! How many domestic miseries, how many suicides, larcenies, secret rob- beries,—flow from these fatal sources ! A mere prejudice is often the cause of the most horrible actions. Some years since, a man killed the neighbor of his deceased uncle, for the purpose of avenging the illness and death of his uncle ; the effects, as he said, of the machinations of the neighbor, whom he regarded as a sorcerer. A mother killed and roasted her child, that the fat of this innocent creature might serve to cure the rheumatic pains of her husband. A band of robbers thought to expiate the most atrocious murders by muttering some paternosters over their victims. Iltis Jacob regarded the murder which he com- mitted on his wife, as entirely effaced, as soon as he had ordered some masses to be said for her and for himself. [History of Schinderhannes.] In such occurrences, I regard those at the head of public instruction as accomplices and abettors of the crime. What ministers of religion, what shep- herds are they, who can suffer their flock to wander thus? With a view to such considerations, those sove- reigns who have conceived the noble and generous wish of giving good morals to their subjects, and securing their happiness, have always favored public instruction, the teaching of morality and religion, the arts and the sciences. The Gospel has recommended to us, to let our light shine among men, and to proclaim the truth in a loud voice.* The apostles and fathers have regarded ignorance as the source of all evils. We ought to say, for the honor of the age in which we live, that most states distinguish them- selves by establishing excellent schools. In several places there is even given to adults, who have been neglected, the same education as to children. Schools have been founded for the instruction of teachers. Persons who wish to marry, are re- minded of what belongs to the physical and moral education of children, and the duties of marriage. Governments have begun to cause excellent tracts to be written on morality and education; reduced to the form of tales and romances, and adapted to the understanding of the lower classes and designed for gratuitous distribution among them. This is not the place to describe all the useful establishments we have seen; but I cannot refrain from giving to M. Berens, of Copenhagen, that venerable philanthropist, my tribute of respect. This excellent man had founded two seminaries of education, to which children of the lowest class were admitted. Not only were they instructed gratuitously, as in the five other public schools of Copenhagen, but their meals were furnished them also. In the morning, on entering the school, they had to wash; then they breakfasted, then received their lessons in reading, writing, and other branches of knowledge for which they exhibited any incli- * St. Matt. v. 16. St. Mark iv. 21. SR a act A Ao RD A EE RS ERT nation. In the periods. of recreation, they were exercised in gymnastic games. After this, the boys were taught trades and mechanical arts; and the gir's were instructed in sewing, embroidery, and divers domestic works. In the evening, after sup- labor belonged to the establishment. The sick were attended gratuitously by Doctor Wendts. How many benefits did this institution not produce! It afforded means to poor parents to devote them- selves to their occupations, from which they were no longer detained by the care of their children. These, on the other hand, were accustomed to neatness, order, economy, to labor and social life ; their moral and intellectual qualities were formed; they even sought, by edifying hymns, music, &c., to give more delicacy to their sentiments. re In general, all establishments, where indi- viduals who are in want find employment, also merit the greatest commendation ; but if there do not previously exist in these individuals a habit of gaining their living honestly, the end of these institutions is only in part attained. In fact, either these individuals do not resort to these work-houses, or the police is obliged to employ coercive means to withdraw them from idleness. The wisest regulations cannot always have suffi- cient influence ; because men accustomed to idle- ness find, without ceasing, an infinity of subter- fuges to escape the measures of the best regulated administration. With a rude people, the magistrates are com- monly obliged to command and to forbid, what they must do, and what they must not. In revenge, the people elude these arbitrary orders of their superiors whenever they think they can do it with impunity. But when a man has re- ceived previous education, he generally holds a better regulated course, and submits himself to tke laws and regulaticns with less repugnance. The authorities act, then, in conformity to human nature, when they join to the ordinances, motives which oblige them; because then, even in the eyes of him to whom they might appear oppressive and arbitrary, all appearance of constraint is with- drawn. On the other hand, a benevolent legis- lation will avoid multiplying laws; knowing that, as St. Paul says, the more laws the more sins. Application of my Principles to Man, considered as an object of Correction and Punishment. volumes. I am, therefore, obliged to limit myself to describing the grounds on which our conduct towards malefactors should rest. our determinations, legislators, as well as moral- ists, have confined themselves exclusively to the will. Under this expression, they imagined to themselves, as it were, a peculiar being, and rendered independent of the organisation of the sex, of the constitution, &c. At most, it was only the age of minority which they considered as deserving some consideration. Did the man show an evil disposition ? it was because he willed it. Did he do evil? it was that he had strongly wished to do it. Little was thought of the difference which exists between the propensities and the voluntary determination ; still less of the various motives, internal and external, which To treat this subject pertinently; would require | Not being well informed ow the true sources of | KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ping, they returned home. ‘The proceeds of their | 293 cause this determination. Delicts and crimes have been considered in themselves, without regard to the wants and the position of the indi- vidual who was their author. To change the will of malefactors, it was long thought sufficient to inflict penalties. Hence everywhere resulted criminal laws, which only go to determine what are the culpable actions; and to fix for each of these material acts. a proportionate punishment, but always the same, whatever the difference of the individual acting. The aggravating or extenu- ating circumstances are rather sought in acci- dental. external things, than in the peculiar position, or the internal state of the malefactor. If any one wishes to bring back this defective legislation to principles-founded on the nature of men; if he prove the existence of innate propen- sities, and that man no more has the choice of possessing propensities, more or less imperious, than of having talents more or less decided; that these propensities are one of the main springs of our actions—-immediately they go to the opposite extreme. Ifthe evil propensities are innate, say they, there is no longer any culpability in vice and in crime. No one can prevent himself from doing evil; and a criminal has only to say that he has such or such a propensity, to excuse all his actions, and secure himself from every accusation. My readers are sufficiently prepared for me to leave to them the refutation of this language. They must also be convinced, that if men were left to themselves, they would not all find within, motives equally numerous and equally powerful for doing good, and avoiding evil. They know that propensities exist, whose excessive activity con- stitutes unlawful inclinations ; whose abusive action leads to evil: they know also every man is not morally free to an equal extent, and that con- sequently every man, when the question relates to internal culpability, is not equally culpable, although the material act and the external guilt are the same thing. The same action may be in- different in one man, while in another it becomes the object of moral responsibility. Thus the same - action, which for one is a subject of blame and just punishment, in another is only a subject of com- passion. To appreciate the degree of internal criminality, it is necessary to measure accurately the influence of age, sex, the state of health, the moral con- dition, and a thousand other circumstances present at the moment of the illegal act. But by whom is this state: of things so well known, that maz can pass a uniformly equitable judgment on the merit and demerit of his fellow-men? This is possible only to that Being who searcheth the reins and the heart. This, if the question is. in relation to the exercise of justice in its strictest sense, we must. refer to God alone. All wise legislation, therefore, ought to renounce the pretension of exercising justice. It ought to propose an end which it is possible to attain, and which secures the good of the citizens in par- ticular, and that of society in general. This end ought to be, so far as the nature of man permits, to prevent delicts and crimes; to punish male- factors ; and to place society in security as respects those who are incorrigible. This is all which can reasonably be required from human institutions. How ean we attain this end? | OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. DECEMBER. *Tis now the tempest cloud of WrnTrEr lowers, Frosts are severe, and snow-flakes not a few— Lifting their leafless boughs against the breeze ; Forlorn appear the melancholy trees ! ‘How “oxp Timm,” with his sickle, does stride along—carrying all before him! Here are we, on the very verge of a new year ; which, ere our festivities shall have hardly commenced, will burst upon us almost un- looked-for. “ Tempus “fugit!” said the ancients. ‘“ Tumpus fugit!” say we. About this time last year (sce Vol. IL, p. 305), we gave birth to an article entitled ‘The Coming Season and its Charming As- sociations.” In this, we embodied so much of the feelings, duties, and pleasures peculiar to the season of ‘Christmas, that we do not intend to go over the same ground again. We may just mention, however, that the article we allude to quite immortalised Our JOURNAL, both at home and abroad! Thou- sands upon thousands of copies flew like lightning all over the world; and if ever anybody had reason to be (allowably) proud of public opinion, wE were that body. Why did we create such aremarkable impression? Simply, because we gave utterance to the purest feelings of our nature. At this season, be it known, we always become positively “young” again; and therefore write with the freshness of youth. We love to see people happy, united, social, kind, tender—affectionate. Therefore is it that we woo them to be natural; and once a year at least to lay aside the cold formalities of the world, and the conventional mask that so disfigures their features. We meet many of these worldly performers at Christmas, and never fail to unmask them. Where wi are, they must ‘ come out.” They cannot laugh—eh? Cannot enjoy such childish follies—eh ? Canthey not? They shall! Think’st thou, because thou art virtuous* There shall be no more cakes and ale! Bah! Mr. Longface. Give in at once. We will have all your family under the misseltoe anon ; and make them blush for their parents. They, as Capt’n Cuttle says, shall, meanwhile, “stand by!” Neither shall we speak here of the Christ- mas Tree. Zhat, in its minutest details, is included in the article above referred to, and has “set many a table in a roar.” It will have a similar effect, no doubt, this year—tor we feel sure many thousands more will read it. It is odd, yet true, that we ourself can, over and over again, read it; and enjoy it each time better than ever. Such power is there in Nature, to work upon the better eee) EUPET EG Mee Se Py) SAN OE RIE eR ee SE * Strait-laced, unnatural, righteous over much. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. feelings of the human heart! We are not all radically bad; but we do accumulate much rust during the year. It is this rust that we want to polish off, so as to begin the new year well. Much lies before us. Let our duties be well and efficiently performed ! We have not allowed the month of No- vember to pass by without enjoying, out-ol- doors, the lingering’ but indescribable beauties of the season. The sun has been shining gloriously upon us; and has gilded many a distant prospect; lending a kind of enchantment to the passing scenes around us. On these we shall not dwell to-day, much as our heart would desire it. Itwould be out of season. Suffice it to record, what will daily become more and more visible— that Winter is now fast. closing his cloud- canopy over all nature. His remaining duty is—to breathe forth that sleep-compelling breath which is to wrap all things in a tem- porary oblivion. This is as essential to their healthful existence, as is the active vitality which it for a time supersedes. Thus much for out-of-door delights, in which we cannot expect to find much sym- pathy in the first month of Winter. Dear, dearer than ever are they to us; and we will enjoy them “alone.” But we are in DECEMBER. Perhaps of all months, in the dull season, December is the dullest. This from a multitude of reasons. The air grows chilly, the days shorten, fogs obscure the atmos- phere, and the gardens look bare and cheer- less. Nor do we fail, ere the month departs, to see something of Winter. But even then there is much to admire :-— The Winter’s cheerful fire-side eve : its bright, And crisp, and spangled fields in morning frost ; Its silent-dropping snows, its pelting showers, The mighty roaring of its tempests. Now is the time to ramble forth, and, by means of a brisk walk, to throw a healthy tint upon the cheek. No crowding yet round large fires: roasting one side, while the other is half frost-bitten. Exercise, good people, exercise is the secret of health. The blood wants. a proper and natural circulation. Boiling it does it no good whatever. But ‘‘ Lord Mayor’s Day” has passed ; and a wonderfully fine, bright day it was for the scene of gluttony at the City banquet! We have heard, by the way, that this is expected to be the Jast of these disgusting processions. Let us hope so. They are a national dis- grace. ‘The late awful accidents, too, at- tended by such a sad loss of lives; these surely ought to plead for a termination of such annual devilries. Wesaid in our last, that this was the signal for coming festivities. It isso. Every day, subsequently, has led to preparations for grand spreads. Eating and drinking are now the order of the day—and KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 295 night. We must draw a curtain over the bestiality. Now, do Mammas look anxiously forward to the return of their boys from school. Now, do the boys begin to “notch off” the lingering days that intervene between them and the time for “breaking up.” Now do school-books begin mysteriously to lose their covers; and all sorts of sly tricks to be played off on the masters and ushers—‘ no- body”’ being the offender (as usual). Now, do the London shopkeepers begin to bait their traps, to tempt the curiosity of passers-by. Grocers look plum-y, and bakers crumby; we returning the compli- ment by looking crusty at the rise in bread. And then, note the tempting caps and ribbons stealing daily into the windows ! What a little darling is that Cerise neck- tie; with its centre ornament! “ Shouldn’t I like to have it!” softly sighs a pretty innocent face, as it ambles by. ‘“Shouldn’t I like to give it you!’ breathes a voice, heard only by the owner of that innocent face. A blush and a smile join issue. Two people look happy, and flit merrily onward. ‘The day is crisp, the air clasping ; long faces daily-grow shorter; and “ coming events cast their shadows before.’’ Surely “There’s a better time coming, boys ;”’ and it is not very far off. Smiles out-weigh frowns already, and there are bustling indications of hilarity and universal good humor. Already, too, do we see large quantities of those lovely red berries, so indicative of the joys of Christmas. The holly signifies “ foresight.” ‘‘ And what are those curious-looking white berries, which seem to accompany the holly everywhere? We mean those— yonder, growing upon branches whose leaves are oblong lance-shaped; the stems forked, and the heads of the flowers seated in the axils of the leaves.” ‘““Oh, Sir, those berries.”* “Thank you, kindly. quite out of our line. out of curiosity.” ““T dare — say — you—did, Sir! Most people are very ‘ curious’ at Christmas time ; and some particularly so.” Such a dialogue has, ere now, passed between ourself and a fair vendor of these annual delectabilities in Covent Garden Market. The look of that fair maiden is alone wanting, to complete a very comic picture. She, we, and some half-dozen are called misseltoe They are, then, We merely asked * Misseltoe is emblematical of ‘ obstacles to be overcome.” It is significant,—very. other by-standers, formed a “remarkable” tableau vivant. But we must not anticipate all the fun that is yet behind the scenes. Let the curtain fairly draw up, and no doubt the actors and principal performers will be preter-plu- perfect. “ Rehearsals” are not absolutely necessary; albeit they do occasionally take place under certain circumstances. A—hem! Ere Christmas arrives, we shall have many snug little evening parties, no doubt. And here let us, at parting, urge upon one and all the necessity there is, if we would be truly happy ourselves—not to forget the pressing wants of certain individuals who are debarred the comforts we enjoy. They see all that is going on without. They have appetites— more craving, perhaps, than ours. Many of them are houseless—penniless. We must not let these be altogether destitute of our hospitality. A trifle from each of us will do ‘“ something.” Many a heart-ache have we had, whilst observing these poor shivering wretches peering in at an attractive window filled with all the delicacies of the season. ‘The night, perhaps, has been bleak, the wind keen and cutting; and they, destitute of needful clothing. The next day has brought a similar scene. Indeed, there are always crowds of these poor wretched creatures visible, when eating, drinking, and feasting become a national custom. We will not do more than throw out ‘‘a hint’’ on this matter, as we feel sure none of us will enjoy our Christmas dinner one whit the less for having made a fellow-creature jolly for the nonce. “It isa faint heart that never rejoices; ” and there is a time for us all to sing,—even though it be “ small :’?— So, Welcome—Curistmas, to thy hallow’d reign, And all the social virtues in thy train! Strike up! and bid the sprightly harp resound, To-bless the hours with genial plenty crown’d. "Tis ours the gay domestic joys to prove— The smiles of peace, festivity, and Lover. SUGGESTIONS BY STEAM. WHEN woman is in rags, and poor, And sorrow, cold, and hunger tease her ; If man would only listen more, To that?small voice that crieth—‘‘ Kase her !” Without the guidance of a friend, Though legal sharks and screws attack her ; If men would only more attend To that small voice that crieth—‘ Back her !” So oft it would not be his fate, To witness some despairing dropper In Thames’s tide, and run too late To that small voice that crieth—‘‘ Stop her!” Tom Hoop.-° ———————_. 296 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A DOG—No. XIX. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. (Continued from Page 236.) I srr pown To-pay, my dear friend, with quite a light heart—your visit to us has done me so much good! To see you enjoy yourself as you did, and come out so truly “jolly,”—is it ‘not infectious ? I have been singing (in my way), ever since you left us ; and your parting song, “Pop goes [Fino,—he quiet !] the Weasel,” and its variations, has fairly doubled me up. Touching that sparkling ale, and that cigar (a Regalia)—I will “say” nothing; but you really are a funny fellow. You make even a dog merry! This by the way ; and now to business. I am sitting on the chair yow used, and am writing with a gold pen. It was about the month of October, some years ago, that a very curious scene took place at our old residence at Cour. I really fancy I can see the whole occurrence over again. So droll is it that I really must record it, pro bono. The weather was very different there to what it has been lately here. Until you came amongst us, I had some trouble to keep up my spirits. I really believe if we have much more miserable, rainy, drizzly weather, I shall positively die of ennut. I have not been able to put my nose out of doors even for a few moments, just to get a mouthful of fresh air (so necessary to the healthful existence of both man and dog), without its being bespangled with little rainy globules, like the dew on a sprig of myrtle. This may be all very pretty to look at, but it is very disagreeable to feel. Ihave not yet become a convert to the fancies of the man- monkey—nor dog-monkey either. Otherwise I should not be able to sniff in a bubble of fresh air during the whole day, without having my mous- tachioes converted by the soaking rain into some- thing like a mass of soft silk. This would have a very un-dog like appearance ; and you know, my dear friend, I am rather proud of my personnel. Parading about the garden is all very well for lanky, light greyhounds; but for a dog with any- thing like a corporation to carry about with him, It 1s out of the question. I should sink in about three inches, each time I put a foot off the gravel path ; and then, only think what a bother after- wards to rub my coat in comfortable order again, and to polish up my dirty boots (for I have not a par to change), before I can go and occupy my favorite place,—stretched at full length before the parlor fire, to the exclusion of any one else who wishes to feel the benefit of it, as well as myself. The only creature I allow to enjoy a bit of the fire as well as myself, is that great black cat you were nursing. I have certain ‘“ good reasons” for this act of condescension, which I do not consider absolutely necessary to make public; although I have no objection, to tell you that the said blacky 1s owner of some uncommonly-sharp claws. A powerful fellow, too, is he; and if I refused him my tail for his pillow, he might seize it rather more forcibly than I like. So, to avoida dis- turbance, with my usual good humor, (what a sweet-tempered dog I am!) I keep quiet and let him do as he likes. If it were any other cat, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. however, my ire might be raised; and then I certainly would not answer for what might be the consequence. I have played with more than one cat in my life; and after hunting a cayon, I think hunting a cat is about the next best sport. Un- fortunately they have such elastic backs! They bound up a tree in no time, and then,—adieu! I have often wished Zhad such an elastic back. I would soon be after them, instead of being obliged (fox and crow fashion) to remain watching at the bottom of the tree until my patience is fairly exhausted. Often have I been obliged to sneak away with a sulky growl! This episode about the weather has almost made me forget what I was going to say. You must know that—used tothe simplicity of a country life as my master is, he was in the habit of arranging various kinds of amusements for the younger members of the family; and it so hap- pened there was a nice lawn at the back of our residence at Cour. Here archery, cricketing, &c., were daily practised. Hntre nous, I used gene- rally to keep at a respectable distance when these operations were going on—for I had no fancy to receive a cricket-ball on the head, or an arrow between the ribs; and I don’t think you would have liked it either. Well, that was not all. There was pistol shooting,—a regular Tir. And it was the estab- lishing this Z%r which caused all the hubbub I am going to tell you about. My old master, in perfect ignorance that it was necessary to have a legal license to fire pistols (even m his own garden), had marked out a perfectly-safe and convenient spot for this purpose, and there a regular target was mounted. Jean (and some- times his brother) was always there to declare the crack shots. At a short distance from this target, and sideways therefrom, were the large back-gates of the country house. These were always padlocked and strongly barred. They were high enough to prevent any one seeing over them; and being amusingly spiked all along the top, it was not a very easy matter to get in. Well; this shooting had gone on more or less for several days, and had excited the cupidity of a dirty, halfstarved, rural policeman. But how was he to know what was going forward? His only legal method was to ring at the front bell, state his suspicions, and claim his right to satisfy himself. If all had gone according to his wishes, he would have got half the fine to which Bombyx would have been condemned,—say about sixty to eighty batzen, according to circumstances (7s. 6d. to 10s.) Unluckily, in bis eagerness to handle the money, he overstepped his duty, threw the game into Bombyx’s hand, and was completely ‘check-mated. The great donkey! would you believe it? He borrowed a short ladder, put it up against the back-door, and raised himself sufficiently high to see over. He was observed, though! Quick as thought Bombyx whispered,—“ Keep on firing, and make plenty of noise.” Then slipping gently and quietly up to the back-gates, he removed the padlock, silently removed the iron bar, and (as he expected) my friend was soon up again, with his two elbows resting on the top of the gate. There was his pencil in one hand, and his memo- randum-book in the other! At this happy KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. juncture, Bombyx pushed open the door. Down came my friend,—ladder and all, sprawling in the garden. His hat fell some yards before him, and his book and pencils went flying in opposite directions. His nose was flattened, his coat torn between the spokes of the ladder, his hands were scratched, and he himself was a bleeding object ! There he was, a neat specimen of a policeman! Had he taken the hint and departed quietly, all would have ended here; but, no! scarcely was he on his legs again before he began to use most abusive language to Bombyx,—winding up his harangue by calling him a vilain, gros cochon d’ Anglais, and put himself en position to shew fight. hand, and the ladder in the left, he made them embrace each other for a few minutes, in a most unpoliceman-like fashion. He then dragged the offender, wriggling like a fish on a hook, up to the target. This he also made him embrace, and then desired him to go about his business. Here again all might have ended, but the fellow would not yet be quiet! He insulted Jean, who, thinking he already had got sufficient, only stroked his nose at him, and advised him to walk away quietly, and look after some othergame. Once again was he summarily told to walk off; but there the idiot stood, still insulting Bombyx. Upon this, determined to put an end to such folly, I seized him by the pendant tail of his coat, and fairly shook him out of the place. The gate was then closed, and he left—to ‘his meditations.” Tt was lucky for this chap that Carlo was absent, on ,some business of his own in the town. Very fortunate for us, too, was it that Jean happened to be present. The best of the joke, however, is yet to come. Our worthy, having recovered his thoughts, went up to the Municipal Court, and lodged a complaint against Bombyx. Now, it so happened that the only person there present, to receive his complaint, was Mr. H——n; and Bombyx was perhaps the best customer he had. Mr. H. was a pianoforte and musical instrument vendor; and Bombyx generally had more than one of his instruments and a quantity of his music ‘on hire.” He also constantly employed Mr. NS} and his wife (Mr. H——n’s son-in-law and daughter). Poor H n! He was quite posed with the Policeman’s complaint; and most heartily wished him further. The man declared “ qu il avait été grossiérement mal-traité, insulté, décapité, trois fois tué, boxré, assommé, roulé dans la boue ; que toutes ses jointures étaient entortillées, sa téte cass€ en mille morgeaux. Entn, qu’ il fit tout estropie et mis hors de combat par Bombyx. En- core, qu’ il avait été saisi, mutilé, devoré, dechiré en mille morceaux—et absolument crucifié par les trois gros chiens de Bombyx.” This was really a very serious and grave charge: and down came the fellow with another policeman, taking, for protection’s sake, the precaution to ring, this time, at the front gate. Jean happened to be in the yard ; and recognised in his companion an old friend. After reading over the precious document, Jean burst out in a roar of laughter, and stroked his nose in double quick time. He then applied a double prise, approached the worthy policeman, and, tapping him on the shoulder, said :— Upon this Bombyx approached him; and | rapidly seizing him by the collar with the right | 297 “ Mest bel et bon, mon cher,—pourtant il y a de la moutarde dedans. Au revoir, Nous allons voir Veffet que ga va produire.” “Do you know anything about this disturb- ance ?”’ said the camarade to Jean. “ Parbleu, owi!”’ said Jean, in a way not to be misunderstood. ‘‘ Nous al—lons—voir—l effet.” And here they departed. Jean now brought the precious document to Bombyx, who wrote to Mr. H n, that he certainly should not take the trouble to walk up to him,—that the man only got half what he deserved for his insolent conduct, and that he begged to return his elegant docu- ment, which was of no use to himself, and might serve Mr. H n as shaving paper the next time he performed on la barba ; and that he particularly recommended him (good advice this, eh?) not to meddle with matters of which he did not under- stand anything. This reply was taken up to Mr. H—n by Jean. When Mr. H n had read it, he asked Jean if he knew anything about the business. “Ah, que si,” replied Jean: et si 7’ai des con- seils &@ vous donner c'est de bien reprimander votre garde champétre.” And then, stroking his nose significantly, he continued,—‘‘ Ht vous ausst. Vous avez tres mal fait de signer une pareille cochonerie. C'est bien sale.” H n could stand this no longer. He saw what was coming, and said to Jean,—‘ Vous direz a Bombyx que Vaffaire, est terminée quant & lui, et que 7 aurai bien soin qwil west plus tourmenté.” ‘“ Vous avez tres bien jugé,” saysJean. “ Bon jour.” How the matter ended between Mr. H—n and the policeman, I never exactly heard ; but I fancy not very satisfactorily. I never met him again without showing my teeth, and this annoyed him very much. Indeed he never met Bombyx without looking furious, and at length he con- cocted a new species of annoyance, in order to be revenged. ‘This, however, terminated in his total discomfiture, as well as that of his stupid dupe. This was accomplished to the great joy of the neighborhood, where they were most thoroughly disliked. Afterwards, Bombyx applied to the Prefecture, and they sent down a Surveyor, who granted him a license for the Tir aw Pistolet, on the very spot which he had himself selected; so that whenever the garde champétre passed the gate, and Bombyx or his friends were amusing themselves, he had his auricular appendages gratified by the cheerful sound; and the souvenir of his well-deserved thrashing was equally gratifying. Besides this, I took good care to point him out to Carlo. So that, between us, he never came by the place without a sulky growl. I observed, too, that he always quickened his monotonous pace, till he was fairly out of sight. It would occupy too much space to describe here the final consequences of this worthy’s re- vengeful trick ; but I will do so (peutétre) in my next. It will be full offun. I may say that it finished like many other silly revengeful tricks. He dug a pit for others and fell into it himself. I will now say Adieu,—au revoir. Remember what you promised us. Christmas will soon be here. I heard all you said, the other evening, about those sparkling red berries,—and the trees, 298 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. and the charades; and “that” little domestic farce in which we were all to “act.” (Enter Fino.) Oh, what fun we will have! J will look after— “The blossom that hangs on the bough.” I did not read Our Eprror’s delightful account of his last year’s Christmas festivities for nothing! [Oh, Frno,—what a very jolly dog you are! “We must be very careful, we find, what we say before you!] Do not let it be long before you and your dear little “ wifey”’ come down again. We must have a grand ‘‘rehearsal,” you know. Fino. Tottenham, Nov. 9. P.S.— What a splendid ‘‘ Lord Mayor's Day!” Iam just going to join the revels. Bombyx is now brushing his hat to accompany me. Hntre nous, the Oup Boy does love me,—just a bit ! PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A DOG,—No. IV. BY ONE OF THAT SUFFERING RACE. (Continued from Page 238.) Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutored mind Sees God in storms, and hears him in the wind ! He thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shull bear him company. PorPE. NEPTUNE, I THINK I TOLD YoU, my dear sir, was, after my rescue, presented to Miss Emily by Major Broadsword. ‘This worthy called next evening to inquire “ how I was ?” Of course, the Major, like most of his cloth, was a gentleman every inch, and very kind to us poor dumb animals ; but you must not suppose for one moment—at least I do not— that he really called to inquire about me. No; like Hamlet, he saw ‘mettle more attractive” in my dear young mistress. Her sweet person it was that he called to see. He found her very unwell, from the un- natural excitement of the previous day. After the expressions of sorrow, usual under such circumstances, the Major took his leave ; and I believe, as an excuse for calling again that day, took Neptune for a swim. Master Albert and Miss Victoria were sent out for a walk with Rosa; and I, much against my will, accompanied them—led by a chain, to prevent my being stolen. Vain precaution! We had not walked a hundred yards along the parade before a large bull-dog bounced upon me, and appeared inclined, albeit he was muzzled, to tear me to pieces. Numbers of people rushed to the spot, but no one ventured to take off this seemingly savage dog. At last, a shabby-genteel sort of man, with his hat over his eyes, stepped forward ; and with well-assumed courage seized him by the tail, and hurled him away from me. Frightened almost to death, 1 kept my eye on the monster, and saw him, a few moments afterwards, jumping up to, and fawning over the hand of that very man who, a short time before, had so roughly used him. It was a piece of consummate acting on his part, as the sequel will show. Although at the moment much alarmed, Rosa was not the girl to allow a contretemps of this sort to pre- vent her making the best of this—her first opportunity in Brighton, to display her face and figure. (I must tell you she did not wear a shroud or “ugly”). And so, after quieting the children, on we walked. “Why” some young officers, when off duty, wear their full uniforms—with spurs and sword hanging and dangling at their heels, used often to be a matter of wonder to me; but that day I discovered at least one purpose. Several times during our walk, there were two of them belonging to the regiment then stationed at Brighton, who passed our party ; yet by a strange coincidence never seeming to re-pass us! Each time of passing, I observed they were apparently very anxious about the mounting of their scabbards. At the third time of passing, one of them stopped and pretended to admire me. t ‘A pretty dog that of yours, Miss!” said the other to Rosa. But it would not do. The ice was not broken. Rosa had seen the same thing done a dozen times in Hyde Park, and expected something “new” in Brighton. So with a “Come, let us go home, my dears,” to the children, she swung me round ; and we were on our way back when we passed two more young bloods. Spank went a sword and scabbard against my poor ribs! But I was so thoroughly terrified by that bull-dog, I cared little for anything now we were on our way home. ‘This caused me not to notice it. Now, as “ faint heart never won fair lady,” and they were ‘“‘sons of Mars,” the fellows were determined to speak to the “divinity with the beautiful eyes,” and I was fixed on as the medium of introduction. They were again passing us; when one of them by a dexterous twist of his heel, managed to drive one of his spurs into my side. I cried out, and he made one of the most polite bows I ever saw, to Rosa; asked her pardon, took me in his arms for a moment, and then entered into conversation with her. Now the ice was broken. This was “quite new” to Rosa, and the chaps really were both very good-looking—so she fell to work in good earnest for a gossip. Poor J was quite forgotten; and dragged on like a culprit behind. But there were those near who did not forget me; for while one of these worthies was amusing the children, and the other the maid (the usual dodge!) the man who an hour before had the bull-dog with him, now crept quietly up to me with a commoner of our race under his arm; and undoing the chain from my collar, very cleverly fastened. it to his poor KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 299 half-bred, half-starved little animal, who, strange to say, followed us quietly—as if it belonged to our party. I was now handed to another man, who immediately rolled me up ina cloth; bending my neck in such a manner that I could not cry loud enough for a person standing close by to hear me. How soon Rosa discovered that I was metamorphosed into a common cur, | know not; nor what took place on her arrival at home; nor how she explained the manner of my abduction. But I had scarcely been examined, and the address on my collar read, before the little actor who had taken my place an hour ago, came scampering into the room. The next thing was to fasten me up in one corner; and now the bull-dog came as docile as a lamb, and laid down by my side. “Now for the crib!” said the shabby- genteel man to his accomplice, a fresh-water sailor, dressed in a pilot cloak. They then both began to unbosom and disgorge their plunder. The one had a lady’s gold watch and guard in his breast. The other a porte mondie, and a massive cable- like Albert chain in his cap. This last, after the application of a liquid they had ina small bottle, was condemned as “ brummagem.” I need scarcely observe, that the watch and chain were Rosa’s; and that the Albert and purse belonged to some looker-on, when the monster actor was playing his part and pretending to worry me. My loss was immediately announced at the police-station ; and a full description given of my color, name, &c.; as also of the way in which I was stolen. But they held out no hope of my recovery to poor Rosa, who was of course in a sad way about it. However, while she was gone to the station, a lady who had lost her dog, and recovered it by paying £10, called on my mistress and volunteered to introduce her to the gentleman who had kindly transacted the “treaty of restore- ment” for her. To his place of business they accordingly went. It was in a fashionable part of the town; and it was the depét for the sale of almost everything that money could be made out of. Moreover, he was a sort of agent to a fashionable tailor. My mistress observed, that she thought it strange a respectable tradesman such as Mr. Parson appeared to be, should be able to do more to recover her stolen dog than any other honest man. But desperation often makes even the most timid speak out. So, after an introduction, she told Mr. Parson the manner in which I was stolen, &c., &c. ; and asked him, as a particular favor, to assist her in my recovery. She remarked that she did not mind what amount it cost; but she must have her dog again, or Miss Emily would break her heart. The respectable old gentleman hereupon bowed; and witha bland smile said, that although it was much against his principles to encourage dog-stealing by paying rewards to these desperate vagabonds,—yet, to oblige her, and the lady who had introduced her, he would endeavor to find the villains’ den, and restore her dog as soon as possible. That very night one of Mr. Parson’s men came to the house where I was, saw, and identified me ; he gave the shabby gentleman £3, and took me to his house. Thence, in the morning, I was taken to the shop for Mr. P. to see, and fix a price upon me. This was soon done; and the man was despatched with a polite note, stating, that by paying the exorbitant demand (£10), asked by the dog- stealer, he had arranged to recover Mrs. Vandelour’s dog. Mr. P.added, he sincerely hoped he should soon be able to bring the scoundrel to justice. With one bound, I jumped out of the man’s arms into those of my dear young mistress. The £10 was paid; and we were all too happy at meeting again ever to care or even think “ who” pocketed the £7, over and above what the thief received ! This is a splendid morning for a ramble; so lam just going with Dr. Kent into the park. 1 will tell you more of my troubles and pleasures anon. With kindest love to dear Fino, and yourself (of course), I remain, yours as ever, November 11th. CHARLIE. KINDNESS, BETTER THAN BEAUTY. My love is not a beauty To other eyes than mine; Her curls are not the fairest, Her eyes are not divine: Nor yet like rose-buds parted Her lips of love may be; But though she’s not a beauty, She’s dear as one to me. Her neck is far from swan-like, Her bosom unlike snow ; Nor walks she like a deity This breathing world below: Yet there’s a light of happiness Within, which all may see ; And though she’s not a beauty, She’s dear as one to me. I would not give the kindness, The grace that dwells in her, For all that Cupid’s blindness In others might prefer ! I would not change her sweetness For pearls of any sea ; For better far than beauty Is ONE KIND HEART TO ME. CHARLES SwaAIN. 300 KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. WOMAN’S MISSION. WE HAVE NOT HESITATED to express our admiration of the women of America, on a multitude of occasions. We consider them very far superior in mind to our own country- women. Indeed, judging from the enormous demand amongst us for sterling American publications, that fact speaks for itself. We only regret that ‘“ fashion” so strictly pro- hibits our English women being possessed of amind. It would seem to be, and evidently is, aheinous crime. Vainly does one seek, now-a-days, for a “ companion” in the fair sex. She is “all out-side.” We speak not of our “clever women,” ““ blue-stockings,” &c. These wandering stars are, for the most part, as “empty” as the rest, because they step out of their allotted sphere. Purely ephemeral, they are feared, not loved; associated with, but little esteemed. Few of them are amiable in private life ; and for very obvious reasons. We love women to “think ;” to be able to converse; and to have an opinion of their own,—but not to lord it over the public. Their knowledge should not be openly pa- raded; but used, as occasion may offer, in private. Then will they be suitable com- panions for the domestic hearth. The following observations, by Miss Les- lie, an American writer of repute, are well worthy attention. She says, in her “ Manual for Ladies :’— It is very injudicious for ladies to attempt arguing with gentlemen on political or financial topics. All the information that a woman can possibly acquire or remember on these subjects is s0 small, in comparison with the knowledge of men, that the discussion will not elevate them in the opinion of masculine minds. Still, it is well for a woman to desire enlightenment, that she may “comprehend ”’ something of these discussions, when she hears them from the other sex. There- fore, let her listen as understandingly as she can, but refrain from controversy and argument on such topics as the grasp of a female mind is seldom capable of seizing or retaining. Men are very intolerant towards women who are prone to contradiction and contention, when the talk is of things considered out of their sphere; but very indulgent toward a modest and attentive listener, who only asks questions for the sake of infor- mation. Men like to dispense knowledge; but few of them believe that, in departments exclusively their own, they can profit much by the suggestions of women. It is true there are and have been women who haye distinguished themselves greatly in the higher branches of science and literature, and on whom the light of genius has clearly de- scended. But can the annals of woman produce a female Shakspeare, a female Milton, a Gold- smith, a Campbell, or a Scott? What woman has painted like Raphael or Titian, or like the best artists of our own times? Mrs. Damer and Mrs. Siddons had a talent for sculpture; so had Marie of Orleans, the accomplished daughter of Louis Phillippe. Yet, what are the productions of these talented ladies compared to those of Thor- waldsen, Canova, Chantrey, and the master chisels of the great American statuaries ? Women have been excellent musicians, and have made fortunes by their voices ; but is there among them a Mozart, a Bellini, a Michael Kelly, an Auber, a Boildieu? Has a woman made an im- provement on steam-engines, or on anything con- nected with the mechanical arts? And yet these things have keen done by men of no early educa- tion—by self-taught men. A good tailor fits, cuts out, and sews better than the most celebrated female dress-maker. A good man-cook far excels a good woman-cook. Whatever may have been their merits as assist- ants, women are rarely found who are very suc- cessful at the head of any establishment that requires energy and originality of mind. Men make fortunes, women make livings. And none make poorer livings than those who waste their time, and bore their friends by writing and lec- tnring upon the equality of the sexes, and what they call ‘Women’s Rights.” How is it that most of these ladies live separately from their husbands—either despising them, or being despised by them ? Truth is, the female sex is really as inferior to the male in vigor of mind as in strength of body ; and all arguments to the contrary are founded on a few anomalies, or based on theories that can never be reduced to practice. Because there was a Joan of Arc, and an Augustina of Sara- gossa, should females expose themselves to all the dangers and terrors of ‘ the battle-field’s dreadful array?” The women of the American revolution effected much good to their country’s cause, with- out encroaching upon the province of its brave defenders. They were faithful and patriotic; but they left the conduct of that tremendous struggle to abler heads, stronger arms, and sterner hearts. There is sound sense in the view here taken of woman’s capacity, by Miss Leslie. In her own proper sphere,—home, a woman shines supremely bright; but when she dons the masculine, and usurps a power to which she has no just pretension, then does she at once forfeit all claim to love or reverence. THE PRIMROSE IN AUTUMN. Tue solitary Primrose hath come back To haunt the green nooks of her happy Spring. Alas! it is a melancholy thing Thus to return, and vainly strive to track The playmates of our youth! Whither have fled The sweet companions of her vernal hours ? The bee, the infant leaves, the golden flowers, That heard the Cuckoo’s music as he sped O’er hill and dale—whither have they departed ? And the blithe birds—have they too passed away ? All, save the darkling wren, whose plaintive lay Just tells the hermitess is broken-hearted. Go then, pale flower, and hide thy drooping head, For ef eh spring-time friends are changed, or ead. R. F. Housman. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. AN ODE TO DECEMBER. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. Cotp, dark December! Why stalk in so cheer- lessly ? Kind friends are waiting to hail thy return. Dull care is retreating and warm hearts are beating,— a3 ” él ” Then “why” old December, say,‘‘why ” dost thou mourn ? Oh, I have witness’d with grief the departure Of many fair years,—never more to return ! All hope withers fast, when I think on the past ; Alas, for the future,—we’ve that yet 1o learn! Dreary December! nay, talk not so gloomily ; Merry Old Christmas is still in thy train; The joy that he brings, and the songs that he ings Will make us all smile and be happy again. True, Christmas comes with its pastime and plea- sure ; Yet there be many approach him with fear. Though the dance and the song are the first in the throng, Old debts, and long bills, often bring up the rear ! Listen, December! There yet is a pleasure, A feast for the friendless,—a solace for woe ; Oh, let us ne’er cease to breathe tidings of peace, Of joy, and good-will to all mortals below! Though grandeur and greatness may roam from our dwelling, This, this is a blessing that ne’er will remove,— There’s enough, and to spare; e’en the meanest may share, And gain an admission by Faith, Hope, and Love ! CHRISTMAS,—A FRAGMENT. BY T. K. HERVEY. CHRISTMAS brings with it a thousand delights ; and it possesses a thousand uses that minister to our better nature, and de- serve to live in the remembrance of all whom homely joys and homefelt attachments have power to charm. Pleasant recollections return with it; happy hours, passed away indeed, but whose memory is yet green in our hearts, associate themselves with its presence. It is sanctified to our domestic affections ; and the lamp of love would burn but dimly were not the oil of gladness poured into it on anniversaries like these. Our outer world is a cold and cheerless world; it has no soil in which the loves of the heart can take root and flourish; hence when man passes into it, and mingles with its business and its strifes, his affections fade and wither, and too often die. But it is the beautiful use of the festival of Christmas to bring him back again to old thoughts and old associations ; to revive affections that are drooping, and to make him feel how far nobler and better a passion is love than ambition. 301 We have no patience with a world which is beginning to despise its good old customs ; and yet, alack! how are ye fallen, ye merry- makings, and mummings, and masques! Ye had better get to a nunnery, as the Utili- tarians have declared you to be vain and unprofitable—for they cannot extract any per- centage from your existence. Ye neither sow nor reap; ye spin no silk, and ye weave no stockings. Her Majesty cannot tax ye, neither can the Custom House officer make ye profitable to the State. Away then, ye misseltoe bushes, and ye yule-logs! Vanish snapdragon, hot cockles, and wassail! Too long have ye cumbered a commercial world with your profitless presence. Go, and seek some land where folks are uncultivated enough to love homely pleasures and respect olden things. Find out some new people; whose hearts are weak enough to beat with pleasure at your return, and who love ye for the dear associations ye call up. Go to some gpot like this—if ye can find one ; and leave us, who have grown older and wiser than to waste our time in loving or being loved, to the exalted employment of levelling a railroad, or improving a spinning- jenny ! THE AZTEC CHILDREN. THE FOLLOWING VERY INTERESTING RE- MARKS, having reference to the two Aztec children, about whom such a Munchausen tale has been invented, will be read with feelings of curiosity. The writer merely gives his initials: M. H. We copy the article from our excellent contemporary, the Cratic :-— “In the public notices that have appeared on the subject of the Aztecs, as they are called, it seems to be taken for granted that these diminutive and strange specimens of the human race, lately exhibited in London, owe the peculiar shape of their heads to nature, and not to artificial means. The practice, however, of modifying the head in infancy by pressure prevailed so extensively over the American continent, and more par- ticularly in central America, that it is very probable the singular shape of the head exhibited in the race lately imported from America is owing to mechanical contrivance. The case of the Flat Heads and of the Caribs places the existence of the custom beyond all doubt. ‘The practice seems to have pre- vailed along the whole western coast of America, and to have assumed different characteristics in different localities. “Skulls of a peculiar anomalous form were found by Mr. Pentland, in the province of Upper Peru, now called Bolivia, and par- ticularly in the great valley of Titicaca. He 302 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. examined many hundreds of their sepulchres and found that the skull always had the same singular shape. ‘The custom of modi- fying the shape of the head prevailed on the banks of the Columbia, and at Nootka Sound. ‘Among the Columbian tribes, the child, immediately after birth, is put into a cradle of a peculiar construction, and pressure is applied to the forehead and occiput. After the head has been compressed for several months, it exhibits amost hideous appearance : the antero-posterior diameter is the smallest, while the breadth from .side to side, above the ears; is enormous, thus reversing the natural measurement of the cranium. As the individual increases in years, the deformity becomes less; but even in adult persons it is very great. From the excessive depression of the forehead, the eyes appear as if turned upwards—a circumstance which gives a peculiar physiognomy to the Indians. The process is slow and gentle ; so that the child does not appear to suffer in any way from so unnatural a process, nor do the intellectual qualities of the individual appear to be in any way ajjected by zt; on the contrary, a jlat head ts esteemed an honor, and dis- tinguishes the freeman from the slave.’ “These circumstances are sufficient to establish the fact that the human cranium may be distorted by artificial means, and thus render it probable that the skulls of the ancient Peruvians may have been dis- figured by the same process. This opinion is greatly strengthened by other circum- stances. Blumenbach has figured a deformed and compressed Peruvian cranium from Quilea. The form is different from that of the skull represented by Tiedman, and from those of the Indians of North Western America ; but different modes, and different degrees of compression, will produce different degrees of deformity. “Sometimes the pressure was applied diagonally from the left half of the frontal to the right half of the occipital bone. “Tn addition to these facts, we have the testimony of historians and travellers that it was the practice in Peru to compress the heads of their children. De la Condamine informs us that the custom prevails in South America, and that it was known to the Peruvians; and in the year 1585 the Synod of Lima prohibited the custom under pain of ecclesiastical punishment. The edict begins; ‘Cupientes penitus extirpare abusum et superstitionem quibus Indi passim infantum capita formis imprimunt,’ &e. We cannot suppose that a public edict would have been issued against a practice that had no ex- istence. The practice, in fact, appears to have been common amongst all the tribes west of the Rocky Mountains. “The process used for the compression of the head is described as follows :—‘Imme- diately after birth, the infant is placed ina kind of oblong cradle, formed like a trough, with moss under it. The end on which the head reposes is more elevated than the rest. A padding is then placed on the forehead, with a piece of cedar bark over it; and, by means of cords, passed through small holes on each side of the cradle, the padding is pressed against the head. It is kept in this manner upwards of a year, and the process is not, I believe, attended with much pain. The appearance of the infant however, while in this state, is frightful ; and its little black eyes, forced out by the tightness of the bandages, resemble those of a mouse ina trap. When released from the inhuman process, the head is perfectly flattened, and the upper part of it seldom exceeds an inch in thickness. It never after recovers its rotundity. They deem this an _ essential point of beauty, and the most devoted adherent of our Charles I. never entertained a stronger aversion to a Round-head than these savages. They allege as an excuse for this custom that all their slaves have round heads, and, accordingly, every child of a bondsman, who is not adopted by the tribe, inherits, not only his father’s degradation, but his parental rotundity of cranium :” (““Cox’s Travels on the Columbia River.’’) “Another mode of compressure was by placing the infant on a sort of cradle; to the upper end of which, where the head was laid, a piece of thin board was attached by a hinge. The board being brought forward, the pressure on the forehead was gradually increased by drawing the extremity tighter, either by cords or by a weight suspended. By these means the forehead was flattened ; and the head was elongated backward, till brought to a thin edge. In adults, after this process, the nose is represented in the ex- amples given as projecting; a characteristic common among the American tribes gene- rally. ‘“ As to the story of the little Aztecs being objects of reverence, and their being brought from a city cut off from all communication with the rest of the world, and never before known to exist till very lately—as to the mode of capturing them, and the attendant circumstances—these matters must be sub- stantiated by better evidence than the story of an adventurer. The account is altogether improbable ; and, if true, would be a disgrace to any party concerned in it. It has alto- gether the air of a monstrous fiction; dealing in vague generalities, and marking out no particular locality, lest it should lead to detection. . “The only part of the story to be depended upon is, that two little helpless objects have been brought from their native wilds in -idiots. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 303 Scr nrnn' n ce at tttdtIIIEEEISSSSSSSS See Central America, kidnapped or bought to be exhibited in London or elsewhere, to gratify the cupidity of an adventurer: the same furm of head having been known to exist over extensive districts in South America for ages, and being the production of mere mechanical pressure. If imbecility of mind as well as dwarfishness co-exists in these children, the peculiarity of the head may result from mere malformation. The ex- perience of ages tells us, that mere pressure and consequent distortion of the cranium does not produce such a result.”’ We must confess,—so far as WE are able to offer an opinion, that these children are Having seen them several times, our judgment is neither rashly nor hastily formed. A FEW WORDS ABOUT FERNS. THERE YET REMAINS a forlorn hope for the true lovers of Plants, to enjoy the plea- sures of the society of their favorites—even although the luckless wight may not possess an inch of garden-ground or a square of glass. Nature, so truly consistent in all her arrangements, has suited the needle leaves of the mountain pme to the intense light and other extremes of wind and weather that they have to bear. Flowering plants gene- rally require a great deal of light and air, and for these reasons their culture cannot be carried on successfully in the dusky air of cities, where ventilation is necessarily im- perfect ; not to speak of the darkness of small yards enclosed by high walls, whose shadows seldom have room for half their length without encroaching upon their neighbors. Many millions of people have scarce room enough to grow more than a few pots of geraniums. Whatofthat? Let me convey to them the welcome intelligence that nature has yet in store an evergeen plant, of great beauty, systematically adapted to their wants, as I shall proceed to prove. In ordinary window-gardening, the plants get all the light they can by being placed in the window ; and when placed in any other part of the room, they are very soon past all hope of life. A few, such as Ficus elastica, Draceena ferrea rosea, and the like, will bear an immense deal of this kind of ill-usage before they give up; but still their doom is certain death, although protracted. Such being the case, it would confer a great boon upon window-gardening if we could get a stock of plants “ loving darkness rather than the light.” To seek for such, in shady places, has been my business often; and the finest specimens I ever found were located in caves and dens; with a covering of briars and thorns between them and the sun, so thick that I have frequently been unable to get the plants out uninjured from the mass of rubbish that vedled them from the sun. Such is the Scolopendrium vulgare, the commonest of our British ferns, with an entire leaf a foot long and three inches broad, of a fine pea-green color; its fronds remaining un- injured all the winter. I have taken it up by hundreds, and transplanted it into rock- work in the open air. I have cultivated it in a cupboard in-doors, with a borrowed light from an adjoining room, and it has luxurlated under such treatment. But what is of far more importance, it has stood a six weeks’ siege of a London house in the centre of a room, far away from the window, and, without any Wardian case or other costly apparatus, remained highly ornamental to the last.; whilst relays of flowering plants had come and gone and were dead and forgotten the while. A tray let into a table, so that the fronds of the fern may hide the table-top, is all that is needed ; no soil is used, but moist moss, occasionally changed, and the tray of plants occasionally watered overhead in the back-yard. In the transplanting of ferns, I find that what all gardeners have taught us to detest in transplanting other plants is the only safe course; for if we tread upon wet soil and puddle it, it spoils the compost for such as pine-apples and other pot plants, &c.; but for ferns, a thm stratum of rich mud, or puddle, is the only practicable plan of getting their light balls established on a stone or other prop that may be used to hold them up to the eye. This beautiful species of fern will grow in any room, hung on the wall like any other picture ; and wherever there is light enough to let the party read a book, or newspaper, in open day, there the Scolopendrium will do well for years—if allowed plenty of water, as before stated. In an unfinished well, I found this fern growing beautifully ; and as the well was of great depth, I had the curiosity to examine the exact depth where the fern began and ended. At six feet from the surface the soil was either too dry or the site too bleak, for the plants were wanting; but just at such a depth as the back of a twelve-foot living room the plants luxuriated; and at that point where “dark and damp- ness seemed to strive,’ the plants held on; and appeared to enjoy the calm of that lower world better than those who “ cumbered upper air.” I need not comment upon the culture of this plant. The slop-basin is sufficient accommodation for it; and the hole in the bottom, with all the other draining stuff, is quite useless. If hyacinths are worthy of glasses and water, surely a colored tumbler 304 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. could be got for this plant under the title of a fern-glass. At this season of the year (Christmas) the fronds are at their best; and for table ornaments they are unequalled. They are infinitely superior to an unmeaning bunch of cut flowers, with scarcely a green leaf among them, stuck by the footman in the epergne. The principal use of ferns in ornamental gardening, is, to fill up that unoccupied space which has hitherto baffled gardenersto make gay; namely, the shady places under high walls and wide-spreading trees. This is the kind of situation that Nature has chosen for a great number of species of fern; a few certainly there are, like Ceterach, that affect the airy sites of high and dry bare rocks. Still, the settled calm, the shady grove, and the damp atmosphere, are the wedded asso- ciates of the fern family—the dowry of the flowerless tribe.—ALEX. ForsyTH. HINTS TO AMATEUR GARDENERS. THE CALENDAR FOR DECEMBER. ALL OPERATIONS NOW must of course depend upon circumstances. So variable is our climate, that we can lay down no particular instructions beyond the usual routine of daily duties. THE general operations recommended for November apply also to this month, when the weather permits. Trenching, digging, &e. may proceed if the ground is not too wet; in mild weather, transplanting and pruning may be performed ; and in frosty weather, dung may be got on the ground. The store plants in the pit must be kept dry, and have full exposure whenever the weather is fair and not frosty; keep them free from dead leaves or damp litter, and loosen the surface soil in the pots, if it becomes hard or green. Take care that all the plants have perfect drainage. FLOWER GARDEN. Admit Air whenever a chance be given, even a few hours on mild times should not be lost. Antirrhinums.—Protect from hard frosts. Auriculas.—Continue to admit air, and exclude excess of moisture ; have mats or other covering material at command, in case of frosts, that such may be kept well in check—for although the Auricula is hardy, much damage will be certain, if frosts have free play amongst astock that is kept in frames or pits: cold bleak winds are much to be dreaded, but with all these precautions, let no hour be lost, when quiet and mild, to admit free circulation. Soil for potting should be frequently turned to sweeten, and allowed the beneficial influence of frosts; protect from rain. Bulbs.—If any are needed for forcing, some may be placed in a cold frame or green-house, and after into moderate heat. Camellias attend to, and supply with moisture, or the buds will fall off. Carnations. Stirring the surface soil, maintaining thorough cleanliness, and attending to previous directions, is the necessary routine. Chrysanthemums.—If not done towards the end of last month, propagate plants by taking off the suckers breaking up round the plants ; pot- ting them singly in small pots, placing them into a cold frame. Keep the frames close, until the plants are rooted or established, after which, remove the lights entirely. Cinerarias.—Where specimen plants are required for exhibition or otherwise, remove all suckers as they appear, and pinch off the heads of those showing bloom to induce the lateral shoots to push out more freely ; and give plenty of room to specimen plants to prevent weak and one- sided growth. If early flower be required, remove some showing for bloom into the green- house or forcing-house. Composts. Obtain, mix, expose to frosts, protect from wet, and have ready for immediate use at all times. Dahlia roots —See that frosts do not get to; re- move any that show symptoms of decay. F'rames.—Protect plants in, by mats or other covering, against hard weather. Open when weather allows. Greenhouses.—Keep free from damps, and intro- duce the forced flowers as they come. into per- fection. Liliums.—Prepare compost. Pansies must be made secure against heavy winds. Peg down. Pelargoniwms.—The latter end of this month is the time to stop all plants intended for flowering in June; after this is done let them remain moderately dry until they have broken nicely. Stop every shoot, whether long or short; or a straggling head of bloom will be the con- sequence. All shoots that are long enough may be trained out to admit light and air to the middle of the plant. Picotees.—Look to the directions under the head Carnation. Polyanthuses.—Similar treatment as to the Auricula. Protect against severe weather everything likely to be injured. Store-pots, remove from, all fogged cuttings and dead foliage. Tulips—Get your winter covering, hoops, &c., in readiness, that thorough protection from excessive rains or severe frosts may be secured; half-inch iron rods are not only the cheapest in the end by their durability, but by far the neatest forms for hooping that we know; they may be bent to any portion of a circle that may be considered the most desirable, leaving the ends to be forced imto the paths: a simpie pan- tile lath may then be stretched along the entire length of the bed, and secured to the rods by bass or string; this will form an efficient roof on which to place your mats or cloths for the necessary winter protection against heavy rains or severe weather; the mats &c., at all times being wholly removed on mild or congenial days. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 305 A GLANCE AT DAYS OF YORE. A CHRISTMAS DISASTER. BY THE AUTHOR OF PLUM-PUDDING ISLAND. All things are big with jest; that’s plain. Nothing but may be witty,—if thou hast the vein. HERBERT. —_—_— % ULL WELL po I REMEMBER IT! AYE, AS WELL AS IF IT WERE BUT YESTERDAY. I was rolling rapidly along in the Stage- coach, years before Railways and their locomotive salaman- ders distributed the best London smoke in every direc- tion of the country. It was freezing hard ; the sharp clicking of the horses’ hoofs rung in the clear air; while the wheels revolved almost noiselessly. The vehicle was from London, and | was the only passenger. All the rest of the coach was crowded with barrels of oysters, and baskets of fish packed in straw; both inside and out. I never sat in company with so many natives of Col- chester, or of the Dogger-bank, before. It was on the afternoon of Christmas eve. I enjoyed the careless, blithesome spirit of sixteen; and revelled with infinite relish, in the anticipation of a pleasurable visit to a kind-hearted, opulent, fat old aunt. There were to join the party some pretty female cousins, who did not form the least acceptable part of the felicity I expected. Passing a village, the fire in the smith’s forge glowed with a cheerful brilliancy. The blows on the anvil chimed merrily. A string of boys were rapidly following each’ other on a long slide on the frozen horse- pond, from which the ducks had been ejected. These last were loudly quacking in despair at the infringement on their manorial rights. And now, what is the shrill outcry from at least thirty voices? what is the burst of merriment? ‘Tom Pigrum is down on the ice, and a dozen of smock-frocked urchins have tumbled in all directions over him and each other. As the coach goes on, the shouts gradually cease; and we pass the smell sweet and wholesome; as they are munching their evening meal from the hay- racks and turnip-troughs. The hoarse bark of the old watch-dog is heard, as the vehicle approaches the farm-house. The guard mischievously winds a blast on his bugle, which is answered by the mastiff with a lengthened doleful howl. This is succeeded by an incessant yelping from every canine resident on the premises. But stay : here is a basket of fish to be left at the gate; “ Carriage Paid.” All right! Hang the dogs ! As the early shades of night steal on, every twig becomes encrusted with the frozen dew; and the trees and shrubs are disguised in white. I confess to owning, on beholding them, certain anticipations of forthcoming confectionary at the mansion of my hospitable aunt. As the light of day grew more dim, my spirits sank a little; perhaps my appetite, too, required to be satisfied. I whistled the last new air; but I doubt whether it afforded any amusement to my living fellow-passengers, the oysters. It became more chilly ; but i found that if I pulled both windows up, the effluvium from the packed fish was somewhat too potent. I felt the time now to hang heavy on hand ; particularly when the coach stopped at a low cottage, where stood 4 man with a jug of hot elder wine; and coachman and guard dismounting, occupied a good ten minutes in discussing the said comfortable beverage. Mem. I was only a passenger ! By the glare of the coach-lamps I could perceive the four horses smoking, as if a fire had been lighted in each of them. For the next six miles, the poor dumb nags had to make up for the ten minutes’ enjoyment of their merciless driver; and at length I and my portmanteau were safely deposited at the lodge of my aunt’s house. The mansion was ancient and of red brick; with lofty gothic chimneys, and large casemented bow- windows. A sun-dial was conspicuous ; but being partially overgrown with ivy, its utility was superseded by a shrill-toned clock in butcher’s domain glowing in the glory of | front of the out-buildings in the court-yard. prize-fed beef and magnificent mutton. The jomts already ordered by the resident families, left until the last moment on the shambles, as the trophies of the purveyor, are gaily decked with laurel, the bright berry of the holly, and customary inscription, “EYES ON, HANDS OFF.” We are again on a common, skirted by a row of aged and lofty elms. Over the top- most boughs of these, a large colony of rooks are discordantly vociferating, and dis- puting for possession, The sun, a bright ball, is gradually sinking to the horizon. We rapidly pass a straw-yard. The ascending wreaths of vapor from the cattle, Von. IN 90: I was. introduced to the best parlor, | wherein were seated round a ruddy Christmas fire my venerable aunt and the pretty | cousins. I received a most hearty welcome. | After answering a hundred inquiries as to | town relatives and news, I glanced around the antiquated room. It was empannelled with carved oak; and the chimney-piece was 'a chef d’euvre of Grinling Gibbons,—consist- ing of a group of foliage and fruit of the exact form and size of nature, most taste- fully designed and executed. Portraits of our ancestors were hung round the walls ; some of the gentlemen being attired in armour, with full-bottomed perukes. The x 306 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ladies wore high head-dresses, but were in the garbs of shepherdesses in silk and satin —a crook in one hand, and a favorite parrot on the other, with a cherry inits beak. 'The chairs and sofas were of very formal tapestry- work. The hour of supper approached. Not your.modern apology for such a meal, of mere sandwiches and tartlets. No; my good aunt had a soul far beyond such fastidious and-economical innovations. She, dear old lady ! insisted on a bond fide substantial hot repast—roasted chickens, egg-sauce, boiled tongue, sweet-breads, a pigeon-pie, custards, jellies, and baked pears. The whole accom- pavied with sound Lisbon wine, and admir- able home-brewed sparkling ale. On the withdrawal of the cloth, a highly spiced “powl of bishop” made its appearance, placed vis-a-vis to another savory bowl of rum punch, flavored with arrack. These good things were admirable adjuncts to lively conversation. My aunt was not one of those starched old frumps, who, after they have attained a certain, or rather an wncer- twin age, begin to indulge in the gratification of hopeless misery in this world, and ever- lasting condemnation in the next. On the contrary, sue was a jovial-hearted old girl, who had not yet left off her riding-habit, or sleek white mare witha long tail, on the back of which she had taken her exercise for many years. She loved a joke, and de- lighted in the society of her juniors, in whose frolics she was foremost to participate. She told her merry stories—these produced others, like the growth of mushrooms—one plant becoming surrounded by a circle of the same genus. rom stories we came to songs, from songs to toasts, “ A merry Christmas and a happy New Year,” &c., &c., until the bowls had to be replenished. Then the piano was opened; the chairs were cleared away ; and up started my venerable aunt and the whole party for a dance. It was not the Polka. In those days, such a filthy absur- dity was unknown—except indeed to the clown at Sadler’s Wells. Every cheek was mantling with joyous excitement; for the jests and roars of laughter ceased not during the dance. Nor was there any unnecessary stoppage of the office of the punch ladle. But alas! pleasure cannot continue for ever, and so it happened now,—for, in the midst of a most uproarious hilarity, something fell heavily on the floor; all eyes were instantly turned in one direction. It was my aunt ! The music ceased ; we anxiously surrounded the poor lady: raised her; a thousand fears crossed our minds. Was it apoplexy ? epilepsy ? or what was it? My dear old aunt opened her eyes. Ina moment she penetrated our inward thoughts ; and in the benevolence of her heart to relieve our apprehensions she exclaimed, “ Be not alarmed, dears; ONLY A LITTLE TIPSY,— nothing more, I assure you.” Oh! how our hearts were relieved. After this, the only move that could be made was—to bed. On Christmas Day I was waked _ at. eight o'clock, A.M.—by I did not exactly know what. But it was agreeable. About a dozen sweet tiny voices were singing the Christmas Carol in the court outside the window,— “God bless you, merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay,” &c., &c., &c. I stepped out of bed, and poked my nose between the holland blind and the edge of the casement; glancing obliquely. It is extraordinary how cleverly the human eye can look roundacorner. I beheld, wrapped up in warm grey cloaks, twelve or more fresh-looking little girls, who were -the vocalists. They were all tidily attired; and went through their carol with confidence,— as if it had been an annual and expected custom. When they had sung through the quarter of a hundred verses appertaining to that antique stave,—who should I see emerge from the porch, as fresh as a daisy, but my aunt ! that her Christmas Day would have been passed in bed, with a water-gruel accom- paniment. But no; I was utterly mistaken. She, in a good-humored tone, called the little choristers up to her; and dispensed to each a bright sixpence and a home-made cake. The pleased looks of the children were her ample reward. A knock at the door fur- nished hot water and aired linen; also, an intimation that everybody was both up and down. I shall pass over a cheerful and exquisite breakfast. Nor shall I relate ali I said to my fair cousin Henrietta, as she leant on my arm in our walk to the village church. We are seated in my aunt’s family pew. She, bless her heart! with a happy look of serenity proceeding from the calm feeling of piety inherent in her; I rather feverish; and with my thoughts reverting to the faua-pas on the carpet on Christmas eve. I know not how it is, but somehow I always feel much more interest in a country church than I do ina place of worship in London. ‘There is less pretension, more simplicity. Generally speaking, you know the officiating clergyman is not overpaid. Should it bea curate, you may be sure that his labors do not receive their proper reward. You sympathise with, while you. inwardly respect. the grave, meek-looking man. But here, | must own that I was a little scandalised, by what I considered the irre- I imagined, as_a matter of course, , QS SS ESP FR SSS oP EEE? KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 307 verent conduct of my pretty cousins. While finding the Proper Lessons, &c., I regret to say that I overheard their whispers. Henrietta.—Look ! Mrs. Brown has a new bonnet. Mary.— What a fright ! Julia.—What are those mantles of the Misses Hobson ? Henrietta.—The old turned and trimmed. Mary.—Oh, no; surely —— Hlenrietia.—I tell you they are, though. Julia.—Jane Pimbury has got her sister’s shawl on. Henrietta.—Her own’s gone to be cleaned. Mary.—I think if Mr. Claxton had his surplice washed, it would not have done it any particular harm. Henrietta.—Perhaps he is waiting for New Year’s-day. It is only once in twelve months. But I will do my fair cousins the justice to say, that when the service commenced they assumed decorous attention. new- The little church was gaily and profusely decorated with evergreens. Every face in the congregation looked cheerful. Perhaps the knowledge of the fact that there was a feast preparing at home, of more than ordi- nary extent and delicacy, had some effect on the beaming countenances. Even the little ragamufiins of charity-boys raised their heads in dignity, on the strength of anticipated “roast beef and plum-pudding.” After church, we proposed a walk. The weather, although it was piercing cold, was clear and exhilarating. The crisp frozen grass crackled beneath our feet. The fieldfares and red- wings were scattered across the meadows, clamorously seeking their food ; whilst, high up in the blue cloudless sky, flew a phalanx of wild ducks, in a wedge-like form. A scared hare started from its resting-place, in the midst of decayed fern (almost of its own color), and scampered up the hedge-row, out of our reach. It stopped; and elevating itself on its haunch, gazed at us curiously. But what are these that come whirling round us like a flight of pigeons,—taking their circles, lower and lower? See! it is a flock of green plovers. But now turn homewards. Not one of the party has eaten a morsel of luncheon,— because no one chose to spoil their Christmas dinner. We are great epicures, and are as hungry as cormorants. Our dearly beloved aunt has detailed the niceties of her bill of fare. We retire to our rooms, to arrange our toilet ; andare now comfortably seated, cheerfully chatting, round the drawing-room fire. A huge log is burning: keen appetites are prepared to do full justice to the approaching meal; the wine has been de- canted ; and a capacious plate-warmer stands before the parlor-grate. All is indicative of speedy and luxurious enjoyment. But what is that bustling commotion below? What can be the matter? Are they quarrelling on Christmas-day in the kitchen? What is this strong smell ? One, of the housemaids, Jenny, opens the drawing-room door. In hurried accents, she begs to speak to her mistress. The dreadful mystery is solved !—THE KITCHEN-CHIMNEY IS ON Fire! My aunt implored me to fly down, and aid to extinguish the conflagration. I rushed below. Alas! alas! what a sight for a hungry person, who had refused luncheon! It took me some moments to recover myself. There was the fat cook, m despairing insanity! Her cap was torn off; it having been ignited by a fall of burning soot; and her hair was hanging loose. A large cod- fish, taken from the kettle and placed on the drain, was completely in gritty mourning, from head to tail. The boiled round-of beef, which had been cooked in the copper, was also dished before the fire, and covered with literally a hillock of smouldermg soot. The turkey on the spit had met with the same fate. It had been, ina moment of despera- tion, lifted bodily away, and was now reclin- ing in the sand, under the dresser. The fried sausages were lying about in lamentable confusion, the kitten patting one up into a corner ; the cat making wry faces in devour- ing another, as it was too hot. I trod on something soft and slippery. I found it was the oysters, out of the sauce. A boiled tongue, ejected from its bed of mashed turnips, was lying under the kitchen grate, licking up dust and soot. Everything was covered with black; and it was next to impossible to inhale the fetid and heated atmosphere. A damaged pig’s face, with a most melancholy contour of countenance, was on the floor. ‘The maids were trembling and screaming. ‘The man-servant was de- spatched to the roof of the house with a wet blanket—(O, what a wet blanket was this!) —to cover the chimney-top; and a boy— my aunt’s tiger—was hurried off for the parish engine. Fish, flesh, and fowl; sauces, soup, vegetables, ragouts, fricassees,—all, all were prostrated into a mass of irremediable ruin. I can no more. Instead of the piano playing, they are playing the fire-engine, which has arrived too late, as the engine- keeper had gone out toa Christmas party, at the Marquis of Granby’s Head, four miles off. We are hopeless, dinnerless, and, in all probability, shall be supperless ! - Was not this—a CHRISTMAS DISASTER? Oh, may WE all escape such a climax! Too well do we know,—that “there is many a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip.” ae 308 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. WORKS OF ART AND FUBLIC MORALS. MOST SiNCERELY DO WE REJOICE in giving utterance to the expressed thoughts of our confrére, the Editor of the “ Liverpool Mercury,” on the subject of what is known as mock-modesty. : The amiable Milton has said :— “ Goodness thinks no ill where no ill seems.” But WE refined, double-refined (ad nauseam!) creatures; foul in thought,—im- pure in heart,-—filthy im imagination, turn all we see of Nature’s beauty into wickedness ! We batten on what is unclean, and politely hand Satana chair to sit down in. If he be neutral, we then drag him into his seat. And these are the people who would be thought moral—religious—upright ! Heaven looks on, patiently ; but—. Here, without further comment, let usappend our fellow laborer’s noble remarks. ‘They appeared in the “ Liverpool Mercury,” Nov. 11th :— There are “some people” who get through a great deal of work in the course of the day, and find time fora little relaxation also. They are very clever people; and, if their work is well done, very industrious and praiseworthy people. One of these, a lady who is the mother of a large family, finds time, after a due discharge of her maternal duties, to write to a London con- temporary—a religious (!) journal—on the vice and temptation engendered by the exhibition of works of art—“‘ Greek slaves,” and such like statues ! The newspaper, honored with this com- munication (also most remarkable for its house- wifely industry), takes occasion, in expressing fervent approbation of the iconoclastic letter, to preach a short homily on “low dresses,” and, with its ordinary contempt for worldly verity, asserts that this shocking fashion comes through our frequent intercourse with the Continent ! Now, we are not careful to answer in such matters; though we cannot help thinking of the little milliner behind the screen, when such Surface-like prudery intrudes itself. But we do desire to remark, that there are in existence undeniable forms of immorality and indecency, which appear to be forgotten in these coteries. It seems to be utterly unnoticed, that vice is walking abroad without drapery ; that ignorance appears,—not in the unadorned beauty of the “Greek Slave,” but in its own coarse nudity ; and that misery has no covering. It appears not to be remembered, that in every great town (and in rural cottages also), poverty prevents decency; and that all distinction of sex is impossible. While people are publishing prurient Puritanism, there is that looking in at their windows, and knocking at their doors, which should indeed make virtue blush. On the straw bed, and on the cold but cleaner pavement, there is that which they may well be ashamed to look at. While they are discoursing on what they can- not understand—for the beautiful is far above their conception—there is that, which even dul- ness can read, appealing in mute eloquence to their frigid feelings. But, it may be, tliis delicacy, | popular ‘here, has broken out in full force which sits simpering in drawing-rooms, does not know of these things. For the sake of woman- hood, we hope it is so. Ladies of this class have “so much to do” that it is possible they are ignorant. [Isit!] But if they do know,—theu are they without excuse. So far from “ Art” tending to immorality, it is the mother of sublime thought; and the creator of bright and chaste ideas. If we had more gal- leries of sculpture and painting cpen to the people, we should have more rational refinement. Even in the classes which are called ‘t educated,” the heart and the imagination are too often untaught. And, what is worse, their natural qualities are not permitted to develop themselves. We have been called a nation of shopkeepers, and we are regarded as proud and austere. Ifthere be any truth in the taunt, it is owing very much to the uncultivated charities of life ;—and more especially in the sex whose influence is, or ought to be, the sunshine of the English home. If art and poetry were more cherished among us, we should be altogether a wiser and a better people ; and the religion whose pseudo-professors are opposing this, and all other education, could then rejoice that Christianity and civilisation were coming forward together. We repeat it,—we rejoice to see yet another honest champion siding with our- self, “ WALTER,” “Argus,” “ ARCHER,” and Co.—to stem the torrent of folly and madness that seems to whirl society forward to their impending destruction. LIFE—AT HOME AND ABROAD. “FACTS ” FROM AUSTRALIA. ‘Tt is not all coup that glitters.”’ OuR READERS HAVE, long since, been put in possession of our private thoughts upon fortune-hunters—people who, wiilst doing comparatively well here, yet persisted m trying to do “better” abroad. The thirst for “gold” we have proved to carry with it its own punishment. Its worshippers have fallen by the thousand—-fallen, to rise no more in this world. The subjoined “illustrations” of what is now the game in Australia, are entitled to a place in Our JourNAL. They may be “useful,” as well as interesting. They were penned a few months since, and addressed by an emigrant to his friend in England,— dated “from my tent and home on the sandy beach of Port Phillip.” The writer is an out-and-outer of his class. Steeped in trouble, and with a dreary pros- pect, yetis he jovial withal. It willbe seen, that he is now trying to make ugly faces, with a view to qualify himself for being a “comic singer.” His comicalities are to produce him six pounds per week. Pending this, he hints at a future touch at Electro- Biology. [t seems this humbug— once so KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. abroad. How easily people are cheated of their senses, and of their money! And yet— “the world is not mad!’ Who dares say so? But now for the joys of a settler’s life :— Dear Bobby,— When L landed here, I found things in an awful state of confusion, and everything frightfully dear; for instance, bread 2s. 6d. the 4lb. loaf; meat 6d. and 8d. per lb. ; butter, 4s.; eggs, 12s. per dozen; house rent, anything they liked to ask for an empty hole—I cannot call it a room—30s. and £2 a week, and lucky to get it. To land self, £1; luggage about £2. What wasI to do with only 15s. 6d. in my purse, all my worldly possessions? There’s a fix to be in —houseless, tentless, and moneyless, in a strange land! However, a thought came into my head that I possessed that which would bring me at least a few pounds—green goggles, 100 of which I bought in England for the small sum of 28s. I therefore asked one of the passengers if he would make a spec, and buy them for £10. After some hesitation, he took them for £9 10s., and now, behold me, a monied man! Yes ; with capital enough to buy a share in the ship’s lifeboat and a tent, and land myself and luggage free, obtain a license as a water- man for Hobson’s Bay on the Yarra, Yarra; and now landing passengers and luggage— not exactly free of all charge. Next week, I am about to make a change from sea to land, and instead of making holes in the water, and poor emigrants’ pockets, I am goig to bore the earth in search of the precious metal. Iam going up to the dig- gings—Fryar’s Creek, or Murderer’s Flat, or Choke’em Gully—with a new chum..... | What I have seen of the climate of this country, I do not like. Hot winds, hotter and more fierce than the siroccos of Egypt; hot days, and bitter cold mornings and nights ; strong winds, which raise the dust in clouds far thicker than our November fogs; and frequent storms, Jike the present. I can assure you it’s no child’s play pulling and managing a boat in Hobson’s Bay; for it nearly always blows half a gale from the sea. Then we have the very torments of Tartarus, in the shape of myriads of the most torment- ing of flies, which, not content with sticking to your eyes, going up your nose, and falling into and upon every mortal thing you eat and drink, must needs commit suicide by flying down your throat. If cats get thin from eating them, and they have the same effect on me, I fear you will never even see what there is of me again. Then there are lots of dear little tickling fleas, which cause you vast amusement throughout the night; and as for the mosquitoes, the very air rings of an evening with their lively hum. Snakes, too, are very fond of blankets—as, I think, was proved just before I left London; but 309 here they like to get into the blanket, and not the blanket to get into them. Spiders, as large as a willow-pattern plate,are also on friendly terms with you, and often call to take a bite and sup. Oh, it’s a lovely spot —very! - There is a vast amount of distress among the gentlemanly, no-capital, no hard-work people—people who will not go on the roads and earn 10s. a day, because they have never done it, and it’s below them. But, believe me, if a man comes here without capital, he must work or starve; and the work that is wanted is hand, not headwork. I do any- thing to pick up a shilling—carry a box, help dig the foundation of a house; and what | have lately made some money at, has been duck-shooting. The way | set about it is this : —I start off in the afternoon for one of the numerous lagoons, situated from five to ten miles off, and take with me on my back, besides my gun, a blanket, hookpot, panni- kin, tea and sugar, bread, &e. On my road, I often get stuck in a bog, or lost in the bush ; but nil desperandum, on I go, and at length reach my destination. At sunset, I take my station in some thick reeds—perhaps up to my hips in mud and water, and there await the evening flight of the ducks, teal, black swans, &c. At last, bang! bang! goes old Joe Manton ; and splash, splash, tumble the ducks into the lake. Then for an hour it’s load and fire, and then gather together the dying and the dead. I now try and find out a soft place under some friendly gum-tree, light a fire, make a cup of te» (when I was on board ship I thought I should become a solid lump of “plum duff ;” now I really believe I shall be converted into a huge teapot, for I drink tea by the quart, not the cup), roll myself in my blanket, anything but bless the ants and mosquitoes, and off to sleep. Up again in the morning before the sun, take my place in the rushes, see the ducks turn out to wash their faces, and give them a hearty salute; after which, pack up and away to Melbourne, call at the clubs and hotels, and sell my ducks; and if I fail there, it’s “ Duck, O! Wild duck! Widgeon or wildfowl!” in the streets; and the best of all is, this kind of sport pays at 18s. a pair for ducks, 20s. a goose, 5s. and 6s. per pair for teal—a good night’s work tells up. Now, your poor, proud man won’t do this; because, faith, he never did such a thing in England, and it’s so “low” to sell ducks. Therefore he starves, and nobody pities him ; and he either turns shepherd in the bush, or works his way home again as a ship-steward. But there is one sad cause of distress— namely, that caused by illness from the common and often fatal complaint, diarrhea. Then a man or woman without money is 310 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. indeed in a sad condition. All I can say is, God help them! for few else will. For the working man, this country is the finest in the world, and he is sure of a fortune if he dees not take to “ nobblers ” (small glasses of brandy or rum), Drunkenness is the very curse of the country. I must now really turn in with the fleas (they are anxiously waiting for me), and fmish this another time. I have to be up before sunrise to fish ; as fishing pays at 20s. a-dozen, large and small; so good night !— J. G., licensed waterman, No. 119, at your honor’s sarvices) drt I. The Melbourne has arrived, but I have no letters. I fear the fault is with the post- office, for so badly regulated a place I believe does not exist in the world. To get to the window for a letter, takes at least two hours; and then you must fight against a crowd as rough and large as on a boxing-night at the “Royal Vic.,” and the great difficulty is to get out again. All this could be set to rights by making a barrier; but no; the pig- headed Government won’t do it. Hundreds and hundreds of letters are lying in the post- office, aud the persons to whom they are directed know they are there, but cannot get them. As for the post-offices at the diggings, they are a perfect farce; they take the postage, but the letters never arrive. A lady friend of mine wrote four letters to her husband at the diggings, begging him to return to Melbourne, as their eldest daughter was dying. He not coming, she advertised in the Argus; that he saw, and returned. But, alas! too late. The letters he never received. I wrote three letters to a friend at Sydney; he only received one; the others are not to be found. I will now tell you what an emigrant may expect on landing—say a man, his wife, and family, with £5 and no tent—(the case I am going to make up is not one in 100, but 99 out of 100). He lands; and finds the whole of his money gone for conveyance of himself and family ashore. He sits down on his boxes, debating what he shall do for the best. He hears he can get work on the roads at 10s. a-day, or if he’s a stonemason, carpenter, or blacksmith, his prospects are even better,—ready employment at 25s. a- day. This revives him. He looks around and sees a waste sandy desert, which, from the reeds, is a bog in winter, and close to the sea. He therefore sets to work, opens his boxes, gets out sheets, blankets, tablecloths, gowns, handkerchiefs, &c.; and, while his wife sews them together, he gets some sticks and manages to make what he calis a tent to cover them from the weather. He then takes a seat by the roadside, and sells some of his things ata sad loss, and with the pro- ceeds buys a supper for his family ; and the next morning he is off to town to try and get work. He comes back saying he has suc- ceeded; but what is his surprise at finding his tent pulled down, and things scattered about! He asks the cause, and his wife tells him that the Government officials have been, and, after abusing her, took, or rather tore down the tent, because, as they said, it was Government land; and also, that if they saw them pick up any sticks again, dead and rotting although they might be on the ground, they should be tind £5, or amonth’s imprisonment ; and this, too, where firewood is at £5 and £3 a-load. What does he then do? Why, perhaps he growls, and then packs up; carries and drags his goods on to Melbourne, sells some more, and then goes to a Government office for permission to pitch his tent on what is called ‘Canvas Town,’ and pays the Government 5s. a-week rent. Away he hies, and pitches his tent, goes to work : and when he returns, he sees his tent again in con- fusion. He hears from his wife that she, finding the ground dirty and very dusty, and thinking to makethe tent more comfortable, laid down some planks in the shape of box lids, &c., when, lo and behold! up comes a Government official, and orders her to take up the boards, as they were not allowed to board thevtentssvamin Chinese as safely as the most modern writer ; because Mendoza had a good eye to perceive, and a clever hand to detail what he saw; and because the China of the nineteenth century is twin brother to China of the sixteenth—so alike are they in stature, feature, and com- plexion. China had no historical beginning; no de- velopment, no growth. It came into the world with all its teeth in its head, ready to masticate from rice upwards to the unicorn, whose flesh is a dainty. It had no boyhood as a nation, but hecame all at once a stunted man; and such it has continued, still presery- ing its teeth, and-having small need of a barber. We have never read of Chinese epics or bucolics; but we are assured that before Homer lost his sight, and took to ballad-singng—before Sappho vindicated, practically, the right of woman to publish— before dainty Horace wrote odes and had lamprey suppers with Mzecenas—China had its writers, its men of letters, its naturalists and historians. Before Bavaria had its beer, China had its tea. Before the German had his blanket, the Chinaman had his robe of silk. When Kelt was proud of his wooden fibule, and plaited his hair to keep it tidy, there were gentlemen in Nanking, and cits in Canfu, who fastened their robes with brooches of amber, and who made wholesome use of combs of ivory. Long before Regnar, the Norse Vik- ing, was surnamed, on account of his continu- ations, Lodbrog, or, in plain English, Leather- breeches, the Chinese dandy went a-wooing in silken pantaloons. When Alfred, or the venerable Bede, was scrawling tediously on rough paper of a night, guided by faint light from a horn lantern, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 325 the Chinaman had his printing-press, and the Chinese devil rolled the forms in the glare of wax-light. Yang-tse wrote on currency, ere Cobbett’s triple-grandsire was mooted in the way of human generation; ‘paper against gold” was the rule, before the Irish had got rid of their ring money; and book-keeping was a science when Falstafi’s score was registered in chalk at the Boar of EKastcheap, and the Exchequer accounts were kept with wooden talleys. Squibs, crackers, and Roman candles were “ let off” in Nanking, before Western scholars began to wrangle about the Greek fire and what it was not, and before small boys made annual bonfires and plagued their seniors by fasten- ing juvenile bombshells to their skirts in honor of Guido Fawkes. Europe, to speak paradoxically and yet truly, was ten centuries behind China, and is yet twelve centuries before it. Seriously, it is really astonishing—when we consider the amount of progress that the Chinese had made in the arts of civilisation, before Europe had emerged from her fens and forests,—how stationary they have been ever since! Science, art, learning, and litera- ture are all just as they were ages ago— neither better nor worse. And the Chinese character is the same also. The Chinaman is still a money-making animal—prudent, industrious, economical—contented with a handful of rice for his day’s labor ; and hap- pier than a mandarin with a red button if he can get but acup of arrack or a whiff of contraband poppy-juice. The abuse of opium, indeed, is the only sign of progress he has displayed of late years. We say progress, in this instance ; and it may seem sinful to connect progress with the manifestation of a vice; but there is really more hope of a sinner than of a negative saint. ‘There is hope of repentance in the one case; in the other case none. The Chinaman is still timid; and still cruel. He is still craity and indirect; and never so much in his element as when heis mystifying or bamboozling his neighbor. He is withal a merry rogue—jokes in his greatest tribula- tion, and never dies of a broken heart ! CRITIC. “QDD,”—BUT TRUE. THERE is a feeling in nature affecting even the instinct, as itis called, of dumb animals, which teaches them to fly from misfortune. The deer will butt a sick, or wounded buck, from the herd. Hunt a dog, and the whole kennel will fall on him and worry him. Fishes devour their own kind, when wounded with a spear, hook, &c. Cut a crow’s wing, or break his leg, and the others will buffet him to death. By the same rule, let a man be “going down hill,” and everybody will be disposed to give him akick. We see all this daily. BOTANICAL NOTES. THE SALCOMBE ALOES, erc. BY A DEVONIAN. I HAVE RECENTLY, MY DEAR SIR, become a subscriber to your very excellent JOURNAL, or, as it is familiarly and properly called, Our JOURNAL. Observing the wideness of its scope, and the multitude of subjects on which it treats, it has occurred to me that I might contribute something of public inte- rest from this part of the country—Devon- shire. I therefore forward you the subjoined paper on the Aloe, &c. Believing that there is no part of England where so many plants of that beautiful exotic, the Agave Americana, have come to maturity in the open ground without the slightest pro- tection, 1 am induced to send you a short ac- count of the specimens that have flowered at Salcombe, a flourishing seaport, near Kings- bridge, in the south of Devon; where they are perfectly acclimated, and where they may be seen growing as luxuriantly as in their native climate. The first aloe recorded to have flowered at Salcombe did so in 1774; and I extract the following account of it, together with the handbill then circulated, from the History of Kingsbridge and Salcombe, by Abraham Hawkins, Esq., of Alston, published in 1819. At the 80th page is the description, as follows :— “In the summer of 1774, a large aloe, the Agave Americana, only 28 years old, and which had always stood in the open ground without covering, flowered here in a garden belonging at that time to the representatives of a Mr. Barrable, the principal custom-house officer, then recently deceased ; but which at present forms the grass- plot before the windows of what has lately re- ceived the appellation of Cliff House. (it is now the property and summer residence of Mrs. Walter Prideaux.) ‘It grew to the height of 28 feet; the leaves were 6 inches thick, and 9 feet in length; and the flowers, on 42 branches, innumerable. In the middle of June it was first observed to have shot forth a flower-stem, in nearly a horizontal direction. Presently it elevated its head to an angle of 45 degrees, and in less than a fortnight became perpendicular; making a pro- gress almost visible to the bystanders, and in- creasing in extent about 9 inches a day. By the month of August it had reached a height of 20 feet, as the handbills then distributed expressed; though, by the end of September, it had risen 8 feet more. It need scarcely be added, that the plant perished at the close of Autumn ; but many of the unsevered suckers around, which all these plants incidentally produce, and are the usual means of their propagation, flowered also at the close of the season, and though scarcely above a foot high, were perfect resemblances of their parent prototype.” The following is a copy, with the original orthography, of the handbills above men- 326 tioned, which were printed and circulated in August, 1774 :— “Now to be seen at Salcombe, near Kings- bridge, in full blow, a remarkable Alloe, supposed to be the largest that ever was seen in this king- dom; and although continually exposed to the weather, it hath grown to the following demen- tions :—In height, 20 feet; length of leaf, 9 feet ; thickness of ditto, 6 inches. As the proprietor hath been at great expences to keep it for the in- spection of the curious, the terms of admittance are—for ladies and gentlemen, 2s. 6d. each; all others, 1s. each person; and to be paid at the door.” The words “ 2s. 6d. each; all others,” were struck out witha pen ina short time, as even 1s. was found more than people in general were disposed to give; but such was the novelty, that hundreds of people came from great distances to see it. In 1820, a second Aloe flowered at the seat of James Yates, Esq., called Woodville, which attained the height of 27 feet, and produced 42 flowering branches, bearing 16,000 flowers. This plant is fully described in the 5th vol. of ‘ The Transactions of the Horticultural Society.” In 1832, a third Aloe flowered at the Moult (then the property of Mr. Jackson, but now the seat of Lord Courtenay), which was 28 feet high. The lawn at Woodville was again ornamented, in 1835, with the almost countless blossoms of this stately exotic. The stem of this specimen was 24 feet 9 inches high, forming the fourth Aloe that had flowered. In the autumn of 1840, a fifth flowered at the Moult, and was 27 feet in height. This plant was transplanted the previous year ; which, perhaps, threw it into blossom, as the leaves were not quite so large as those of its predecessors. In 1842, asixth Aloe came into flower at Cliff House, the residence of Mrs. Prideaux. This plant was between 30 and 35 years of age; and, instead of throwing up a central flower-stem, which is the usual manner of these plants when flowering, and as all the others that have blossomed at Saleombe have done, it pro- truded seven stalks from different parts—the principal of which were about 10 feet high. From this circumstance, the peculiar cha-~ racter of the plant was lost. Its appearance, however, was exceedingly beautiful; it con- tinued in luxuriant bloom, without the slight- est protection, through the whole of the suc- ceeding winter. In the autumn of 1847, another Aloe came into bloom at Woodville. This was a fine specimen, and formed the seventh that had flowered at Salcombe. It was 28 feet high, and had the magnificent central flower-stem, which is the characteristic of these splendid plants. At each of the places above mentioned, many fine young Aloes are manifesting more KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. than ordinary vigor; and in a small garden overhanging the sea, and constantly exposed in stormy weather to the spray, five magni- ficent specimens are growing luxuriantly. An Aloe has blossomed this summer, in the grounds of Lord Mount-Edgecumbe, near Plymouth; but it was in every respect inferior to the numerous specimens that have bloomed at Salcombe. It may not, perhaps, be out of place to speak of Salcombe itself. It is a populous, thriving place; carrying on a considerable trade, and situated between Torquay and Plymouth; it contains a hand- ~ some church, and many comfortable resi- dences. At the west end are Cliff Cottage, Cliff House, and Ringrove, the residence of Lord Kinsale, with other respectable abodes ; and towards the entrance of the harbour, which is about a mile from the town, are placed, in the midst of their wooded grounds, the delightfnl residences of Woodville and the Moult. In point of picturesque scenery there are few, if any, portions of the coast that exceed it; whilst the various tender and exotic plants, perfectly acclimated, and its mild and equable climate, render it a spot of no common interest to the horticulturist and valetudinarian. Perhaps, of all spots in the British Islands, Salcombe is the very first for climate and shelter. The celebrated Dr. John Huxham, who practised at Plymouth in the reign of George the Second, used to call it the Mout- pelier of England; and it is now much re- sorted to by invalids, who rarely fail to benefit by its beautiful climate. At Cliff House, and also at Woodville and the Moult, are walls of thriving orange, lemon, citron, and lime trees, which are only protected in cold weather by temporary frames of straw or reed. From the walls of Cliff House I have fre- quently seen citrons gathered, of more than half a yard im circumference; while the lemons and limes are to be seen growing as thickly as gooseberries on a bush, and of a quality far superior to those that are yearly brought from abroad. Some oranges and lemons that grew at Garston, near Salcombe, the seat of the Bastard family, and which were as fair and large as any from Portugal, were presented to his Majesty King George the Third by Lady Bridget Bastard’s bro- ther, Vere, third Earl of Poulett. At Woodville stood, a few years since, a large olive tree, trained also against a wall, but entirely unprotected; and there is still a specimen in the grounds. The luxuriance of the New Zealand flax is remarkable; some immense masses being more than 7 feet high. The beauty of these plants is great, as they evince the strongest health, and are uninjnred by the severest Devonshire winters. Two smaller plants ee KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. aaa ———————————eeee_ 327 have blossomed, the flower-stalks being be- tween 2 and 3 feet higher than the leaves. At the Moult, a great number of exotics have been planted in the open air; and even in the early part of November, the grounds may be seen gay with salvias, petunias, se- necias, bouvardias, and brugmansias, &c. These last-named shrubs stand the winter well; and though often cut down to the ground, form strong plants by the end of the summer. Various herbaceous plants from Mexico, particularly stévias, are perfectly acclimated; and a species of phylotacea is conspicuous, from its numerous spikes of deep purple berries. At the head of the estuary, of which Salcombe is the entrance, in the grounds of Coombe Royal, the resi- dence of John Luscombe, Esq., are ‘ine specimens of orange, citrons, lemons, shad- docks, and limes; they are protected, only in winter, by temporary frames of reed; and one tree, a Seville orange, is known to have attained the age of 200 years. CaoBat oY: CRUELTY TO ANIMALS. WE HAVE NOW ARRIVED at a time of year when people meet together to be sociable, kind, friendly, and affectionate. All is cold, winterly, bleak, and comfortless without ; and we strive to forget this, by making all warm and comfortable within. Fires blaze upon the hearth. Our tables are covered with dainties. Abundance of the good things of this life are ours; and we are as mercifully sheltered from the pitiless storms that are raging in all parts of the country. Surely this should make us merciful and kind to the little pensioners who are now driven by stress of weather to seek refuge near our dwellings. ‘They are, just now, coming to us in large numbers, and lovingly striving to win our sympathy. A litle—a very little satisfies their wants; and what a song do we getin return! Daily do we rejoice in the scenes we are now hinting at; and we should indeed be glad to get others to think as we think, and to follow our example. But we are foo singular in this our favorite recreation. Whilst we encourage, foster and protect our little confiding visitors, our neigh- bors are on every hand murdering them wholesale. The sight of any bird that is tame, and that approaches the house for a crumb, is the signal for the gun to be got ready. Food is thrown out; the enemy then watches in ambush, whilst the unsuspecting little creatures make themselves “ at home.” | Next follows a report; and the ground is presently seen strewn with the feathers of robins, wrens, blackbirds, thrushes, hedge- sparrows, chaffinches, and tit-mice. There lie their little mangled bodies, ‘‘ damning evidence” of the innate cruelty of MAN! This, too, at a time when the pangs of hunger ought to claim for them an indemnity ! Every five minutes throughout the day are these disgusting scenes going forward in our fields, gardens, woods, forests, and hedge-rows. Well may the various tribes seek refuge with us! They seem instinctively to know how dearly we love them. Whilst on this subject, it will not be out of place to introduce here some remarks on cruelty to animals generally. Some may say, “they are not new.” Granted; but they are not any the worse on that account. They will bear the most attentive perusal; and prove to - parents how careful they should be to imcul- cate humanity in the minds of their children from infancy. This 1s a point almost entirely neglected, as we see daily. Hence the bar- barities practised by adults,—as a matter of course. Were a history of the cruelty inflicted by one animal on another to be written, the amount of torture that is chargeable to man would immeasurably exceed that of any other creature. Ferocious and heartless as carni- vorous animals are, it is a curious fact that they usually act with great expedition in the destruction of life. They seize their victim by the neck, and spine it; and so far exhibit a sympathy with its sufferings as not to com- mence their meal till life is extinct. But man is “ingeniously” cruel. He has invented instruments of torture. Too refined for the employment of nails and teeth in the exercise of cruelty, and with numberless other motives for using and subduing animals (besides the appetite for eating them), he has invented whips and goads, and bridles and curbs. He makes use of sticks and stones to force them to his will; and he too often accomplishes his end by a _ cruel indifference to the feelings of a sensitive, a speechless, and a helpless creature. It is the practice at Smithfield Market, to allow the drovers, when a beast is sold, to cut off the hair of the animal as a perquisite. This, were it done with a pair of scissors, would inflict no pain; but it is usually taken off by means of a knife—and so rudely, that even the skin is torn. And they very fre- quently cut a piece off the end of the tail! What matters it to them? ‘The animal is to die in a few hours! Mr. Langham, a butcher of extensive business and great experience in such matters, says—‘‘T have seen them do it to my own animals.” He has frequently spoken to the police about it, and they reply— If we saw this done we should take the man to Guildhall; but it is very difficult to see them do it.” The same authority remarks, that there is not a place all round Smithfield where the poor animals can get a rrr BY KIDD’S OWN JOURNAT.. 328 drop of water. What matters it? They are going to be killed to-morrow! On one occasion Mr. Langham saw a drover knock out a bullock’s eye. A bystander remarked, ‘T should like to know what difference it makes; most likely the bullock will be killed to-night or to-morrow.” But it does make much difference! In the first place, it inflicts a frightful torture on a dumb, helpless creature. In the second place, for aught we know, it maddens the animal, and impregnates its flesh with a poisonous nature, which brings its moral retribution on the race that inflicts it. Who knows how much of the madness, the ferocity, the brutality of man, is a reflection of his own treatment of the animal creation ? It is said, that many of the poor animals which supply the mutton for our tables are skinned alive, not before the death-wound is inflicted, but before life is extinct, and whilst the animal is yet struggling for self-preser- yation. Not long ago a journeyman butcher was charged with the offence before a magis- trate, and convicted. Men wager upon their horses that they willrun a certain distance in a given time; and they use the whip and the spur to compel them. So keenly do the poor creatures feel this torture, that they even exert themselves till they drop down dead, after having barely accomplished the task. Last year, a horse employed at a brewery refused, or was unable, to do its work; and they actually lighted a fire beneath its belly and scorched it. Yet even this was insuffi- cient to make it accomplish what nature was unfit for. The tortured animal was then dragged out by another horse into a field, and there left to recover by exposure to the cold air. Three men were tried for this offence and convicted; one of them was the brewer’s own son. Last year also the feel- ings of the whole country were harrowed in the case of one; King, who was convicted for roasting a cat alive; and, in the same year, the public were amused and delighted (we suppose they were, for they paid for seeing the exhibition!) by the suspension of a pony under the car of a balloon—the victim of human frivolity and heartlessness being hung by the belly in mid-air, above the spires and turrets of the great metropolis! * It is but lately that public attention has been directed to such matters. How far our forefathers carried their cruelty, is difficult to imagine. But we know that they delighted in bull-baiting, dog and cock fighting, and other barbarous amusements—in which the chivalrous inhabitants of Spain still rejoice. * We commented at great length upon both these enormities, at the time of their perpetration. ==Ep. K. J. There, in that land of purest Popery, they bury Protestants in dunghills and_ stable- yards; and even exhume their bodies and bring them back from their graves to the doors of their relatives, if by chance the devotion of a Spanish Papist should have even grudged them a grave at all. And there also they scream with frantic joy when they see an infuriated bull tear open the bowels of a spirited horse, or an unfortunate torrero who has slipped his foot and become transfixed on the horns of the monster. France herself is now reviving such amuse- ments under the auspices of the priest-led emperor, for whose glorious advent the English romanists have been saying masses and singing praises, and in whose capital there yet survives a society for the preven- tion of cruelty to animals! A curious com- pound is human nature; and the manner in which we advance and recede at the same time,—repressing evil in one form, and reviving it in another, is a curious illustration of the difficulties ef our position, and the strength of those evil passions which are for ever prompting us to the commission of crime. We are, no doubt, advancing in the main. But if men, in such an age of comparative refinement as this, are yet to be found capable of committing such crimes,—and even enjoying the patronage and the rewards of public applause for committing them, how fearful must have been their excesses in less refined times! And how fearful even now in those numerous lands, where (as in Spain and Portugal, Italy, and the Pope’s entire dominions) a detective press has no existence! Little does man yet know what the heart of a brute really is; and how superior in many respects that heart is to his own. It is said, by the highest authority, that “the heart of man is evil above all things.” It is the throne of evil. How exquisitely faithful, kind, and sympathetic a well-trained, well- treated dog is! What a heart is enclosed in that wonderful structure! Can a human heart be found so devoted as this is? Does wife, or brother, or sister, or friend, inspire such confidence in permanent attachment as this! Who can ever doubt the attachment of his dog? A horse is equally susceptible of attach- ment; but because of its magnitude and want of domesticity it does not enjoy the same advantages. But in those exceptional cases where they are enjoyed, the horse exhibits not only attachment and fidelity, but marvel- lous understanding. The Arab talks to his horse as to a friend, and he cultivates its understanding by love alone. It is only by kindness that the intelligence of the inferior creation can be developed in a marvellous manner, unknown in this land of excessive civilisation, where the brute holds little com- munion with man. An Arab chief and his horse were captured. The chief was bound; and the horse was suffered to graze in the neighborhood. During the night the: chief distinguished the neighing of his own horse, like the voice of a friend. He dragged him- self towards it, on the ground; to bid it a last farewell. The two friends met. The one talked, and the other listened. De- termined to set his horse at liberty if his own escape were hopeless, he undid with his teeth the rope that tied it. The animal thus liberated made no ungenerous use of its liberty ; but clearly understanding its master’s fettered and helpless condition, it seized him gently by the clothes with its teeth, and made straight for the distant and well-known tent in the mountains of Arabia. It arrived in safety ; laid its master down at the feet of his wife and children, and dropped down dead with fatigue.* Can man or woman’s love exceed this? And what better under- standing could we desire in an inferior animal than to know how to act ina state of ex- tremity ? When we see how much can be done by the law of kindness, and how very willing the inferior animals are to work for us when they are able (and how very melancholy their speechless condition must be when they are not able), it seems desperately depraved in man to force them as he does, by torture. The whip is ever cutting the flesh of the horse on the steep acclivities of streets and highways. Patience there is none. The animal stops. In a few minutes, it would go on or make another attempt; but these few minutes are not accorded. Crack goes the whip, and crack again. Sparks of fire flash from the feet. The collar sinks into the flesh of the brute. The eyes almost burst from their sockets. Intense is the effort. The very maximum of strength is put forth. But so great is the load; so steep is the hill; that the effort is very often made in vain. Yet, instead of pity there is too often wrath; and if we blame the driver, he simply tells us that his master would dis- charge him if he were such ‘“‘a muff” as not to be able to surmount the difficulty. The whip is the instrument by which it is accom- plished; and he must use wt. He is the foreman of the slaves—the excutiouner of the law of brutes. Ladies’ work, too, is accomplished by the exercise of much cruelty. This, not in respect to needlewomen alone, but im respect to brute animals also. But then,—the delicate crea- tures must not see it done. They must go into the drawing-room, and lie down on the * Lamartine’s Travels in the East. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. | sofa till itis over ; as inthe Land of Liberty, 329 when the slaves are getting their stripes and stars. Moreover, great is “ the delicacy ” of the fair sex in these matters. The Society for the Suppression of Cruelty to Animals aver, that one great difficulty which they have to encounter in the exercise of their mission is —the objection felt by many very “refined” ladies to listen to the details. They do not want to know that such things are done. 'They do not care about them so long as they do not hear about them. They are perfectly indif- ferent about the cruelties committed—so long as they are not described. Not being described, their interest is not excited; and thus their “ pretended refinement” becomes actual cruelty. There is no greater humanity than that which not only listens to, but inquires into, such matters; and immediately acts with energy in alleviating the suffering. Excessive refinement is a disease—a mental sore which cannot be touched, and which is ever scream- ing and fainting with the pain of its own sensitiveness. The purest and healthiest, and the noblest specimen of humanity, will listen to the deepest tale of suffering: and instead of screaming and fainting will run for succor. They are not the sympathetic, who sink into inactivity and make no sacrifice of their own comforts for others; even as they are not the brave who tyrannise over the weak, and have not the courage to defy the strong. It is the mission of all superior gifts to overcome difficulties, physical, moral, or intellectual; not to sink before them. And the evils of which we treat specially at present, are not of the number of those before which noble and generous minds will ever give way. As an instance of the mode in which much cruelty or even severity may be avoided, we may instance a fact which took place in the streets of London. It was told be Dr. Daniell at a public meeting, to the credit of an unknown gentleman. Up one of those steep ascents to which we have alluded, the Doctor saw this gentleman leading a horse in a cart, and a number of people following him; some abusing him. Thinking he might be of service to him, the Doctor approached, and asked him why he was leading the horse? ‘“ Because,” said the gentleman, “the driver was ill-using it. He had turned the horse, and was backing him forcibly up the street, jerking his mouth and kicking his legs at every step. This 1 thought’ was a cruel act, and I said to him—‘ My man, only be quiet, the horse is not an ill- natured animal. Get out of your cart, and let me see if I cannot, by kind treatment, induce him to go.’” ‘The result was, that the horse went very quietly up the street by the gentleman’s guidance; and the people at last applauded him. 330 Much of the cruelty of men to horses may arise from ignorance. We shall take the most charitable view of this case. The driver was a servant, who must do certain work in perhaps a certain time. Having no knowledge of the law of kindness (because not specially instructed in it, either by pre- cept or example), he had no other idea of discipline than that which, poor fellow! he had himself experienced all his life. He had been jerked and kicked by his father first, and his master afterwards! and taking it for granted that this was the law of nature for subduing all obdurate animals, he merely practised on the horse the system under which he had been personally trained from time immemorial. We shall give the man credit for humanity; but he knew that he would be sworn at, abused or kicked if he did not accomplish his task ; so he jerked and kicked the horse, as the shortest and simplest method in his estimation to accom- plish his end. The gentleman taught him a lesson; and if he be a humane man he will never forget that lesson. But if he be, as many are, a man monster, he will do as before, and sink deeper and deeper in the gulf of crime. They who do not improve are sure to deteriorate. That severity is necessary at times both for men and brutes, we shall not attempt to deny; for it is a lawof nature. The dis- cipline of nature is very severe ; but it is the mission of a man to cultivate nature and im- prove upon it. The function of art super- sedes that of nature, and it is the province of humanity to cultivate it; and as kindness is a better law than severity, it is the cha- racteristic of better men and better systems to do that by kindness which inferior men can only achieve by cruelty. To accomplish by cruelty any task, how- ever great, reflects no honor on any man. It is rather a disgrace. But to accomplish by kindness a great and a difficult task, is one of the highest testimonials of human worth and greatness. And there is no better evidence of a nation’s rising honors, than the rapid and vigorous growth of gentle and humane manners, either in social intercourse, or in the treatment of inferior animals. Whilst we live, and whilst our hand is able to hold a pen, so long will we inveigh against cruelty, and uphold the doctrines of love and kindness. Our JOURNAL has already worked wonders. HAPPINESS COMPARATIVE. No person should envy another for having more of this world’s goods than himself. Happiness does not consist in the abundance of a man’s possessions. Happiness is simply—contentment. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. IT IS THE SONG MY MOTHER SINGS. BY ELIZA COOK. Ir is the song my mother sings, And gladly do I list the strain ; I never hear it, but it brings The wish to hear it sung again. She breathed it to me long ago, To lull me to my baby rest ; And as she murmured, soft and low, I slept in peace upon her breast. Oh, gentle song; thou hast a throng Of angel tones within thy spell ; I feel that I shall love thee long, And fear I love thee far too well. For though I turn to hear thee now, With doating glance of warm delight ; In after years I know not how Thy plaintive notes may dim my sight. That mother’s voice will then be still, I hear it falter day by day ; It soundeth like a fountain rill, That trembles ere it cease to play. And then this heart, though gentle song Will find an anguish in thy spell ; ’T will wish it could not love so long, Or had not loved thee half so well. MAN'S WEAKNESS. Ler but the strong TEMPTATION rise, As whirlwinds sweep the sea— We find no strength to ’scape the wreck, Save, pitying God, in Tuer! WE HAVE FREQUENTLY heard men boast of their power to withstand temptation; and we have known them express a desire to be put to the proof. Rash madmen! The very best of us are but mortals, and our composition is of one and the same mate- rial. We are pure touch-paper when ignited ; and, like many cther things we could name, have the elements of fire within us,—only wanting the match to kindle the flame. Many a laugh have we had at the disciples of Plato, masculine and feminine, who differ from us. ‘Platonic love’’ is—mere moonshine. It may read well in books; but carry it out, good folks, af you can! If you can, WE cannot. The best way to keep out of scrapes, and to steer clear of rocks, is not to venture into doubtful water. Rely on it, self-confidence is of little avail in cases of temptation. What the eye sees, and is captivated with—that the heart,—what a droll and “naughty” thing a man’s heart is !—will be sure to get possession of. And then,—where is our power of resis- tance? Echo answers,—‘‘ W-h-e-r-e?” The remarks we have made, are prepara- tory.to a little sketch we wish to introduce by “ Fanny Fern,’—that shrewd observer of human nature. Her heroine, ‘“ Nelly,” was engaged to a gentleman named ‘ Fitz-Allan,” the representative of one half at least of our KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 331 sex. ‘ Nelly” very wisely studied the man of her choice before taking him “for better for worse.” She asked herself one or two leading questions concerning him, and resolved to test whether certain ‘“ professions ” made, proceeded from a feeling of love. We admire this caution vastly. What did it not save her from? Young ladies! take a lesson from “ Nelly’s ”’ book. If we are asked whether a man ought to be subject to so severe an ordeal, we hardly know what to answer. He must indeed be a hero ¢f he withstood the artifices of a “ bril- liant sparkling brunette.” But as our object is to point out the danger of temptation, and to urge people to shun what they have no philosophy to resist,—we leave our readers to draw their own inference from our premises. Knowing what human nature is, we simply add,—beware! ; Kate Stanley was a brilliant, sparkling brunette. Woe to the rash youth who exposed his heart to her fascinations! If he were not annihilated by the witching glance of her bright eye, he would be sure to be caught by the dancing dimple that played “hide and seek” so roguishly in her rosy cheek ;: or the little rounded waist that sup- ported her faultless bust; or the tiny feet that crept in and out from under the sweep- ing folds of her silken robe. I am sorry to say Miss Kitty was an arrant coquette. She angled for hearts with the skill of a practised sportsman ; and was never satisfied till she saw them quivering and bleeding at her feet. Then, they might flounce, and flutter, and twist, and writhe at their leisure—it was no further concern of hers. She was off for a new subject. One fine morning she sat listlessly in her boudoir, tapping one little foot upon the floor, and sighing for a new sensation, when a note was handed to her. It ran thus:—‘“ Dear Kitty,——Our little cottage home is looking lovely this ‘leafy June.’ Axe you not weary of city life? Come and spend a month with us, and refresh heart and body. You will find nothing artificial here, save yourself !— Yours, Nelly.” “ Just the thing!” said Kitty. ‘ But the girl must be crazy, or intolerably vain, to bring me into such close contact with her handsome lover. I might as well try to stop breathing as to stop flirting; and the country, of all places, for a flirtation! The girl must be non compos. However, it’s her own afiair, not mine ;” and she glanced triumphantly at her beautiful face, and threaded her fingers through her long ringlets, and conquered him —in imagination ! % * Ls A “When do you expect your friend?” said a laughing young girl to Nelly. “ From the descriptions I have had of her, your bringing her here will be something akin to the intro- duction of Satan into Paradise. You would not find me guilty of such a folly were I engaged to your handsome Fitz. Now, you know, Nelly dear, that although you are fascinating and intellectual, you have no pre- tensions to beauty, and there are few men who prize a gem unless it is handsomely set, however great its value. Now be warned in time, and send him off on a pilgrimage till her visit is over. I won't bet on his con- stancy !” “On the contrary,” said Nelly, as she rose slowly from the little couch where she was reclining (and her small figure grew erect, and her large eyes lustrous); “I would marry no man who could not pass through such an ordeal and remain true to me. Iam, as you see, hopelessly plain and ungraceful; yet, from my earliest childhood, I have been a passionate worshipper of beauty. I never expected to win love. I never expected to marry; and when Fitz, with all his matchless beauty, sued for my hand, I could not convince myself that it was not all a bewildering dream. It was such a tempta- tion to a heart so isolated as mine; and eloquently it pleaded for itself! When I drank in the music of his voice, I said, ‘Surely, I must be lovely in his eyes, else why has he sought me?’ Then, in my soli- tary moments, I said, sadly, ‘There are none to dispute the prize with me here. He is deceiving himself.. He has mistaken his own heart.’ Then, again, I would ask myself, ‘Can nothing but beauty win a noble heart ? Are all my intellectual gifts valueless ?’ And still Fitz, unable to understand my contradictory moods, passionately urged his suit. It needed not that waste of eloquence. My heart was already captive. And now, by the intensity of that happiness of which I know myself to be capable, I will prove him. Kate’s beauty, Kate’s witchery shall be the test! If his heart remains loyal to me, lam his. If not’”—and her cheek grew pale, and tears gathered slowly in her eyes—“I have saved myself a deeper misery !”’ Fitz-Allan had “ travelled ;” and that is generally understood to mean to go abroad, and remain a period of time long enough to grow a fierce beard and fiercer moustache, and cultivate a thorough contempt for every- thing in your own country. This was not true of Fitz-Allan. It had only bound him the more closely to home and friends. His elegant person and cultivated manners had been a letter of recommendation to him in cultivated society. He was no fop; and yet he was fully aware of these personal advan- tages. What handsome man is not? He had trophies of all kinds to attest his skilful generalship; such as dainty satin slippers, tiny kid gloves, faded roses, ringlets of all 332 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. colors, — ebony, flaxen, and auburn; and byouterte without limit. Happy Fitz! What spell bound him to the plain but loveable Nelly? A nature essentially feminine; a refined, cultivated taste; a warm, passionate heart. Did he re- member, when he listened to that most musical of musical voices, and sat hour after hour, magnetised by its rare witchery, as it glanced gracefully and skilfully from one topic to another, that its possessor had not the grace and beauty of a Hebe or a Venus? It was a bright moonlight evening. Fitz and Nelly were seated in the little rustic parlor opening upon the piazza. The moon shone full upon Kate, as she stood in the low doorway. Her simple white dress was confined at the waist by a plain silken cord. Her fair white shoulders rose gracefully from the snowy robe. Her white arms, as they were crossed upon her breast, or raised above her head, to catch playfully the long tendrils of the woodbine, as the wind swept them past her forehead, gleamed fair in the moon— light ; and each and all had their bewildering charm. She seated herself upon the low doorstep. Song after song was borne upon the air; her eyes now flashing with the enthusiasm of an improvisatrice; then soft and lustrous, and liquid, and—dangerous! Nelly’s heart beat quick; a deep crimson spot glowed upon her cheek ; and, for once, she was beautiful. Kate apparently took but little notice of the lovers; but uot an expression that flitted across the fine face of Fitz-Allan passed | unnoticed by her. And she said proudly to herself, ‘‘ I haye conquered him !” And so the bright summer month passed by, and they rambled through the cool woods, and rode through the winding. paths, and sang to the quiet stars in the dim dewy evening. ® 2 & ® “Fie, Mr. Fitz-Allan! What would Nelly say to see you kneeling here at my feet? You forget,” said the gay beauty, mockingly curling her rosy lip,“ that you are an affianced lover, when you address such flattering language to me!” “J only know that you are beautiful as a dream!” said the bewildered Fitz, as he passionately kissed the jewelled hand that lay unresistingly in his own. That night Fitz might be seen pacing his room with rapid strides, crushing in his hands a delicate note from Nelly, containing these words : — “The moon looks on many brooks; the brook sees but one moon. “oN ” ELLY, Here we see a true picture of human life and human nature. Nelly had a heart, but nb eauty. Kate was indeed beautiful, but had no heart. Let us then seriously ask ourselves,—which is the more desirable of the two? This little tale is worth its weight in gold, if we only read it profitably. We are all mixed up init; and not one of us, if we be honest, can say that Fanny Fern has not found out “our tender part.” We again say,—‘‘ Beware !” THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON. ‘¢ Christmas comes but once a year!” Nopopy, Sir, wishes to be troublesome less than I do; but, if anybody can give a satisfactory reason for what everybody does, perhaps somebody will be so good as to tell me why the epithet “merry”’ is exclusively applied to this season of the year—when eighteen hundred and fifty-three proofs of its inapplicability have now stared the world in the face. Is it merry, when you put your feet out of bed in the morning, to feel as if you put them into a pail of cold-water? Is it merry to have your back-bone iced? Is it merry to have raw steaks on your plate, and raw chaps on your hand? Is it merry to have rent and taxes to pay ? Is it merry, when you put your nose out-of-doors, to encounter a north-east wind which you could swear was made at Sheffield? Is it merry to slip, to break a button off your trowsers, and then to be told that it’s fine bracing weather? Is it merry to meet with cold friends? Is half- melted snow merry? Is afog merry? Is sleet merry? Assuredly, to my thinking, none of these things are in themselves merry —however meritorious in us it may be to bear them patiently. But I anticipate; you shall hear my adventures upon last Christmas Monday, and then judge whether or not my complaints are seasonable. All sorts of people wish me “a merry Christmas,’ though most of them do some- thing to me at the same time which prevents the possibility of its being so. I took pos- session on Sunday last of a new house. The rain found its way through the ceiling in the night, and [awoke on Monday morning with an excruciating rheumatism. “A merry Christmas to you, sir,” said the servant, as she opened the shutters and enlightened me as to the cause of my sufferings. ‘Thank you,” said I, as well as a fresh twinge would let me. I got up with plenty of rheum in my head and plenty of smoke in my room; with one pain more than I wanted in my body, and one pane less than I wanted in my win- dow. The water in my wash-hand stand was frozen, and the water sent me to shave with scarcely warm. My tooth-brushes were lumps of ice, and cut my chin with my razor just as my daughter tapped at my room-door and called out, ‘‘ Merry Christmas, Papa !”’ KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 333 At length, my dressing completed, I re- solved to give the servant one for sending me the lukewarm water ; so I ran down-stairs, and over the cook with the boiling kettle in her hand. “ You'll find this hotter, sir,” said she, as she spilled some over me, and wished me “a merry Christmas.” Half-an-hour after my time I sat down to a hasty breakfast— ‘‘ A merry Christmas to you, my dear,” said my wife; ‘‘andlet me have some money, will you, before you go out?” “'Thank you,” said I. “What ‘color will you have the parlor curtains ? ” said she. “Any color,” said]; “dun, if you like.” ‘‘Dun!” said she, and bang came a single knock at the street door— “You are wanted, sir;” and out I went. A bird of prey, with a long bill, stood on the mat :— ‘‘My master wishes you a merry Christ- mas, sir, and says he won’t wait any longer for his money.”’ “Tell him he’s one of those over-polite people who mistake pressing for kindness,” said I; and, snatching my hat, Irushed past him, and out of the house. ‘Chis brought me into contact with the baker’s man, who half covered me with flour, and wished me ‘“‘a merry Christmas”—just as I put my foot on a slide, and tumbled on my back. I made him no answer, for I only caught his words as I fell. Cut, bruised, scalded, and too late, I took a cab. “T hope,” said the cabman’s “ friend,” “your honor will give me a trifle, to drink your health this Christmas ? ” I was about to do so— ‘* Ah! thank your honor,” said he; “and a merry Christmas to you.” As if at the very sound of the words, the horse made a plunge, tripped, fell on his side, threw me out, and scattered my silver in all directions. As Llay sprawling, a malicious friend, who was driving past in his gig, called out, “A merry Christmas to you, Tom!” The situation was comical in spite of all; so I burst out laughing, and my lip burst out bleeding. As the cabriolet had dropped me, L dropped it—and walked. Several friends whom I met wished me “a merry Christ- mas ;” but I had bitten the dust, and swal- lowed the fog, and I couldn’t answer them for coughing. While at my office, nobody called on me with money ; but twenty people called on me for some, in the shape of Christ- mas boxes,—the only change I got, in each case, being, “A merry Christmas to you, sir.” Never mind, thought I; I am engaged to a capital dinner and shall meet a jolly party. The time approached, and I left the office. At the door I was met by an urchin, who wished me “a merry Christmas,” showed me his Christmas-piece, and asked me for a Christmas-box. Out of all patience, I told him [had no peace at Christmas myself, and gave him a Christmas-box on the ear—pro- mising, if he came again, that I would give him another, another year. Leaving him, I encountered -a croaking old neighbor, who drawled out, in a most dismal tone of voice, ‘Merry Christmas to you, friend; the cho- lera’s spreading fast, I perceive.” Arrived almost within a street’s length of the promised feast, I heard a strange voice behind me say, “ Merry Christmas to you, sir; at the same time, I felt a familiar tap on the shoulder, and, turning round, beheld John Doe and Richard Roe. I was marched off to a lock-up house. ‘“ A merry Christmas to you,” said the keeper, as he turned the key upon me, and left me in a room without food or fire. I summoned, in succession, three supposed friends, who, one after another, refused to bail me,—but each wished me “a merry Christmas ” as he went away. Disappointed and wretched, I sent for an attorney of the Insolvent Court, who told me that, as soonas I could let him have ten pounds to begin with, I might send for him again. As he was going, I called after him, to inquire how soon he thought I could get liberated. ‘“ About the end of March,” he answered; and, wish- ing me “a merry Christmas,” shut the door. For the last twenty years—that is to say, ever since I have been married and wnsettled —such, or some such, has been my comic an- nual. What wonder, then, if I hate the sound of that which to me is but a sound ?— if I begin to doubt whether there is, in reality, any such thing as a merry Christ- mas ?—and if the one solitary pleasure I felt on Monday last, was not in giving sixpence to a melancholy mendicant, in return for his reminding me “that it only came once a year?” December 31st. C. D. VIRTUE AND VICE. Virtvz is not a mushroom, that springeth up of itself in one night, when we are asleep. It is a delicate plant, that groweth slowly and tenderly, needing much pains to cultivate it, much care to guard it, much time to mature it. Neither is vice a spirit that will be conjured away witha charm, slain with a single blow, or despatched by one stab. Who then will be so foolish as to leave the eradicating of vice, and the planting in of virtue into its place, toa few years or weeks? Yet he who procrastinates his repentance, grossly does so. With his eyes open, he abridges the time allotted for the longest and most important | work he has to perform. He is a fool. 334 THE TRIUMPH OF ART. —— In forming artists, ‘“‘ Art’”’ hath thus decreed,— To make some good, but others to EXCEED. SHAKSPEARE. ART TRIUMPHS MOST when its produc- tions closely resemble NATURE. ‘Thus, it is a compliment to say of it that it produces the impression of the actual scene. Ars est celare artem. In Venice, the paintings of Titian and of the Venetian artists generally exact from the traveller a yet higher tribute, for the hues and forms around him constantly remind him of their works. It is curious and instructive to trace the natural relation of cause and effect between the atmosphere and scenery of Venice and the peculiar characteristics of the Venetian school. Under the circumstances in which we usually see the landscape, the earth absorbs a considerable portion of the light which falls from the Heavens; but inVenice every- thing multiplies and increases it. The sea is a wide and glittering mirror, and every ripple and wave, and every oar-blade, like the facets of a gem, breaks and scatters the incident ray. ‘Vhe rich marble fronts of the palaces lend themselves to the same results. Thus the air in Venice seems saturated with sunbeams, and the shadows themselves are only veiled and softened lights. Such an atmosphere seems to demand a corresponding style of dress, decoration, and architecture. Gilding and polished marble, which, under the grey sky, and in the watery light of England, would seem tawdry, are here neces- sary embellishments. The richest and brightest colors,—red, yellow, and purple, content the eye from their being so in unison with the dazzling and luminous medium through which everything is seen. ‘The Venetian painters were evidently diligent students of the nature that was around them. They have transferred to their canvas all the magic effects produced by the combination of air, light, and water. ‘There are pictures by Titian, so steeped in golden splendors that they look as if they would light up a dark room, like a solar lamp. The pictures which are to be seen in the academy are a tempting theme; but I will not descant upon them. It is very easy to transcribe the emotions which paintings awaken, but it isno easy matter to say why a picture is so painted as that it must awaken certain emotions. Many persons feel art; some understand it—but few feel and understand it. But there is an element of compensation in all things. The want of a nicely critical skill in art is not on all accounts to be regretted. When I stood before Titian’s “‘ Assumption of the Virgin,” and felt as if lifted off my feet by the power and beauty of that incom- parable picture, I could not lament that I KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. did not see the slight imperfections in drawing and design which more trained and more fastidious eyes detect in it. The works of Paul Veronese are not of the highest merit, by any means, but they are valuable as illustrations of Venetian life and manners. There is a large picture of his, occupying one end of a room in the Academy, the “ Supper at the House of Levi,” which is a fair specimen of his excellences and defects. It wants imagination, depth of feeling, and spiritual beauty, and there is a touch of the upholsterer in its conception and treatment. It is, moreover, historically untrue, with no Jewish or Oriental features in it; but is really a splendid entertainment in Venice, with Venetian noblemen and women for guests. But though other pictures are more admi- rable, few are more ‘fascinating than this. Its power over the spectatoris quite magnetic. There is such brilliant coloring, such admi- rable perspective, such depth and transpa- rency of atmosphere, such life and movement, that the longer you look upon it the more it seems like a real scene. You begin to wonder that the servants linger so long upon the stairs, and that the impatient master, who seems to be quickening their steps, does not rejoin his guests. Even its anachronisms have now a value of their own, since the time of the event and the time of the picture are equal to us in the remote past. It is true that it is not Judeea; but it is a most living Venice. These were the men, the politic sages, the accomplished noblemen, the gallant soldiers, that upheld so long the state of Venice, and bore her winged lion over so many lands and seas. These were the superb and impassioned women to whom their vows were breathed, and at whose feet their laurels were laid. Such pictures are historical in more senses than one. They have an authentic value as records, and are silent contemporary witnesses to the splendor and glory of Venice. THE CHILD’S FIRST LESSON. No teaching is there like a mother’s! No lessons sink into the virgin soil of childhood so deeply as those learned at a mother’s knee. The seed sown thus may then be hidden for years; but it still lives, and influences the life and actions of the learner ever after. Ill fares it with the man who has no remembrance of kneeling, as a child, beside his mother’s knee, and learning his first lesson from her lips. He knows nothing of’ life’s holiest memories. Great is the responsibility of the mother who confides her child’s first teachings to another—who allows a stranger to write on the tablets of her child’s mind that which will bias its whole life career, and be as indestructible as the mind itself. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. OUTPOURINGS OF AFFECTION. ON THE BIRTH OF A DAUGHTER. BY THE AUTHOR OF “THE NECKLACE.” Gop, I thank thee for the blessing Of a lot with mercy rife, For the babe my arm is pressing, For its mother’s precious life. Thou hast made that mother dearer, If a fonder tie could be, Since her love hath been the bearer Of so sweet a pledge to me. With thy mother’s tear of gladness, Still, my child, thy cheek is wet; Never may’st thou cause her saduess, Never bring her love regret. Oh! be thou the sweetest pleasure That her soul as yet hath found ; When she seeks affection’s treasure, Be thy heart prolific ground. When hopes perish, friends forsake thee, Pleasures pall, or joys decline, To a mother’s breast betake thee; ’Tis of love a lasting mine. Springs of pleasure fresh and smiling There will flow, my child, for thee : Let not worldly streams defiling Mingle with their purity. Dost thou fear a father’s kisses, That thou turns’t thine eyes from me ? "Tis a fonder breast she misses ; Nature speaks, my abe, in thee. Go then, dear and tender blossom, Firstling of our little fold; Nestle in thy mother’s bosom— "Tis a clime can ne’er grow cold. Go, my love; I cannot chide thee That for hers thou leav’st my breast; Still when cares or joys have tried me, There has been my happiest rest. She has been earth’s richest dower, She my spirit’s priceless gem ; Fold thy tiny arms, sweet flower, Round thy dear and parent stem. God of mercy, who hast given This new link to bind our love, Kindly grant us light from Heaven, Worthy of our task to prove ! Give our tender cares thy blessing, Fill our hearts with grace divine; Let the babe our arms are pressing, Father—Mother—attu Be THrne ! OUR ENGLISH CLIMATE. THE MOIST AND FOGGY CLIMATE of England is proverbial with foreigners, and a matter of half-melancholy joke with English- men themselves. ‘The perpetual verdure of our fields bespeaks us denizens of a rainy zone—inhabitants of an intermitting shower- bath. Our speech betrayeth us; the weather is ever uppermost in our thoughts, and the first thing spoken of when friends meet. . 335 Aquarius is our constellation. The natives of such aclime might naturally be imagined as exempt from fear of rain as Mephistophiles alleges Faust ought to be from fear of fire. It is their element; which, they ought to know, cannot harm them or theirs. Yet they are as shy of rain as a kitten of dew, when it first ventures abroad of a morning. England is a land where short crops occasionally occur, but where the years of utter blight, which often lay other lands desolate, are scarcely known. Despite our frequent wet, raw, and ungenial summers, within the memory of our fathers and fathers’ fathers seed time and harvest have not failed. Yet to an Englishman a wet July immediately conjures up visions of famine, with pestilence and bankruptcies in its train. Burns was wrong when he said that they who are ‘ constantly on poortith’s brink” are little territied by the sight. It is only those who are steeped in it over head and ears who become resigned to their fate. It is in those to whom a chance of emerging seems still open, that the fear is strongest ; to which the thoughtless Dives and the des- perate Lazarus are alike inaccessible. And so with Englishmen and the weather. Were their climate one in which no corn could grow, they would never think of crops; and were it so genial that the crops were always redundant, they wonld wax insensible to the blessing from sheer excess. But, living in a region to which hope ever comes, and from which fear never entirely departs, they abandon themselves too readily to unmanly fears. They are weather valetudinarians, a nation of Gratianos—‘“the wind cooling their broth blows them to an ague.” One thing, however, is certain,—viz., that although the climate 7s so changeable, and rains pour down so incessantly, yet do Englishmen and English crops, like English frogs, take a great deal of drowning ! EARLY IMPRESSIONS. CHILDHOOD’S INNOCENCE, I WILL NOT FLATTER YOU, my dear sir, by telling you in what repute you are held in Devonshire (perhaps you already have heard of it),—suffice it, that whatever you say is received here with more than common favor and interest. ’ Your former remarks on “‘A Child’s Heart” (see vol. i1i., page 209), and your more recent extensive observations upon children (scat- tered over very many pages of OUR JOURNAL), induce me to send you the following, which (we all think here) deserve a place in your “pleasant pages.” The present mode of educating children is, as you remark, barbarous indeed! The 336 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. minds and bodies of these little innocents are equally deformed,—nature being altogether sacrificed to pride, ignorance, ‘‘ Fashion,” (your enemy !) and folly. Like yourself, I dearly love children, and delight in leading their youthful, expanding minds, to those mnocent inquiries which, pro- perly replied to, form the basis of their “early education.”’ I quite agree with you,— that we can pever begin too soon to teach a child what it ought to know. The more gra- dual its progress, the better. As for those nurses and others, to whose care these embryo men and women are usu- ally confided,—vous avez raison. To them are mainly attributable three-fourths of a child’s bad habits. How can it be otherwise ? Badly taught and instructed themselves, they of course instil into a child’s mind their own ideas of right and wrong. “Odd” ideas are they, truly! But my object, to-day, is not to write an essay. I merely prefix these few observa- tions to an extract or two I have copied for you, from an article in “ Household Words” (the writer’s name does not appear). The extracts are purposely short; because I am anxious to impress the sentiments upon your readers’ minds :—~ “T have never seen a child feed a don- key with macaroons, but I have seen one little girl press pound-cake upon a Shetland pony, and another little girl give half of her cake to a four-footed acquaint- ance of the Newfoundland breed. I have watched the charitable instincts of children from babyhood to schoolhood, when hopes and cankering fears, desire of praise, solici- tude for favor, and lust of gain begin; shut- ting up charity in an iron-bound strong box of small-worldliness. “Children love to give. Is it to feed the ducks in the park, or slide warm pennies into the palsied hands of cripples, or drop them into the trays of blind men’s dogs, or pop them, smiling, into the slits of money-boxes, or administer eleemosynary sustenance to Bunny and Tiny the rabbits, or give the pig a ‘poon?’—to give is indeed their delight. They want no tuition in charity: it is in them, God-sent. “Yonder little chubby sheet of blank sta- tionery, who is mumbling a piece of parlia- ment in his nurse’s arms, has scarcely con- sciousness of muscular power sufficient to teach him to hold the sweetmeat fast. Yet, if I ask baby—half by word, half by ges- ture—to give me a bit, this young short- coated Samaritan—who not long since began to take notice, and can only just ejaculate Da-da! ma-ma!’— will gravely remove the parliament from his own lips and offer it to mine. Were he a very few months older, he would clutch it tighter in his tiny hand, and break a piece off, and give it me. Js not this charity 2” What a sweet commentary have we here, on Nature’s lavish bounties to children! And yet, how hard do people labor to destroy the innocence that ought to be so enchanting ! But now !et me direct your attention to the innate “love” of babyhood :— The first words children utter are words of ‘love.’ And these are not necessarily taught them. Their very inarticulate ejaculations are full of love. They love all things.. The parrot, though he bites them; the cat, though she scratches; the great bushy blundering house-dog; the poultry in the yard; the wooden-legged, one- eyed negro who brings the beer ; the country lout with clouted shoon who smells so ter- ribly of the stable; the red-faced cook; the grubby little knife-boy ; the foolish, fat, seul- lion; the cross nurse. They love all these. And so they do horses, trees, gardens, and toys,—breaking their little hearts (easily mended. again, thank Heaven !) if they are obliged to part from them. “And, chiefer still, they love that large man with the gruff voice, the blue rough chin the large eyes, whose knees comprise such an inexhaustible supply of cock-horses, always standing at livery, yet always ready to ride post-haste to Coventry. They love papa. And, chiefest of all, they love her of the soft voice, the smiles, the tears, the hopes, the cares, the tenderness—who is all in all, the first, the last to them in their tender, fragile happy childhood. “Mamma is the centre of love. Papa was an after acquaintance. He improves upon ac- quaintance, too. But mamma was always with them—to love, to soothe, to caress, to care for, to watch over. When a child wakes up hot and feverish from some night dream, it is upon his mother he calls. Mach childish pain, each childish grief, each childish difficulty is to be soothed, assuaged, explained by her. They have no secrets; they understand each other. The child clings to her. The little boy in the Greek epigram that was creeping down a precipice, was invited to his safety, when nothing else could induce him to return, by the sight of his mother’s breast.” Now, my dear sir, have we not here all the elementary matter for a good education? Such pliable materials! Such an honest guileless heart to work upon! Such pure, such natural, such innocent soil to receive the seed sown! And yet, alas! what use do we make of it? The answer is best given by looking upon the sad state of society which now exists among us. We are altogether hollow, altogether unnatural ; and positively prefer deception to the unspeakable delights arising from the practice of innocence and virtue ! Twerton, Dec. 2nd. ARABELLA. a KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. MORE ABOUT “LITTLE THINGS.” ce By ‘OUR EDITOR.” Take sound Apvicg, proceeding from a heart Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art. DRYDEN. UESTIONABLE INDEED IS THAT MAN’S LOVE FOR MAN- KIND, who, knowing what is right, yet withholds that knowledge from his’ fellow- man. Most of us offend from the want of thought ; and as the object of “ Our JOURNAL” is to make people “think,” we shall try and accomplish that object as kindly as may be. “A word fitly spoken, is like apples of gold in pictures of silver.” Our much-esteemed correspondent, Ca- THARINA, has invited us to dwell often upon “ Little Things.”” She says, and with truth, that life is made up of such; and that it is greatly in our power to make each other happy by attending to what are called “trifles.’”’ How true this is! We are for ever harping upon a similar string. It is nearly a twelvemonth since we wrote an article entitled ‘“ Little Kindnesses” (see vol. iii., p. 7). We had no idea, at the time, that there was in it anything of extraordinary interest, although we felt delighted whilst penning it. We are quite wrong in this opinion. That paper has been referred to times out of number. Indeed, it has been the means of our receiving “ proofs” innu- merable (through the post, and by private hand) of the impression it made on the minds of our readers. We always receive these welcome offerings, be it known, with real pleasure. Nor have certain of these “little things” failed to bring us into friendly inti- macy with the senders thereof. We owe to them an unceasing debt of gratitude. We have contracted friendships which will ter- minate only in death. This is the very season tor an observance of “little things.”’ A person may not be able to be charitable to any great extent. He may not be able to clothe a poor family ; but he may be able to give them a meal. By a little self-denial, he may also do something more than this. He might, too, get a friend to aid him in a good cause: and the two mites united might procure a flannel waist- coat, some stockings, and other warm ap- parel. A supply of fuel, too, might be sent in to gladden some sorrowful hearts. Where there is a will in these matters, there is generally a way. Only let the disposition exist. We are often surprised at the apathy that exists in some; the extravagance in others ; the thoughtlessness in the many; and the waste in all,—at a time, too, when the suffer- Vout. TV.—22. ings of the poor call so loudly for relief. Surely, this thoughtlessness is culpable! Those who most deserve relief are people who, though willing, are unable to obtain work. We advocate not the cause of the idle or indolent, neither do we put in a single word for beggars. We believe these last to be arrant impostors in at least ninety-nine cases out of every hundred. All who relieve them do a serious injury to society; for beggars live and feast, whilst the deserving exist and starve. This is a “little thing,” but worthy attention. In our neighborhood, beggars swarm. There are organised groups of them, who have their regular rounds on regular days in the week. Sturdy vagabonds are the men— terrible, some of them, to look upon; and they are mostly armed with thick sticks, to enforce charity. The women are sent in to knock at the door, whilst the men retire be- hind the walls without; and if a female only be visible, the beggars try to obtain an entry by placing one of their hands inside the door, defying her to crush it. If she use force, one of the men rushes in, and a row is the consequence. On such occasions many articles disappear from the passage,—hats, cloaks, umbrellas, &c. This is a matter of constant occurrence, and we give this as a friendly warning. Good people—always keep your garden-gates locked, and fasten up every door and window securely at night. Thus alone will you be safe during the coming winter. This is a ‘‘little thing,’’—but it is of great consequence. Connected with “little things,” CaTHa- RINA refers us to a small book bearing that title. We have procured it; and it is, as she says, suggestive of much that must tend to domestic happiness. It points out, very forcibly, all wherein we are deficient. It shows us the evil of self-indulgence; how, whenever “little duties” are neglected, dis- comfort and discontent invariably follow. It speaks charmingly, too, of the many ad- vantages derivable from method, order, and punctuality—things in which women are usually far behind, but which really are of immense importance. Each one of a thousand acts of love costs very little by itself; and yet, when viewed altogether, who can estimate their value? What is it that secures for one the name of a kind neighbor? Not the doing of half-a- dozen great favors in as many years. No! But the little every-day kindnesses, (neither of which seems of much consequence con- sidered in itself,) which, by their continued repetition, throw a sunlight over the whole neighborhood. It is so, too, in the family. The child whose good offices are always ready when they are wanted—to run up- stairs or down, to rock the cradle or to run BS 338 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. on an errand, and all with a cheerful look and pleasant teusper—has a reward attending such good deeds. her grandfather on her lap, as he takes her on his, she can get his slippers, or put away his book, or gently comb his thin locks ; and, whether she thinks of it or not, these little kindnesses, coming from a loving heart, are the sunbeams that lghten up the world we live in. A loving heart and an affec- tionate disposition, however, want no prompt- ing. As regards ourselfi—when we cease to love, we shall cease to live. Life without love, is as a body without a soul. Early rising is another point strongly in- ‘isted on; and the reasons “ why” are ex- cellent. In England, laziness is carried out to a fearful extent; nor is it unusual to see people creep down to breakfast with their eyes hardly open. This, among all classes. Housekeeping duties are then hinted at, and rules given to make them sit easy. We are also shown the folly of not beg “ ready” when dinner is announced—keeping the com- pany waiting, &c. All these evils exist, more or less, in half the families in the kingdom. The following is worthy of attention :— ‘There is an old saying, which was often repeated to me in my youth—‘ Can dois easily carried about with you.’ And really I think it amounts to a duty in woman to attend to this saying, for we hardly ever learn to do anything that we do not find the advantage of at some time or other. Some persons are naturally more neat-handed and notable than others; but every woman should en- deavor to learn all she can of the little arts that make life comfortable; and above all,.of whatever can make her useful in a sick-room. No doubt the same qualities of method, order, and good management, will show themselves in every department of duty ; but much may be gained by observation, and a desire to learn, from whatever source. “There are some people who never go from home without bringing back some use- ful hint in housekeeping, in the arrangement of a room, the order of the table ; or, it may be, the planning and planting of the flower- garden. ‘These are the persons who know the best way of doing everything; their homes may be known by the air of comfort and elegance they contrive to give by attention to little things; not merely by tidiness, but by tasteful arrangement, and a degree of attention to decoration. Some one speaks of the little things that mark the whereabouts of woman—flowers especially do so; and trifling as some may think it, I up- hold it as one of our little duties, to make our homes not only as comfortable, but as pretty and pleasing as possible. “There are some people who pay no heed to niceties of this kind, either esteeming them If a little girl cannot take | their personal attire is always unlike other beneath their care, or not having taste enough to feel the want of them. ‘Their rooms have a blank, uncomfortable, uninhabited look ; people’s, they never seem to notice any im- proved way of managing little matters, or they do not like the trouble of learning and practising it; and it is ten chances to one, that by beginning with despising decoration and taste, they end by neglecting comfort.” There is a great deal of truth in the fore- going. We could easily judge of the mis- tress, by a peep at the arrangement of her rooms and garden. We are always advocating cheerfulness and good humor. Let us hear what the book says about these :— “The duty of being always in a good humor is so important, ihat I hardly should enumerate it among little things ; but all else is almost valueless without it. It is like the soft balmy air and bright sunshine of a sum- mer’s morn, which when we feel and breathe, we think no other enjoyment can equal; with- out which the finest landscape wants a charm, and with which, the dreariest moorland is bright and beautiful. Great duties, great kindnesses, lose much of their virtue and power to benefit others, 1f not performed in this spirit; and little duties and little kind- nesses are indeed nothing without the sun- shine of cheerful good humor to gild and adorn them. Akin to this, is the duty of culti- vating a cheerful disposition,—a disposition to be easily pleased. There are persons to whom this seems natural, who are always pleased; andwe all feel how much more agreeable it is to have anything to do with them, than with those who, either from in- difference or discontent, are seldom or never pleased. By this duty, however, I mean rather more than merely not being discon- tented—I mean the disposition to show that we are pleased, a good-humored way of re- ceiving little services, a readiness to admire what we see others wish us to like, and a willingness to ‘do unto others as we wish they should do unto us,’—the reverse, in short, of a captious fault-finding spirit. “Tt may be alleged that a careful attention to some of these little duties may lead to an irksome particularity, a teasing habit of for ever putting to rights, and toa neglect of more important concerns. This will never be the case, however, if we remember to perform little duties with a large spirit, and consider first the comfort of others.” “We shall now conclude this paper. In other parts of OuR JouRNAL ‘will be found many similar sentiments; nor shall we ever cease to advocate the observance of “Little Things.” Sweeteners are they of life, on the one hand ; or perpetual sources of discomfort and annoy- ance on the other. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. FROM THE LADIES OF DEVONSHIRE. Dip you not say, “Dear Mr. Kidd,” You lov’d the fair sex? We believe you. {'True, ladies, true; we do,—we did, We would not for the world deceive you.] Well; let us whisper in your ear A little secret,—entre nous : We wish you many a happy year, And frankly tell you that—Wer Love you. [ Sensation. | We love you. Yes; ‘ Our Editor” Is worthy of our confidence. Not “one” is there superior In kindness, “‘ heart,’’ benevolence. Should sorrow e’er predominate, You kindly soothe—and share it too; And like us, you abominate Cant and deceit. [Indeed we do!] We love you, though you do condemn With merciless severity The “ Fashions” of the day [A—hem !|— It proves so your sincerity ! But though the wild contagion spreads, There’s nothing to excite owr fears; WE wear our bonnets on our heads, ““ Modest” ow faces,—eyes,—and ears ! “ Your Journat,” too, we love; and note With great delight its healthy tone ; Cherish the kindness you promote, And proudly hail it as,—“ Our Own.” Nothing you write can cause a blush, You love to have us “ wise and merry,”— But once* you told a lady [ H-u-s-h!] You thought her smile “bewitching,” very. We love you for your friendly care In saving many a “ pet,’’—our treasure ; When, almost yielding to despair, Your voice has chang’d our pain to pleasure. Acar then we our thanks express, Such kindness we cai ner repay ; But we will pray for your “ succsss,” And “Many A Happy New Yuar’s Day!” [The lady to whom we are indebted for the above ‘‘ Presentation” is ‘ the” Devon- shire Dove. (That loved county would seem to abound in doves.) In a specimen of cali- graphy, perfectly bewildering from its ex- treme beauty, the signature attached is simply, | -CoLuMBA DEVONIENSIS. Torquay, Dec. 9. * We are fearful we may have said this to more than one lady; as our memory, on the present occasion, really is at fault—Ep. K. J. Houmiuiry ever dwells with men of noble minds. It is a flower that prospers not in lean and barren soils ; but in a ground that is rich, it flourishes and is beautiful —FrLtaam. 339 Kewirw, THE NATuRALIST.—No. 31. Groombridge and Sons. Among the interesting papers in the present number, are three to which we direct special attention. The first is a very proper con- demnation of ‘ Jennings’ Eggs of British Birds ;” a book which has been carelessly got up, is wretchedly illustrated, and in every respect faulty. It formsa strange contrast to the admirable work (by the Rey. F. O. Morris) on a similar subject, and published monthly. If birds are to be figured and colored, let them be something like nature ; else are they valueless. The second paper we have referred to, is by Mr. William Thompson, of Weymouth. From this we borrow a few interesting ob- servations relating to THE LOBSTER. Lobsters are caught by means of pots, made of withys, with the bars some little distance apart, or in nets; in either case the bars of the pot, or the meshes of the net, allow all but such as are of a marketable size to pass; and as Lobsters lay amongst rocks where no net can reach, they are safe from all danger, except what they themselves run into: this is the reason that the young are so seldom seen. In the months of August, September, and October, pots are laid down for Prawns (Palemon serratus), and then we sometimes obtain small Lobsters. ‘The Prawn-pots are made precisely the same pattern as the Lobster-pots, but smailer, and the open bars closer together, in order to prevent the egress of the Prawn—this also prevents the escape of the Lobster. There are now in the Aquavivarium of the Zoological Society, five Lobsters. All of them were obtained in Prawn-pots ; the smallest is four inches in length, and the largest about five. These five Lobsters were kept some time in a perforated box, moored in the tideway ; in this box were also placed Cottus bubalis, and some specimens alive of the Solenette Monochirus linguatulus. Some days after, on opening the box, I found nothing but some remains of the Solenettes. On putting some more specimens in the box I took out the Cottus, believing them to be the evil doers; especially as a day or two previous, having missed several Syngnathi, I found one coiled away in the stomach of a Cottus, giving its destroyer a very extraordinary appear- ance. With all my precautions, still the Solenettes dis- appeared; and I succeeded in tracing home the crime to the Lobsters, one of which I caught— flagrante delicto. The following shows the large quantity exported from Norway from 1815 to 1835; it is taken from a book entitled ‘“‘ Norway and the Norwegians,” by R. G. Latham :—‘‘ From 1815 to 1835 there was exported from Norway the following quantity of Lobsters, in round numbers :—1815 to 1819, six hundred and five thousand ; 1820 to 1824, nine hundred and twenty-seven thousand; 1825 to abdomen and. claws is wanting. 340 KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 1829, one million, three hundred and twenty thousand; 1830 to 1835, seven hundred and eighty- -four_ thousand: making a grand total of three millions, six hundred and thirty-six thousand.” A. single Lobster costs in Norway three-half- pence; a trifling duty is laid upon them when they leave the country. ‘The London market chiefly monopolises the supply. The Norway Lobster season is in the winter; then then bite more freely: they are not caught in June. ‘This differs from the times Lobsters are caught in this part of the coast. The Portland and North Shore Lobster-catcher prepares his pots about March, and continues them as long as the weather will permit—that alone deciding him when to bring his pots ashore. Warm and fine weather are here necessary to the success of the Lobster-catcher. Here, as elsewhere, the color of the Lobste1 varies very much ; and the fishermen can tell by the color whether it has been caught off Portland or the North Shore, distant about eight miles from each other. . The Norway Lobsters are purchased before they are caught. ‘They pass the time between capture e ° ? . ° e 2) ’ 2 4 C Glas y 5) wy k ; 5 : g ; mre 6 ‘ X Dear (" ’ ° a Nweras re 1 al ‘ on) OO rs) 3 ; acs , b) ° onits 3 ? 9 We R2)y) V 7 4 1 5 og % 5 c=) ° ) ° : i 5 e ‘ co) . 5 5 ? 5 5 ? } 5 i ; HEN , e . . e ° j : a7) . e z ? ne a 7 y) fo} IS } 7% ; - or ? 5 4 ; ’ . . . ? ° 2 mé & D 5 ‘ yy 5 : 5 eA CB ELANE 5 7 2 ? a\ s (; y ? r] and embarkation in flat tanks, pierced with holes, and half sunk, lying off the neighborhood of Laurvig; in this manner they wait weeks, and even months, before they are shipped for market. The Norway Lobsters are smaller than those which are caught on the English coast ; they also vary much in color, some being of a light blue, or occasionally one side is black; whilst the other is white—this is a rarity. They fight a great deal amongst themselves: hence the great number of one-clawed Lobsters we see on the fishmongers stalls. Lobsters are naturally voracious ; but “ during their confinement,” says Mr. Latham, “ they eat nothing ;”’ my experience tells me they will eat if they can get food; but they are generally packed close with no food, sothat they have no opportunity of following their inclinations. Any judge of a Lobster can tell whether it has been fresh caught or if it has been caught some time and kept in a preserve. When they have been kept some time, the. epicure’s portion, commonly called the dressing, suffers, both in quantity and quality, and the creamy substance round the Kemales in spawn placed in the tanks are said to remain so; this may happen from the altered condition of the temperature of the water: it cannot arise from the will of the adult any more than could-the hatching of the eggs be interfered with by the moth or butterfly. An export duty is paid before they leave Norway. When they arrive in the Thames, all the dead ones are thrown overboard, asit is illegal to land them. Besides Laurvig, Christiansand and Bergen have a large share in the Lobster trade Mr. Bell states, in “ British Crustacea,” a curious story respecting the strong affection of the Lobster for its young.—One man told Mr. Peach that he had noticed the old Lobster with her head peeping from under arock, and the young ones playing around her. She appeared to rattle her claws on the approach of the fishermen, and _her- self and young took shelter under.the rock. Thus far it is quite credible; but the remark, this rattling no doubt was to give the alarm,—to this I cannot subscribe. _ Lobsters are gregarious, and have their favorite rocks, and that instinct of self- preservation which is born with animals is quite sufficient to drive the young Lobster under the rock at the approach of danger without the care of the parent. The real instinct of animals, even in the lower orders, is sufficiently wonderful without our drawing on fiction. I know from experience that fishermen are not always to be depended upon; and, whether from ignorance or something else, are muck given to exagyveration My father tells me he once caught a Lobsterin a trawl, weighing twelve pounds; and two years since, a Lobster was caught in this bay weighing eight pounds The last article we purpose to notice, is that from the pen of Mr. G. B. Atkinson, of Cork. We wish it were possible to print it in golden letters. It deserves that honor. He will agree with us, we feel quite sure, that if mankind are ‘‘civilised,” they have a remarkably “odd” way of showing it NATURALISTS AND THEIR BRUTALITY It is with the deepest regret that, as each month’s number of ‘‘'The Naturalist” comes to me, I find in its contents little else but accounts of wholesale massacres of those sweet songsters, whose ‘presence enhances so greatly the pleasure one must ever feel in a country walk. A constant war seems to be waged against the feathered members of creation, on the plea of furthering the ends of Science. Should any rare bird make its appearance on our shores, it is very soon captured by some greedy collector of “ specimens, ’—one who styles himself a “ Naturalist :” but does the being a Naturalist consist in filling one’s study or museum with stuffed birds—with empty egg-shells and nests? Are they not all rather monuments of cruelty ? Does the killing of its subjects further the ends of Natural History? Forsooth, if the slaughter increases as it does now, by-and-bye there will be no Natural History at all; or at least but afew scattered remnants of its countless tribes, mourning in solitude their lost companions. Are there then no other means of acquiring a know- ledge of Nature’s subjects than those I so strongly reprobate? How did some of our most learned Naturalists, those who have taught us the most, obtain their knowledge ? Was it by means of the gun? Ah, no! but by observation, by diligent searching into the ways of these happy denizens of the woods. Surely books enough have been written, and are daily increasing, to supply every want of a Naturalist; or should we disdain to ake use of them for our guides, can we not see for ourselves? Among so many learned corres- pondents as there are to this publication, some plan might be contrived,whereby we could under- stand and know, as far as is permitted, these wondrous members of creation, not one of which falls to the ground unless God wills it; and which would dispense with the cruel persecution now almost universally resorted to. Should this succeed | in softeningthe hearts of any of those whose names so frequently figure at the head of Orni- thological and Entomological captures, it will be an abundant repayment—its pages will be filled -KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. with far more interest and instruction, and read, I am certain, with far greater pleasure. Whilst we are now transcribing the remarks of this amiable man, the fields are echoing to the sounds of the gun. Every bird that is deemed “curious,” is being slaughtered; every benumbed little pensioner asking for shelter, mangled. Brave — kind—noble “Sportsmen” and “ Naturalists !” THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON MAGAZINE. Part 7. Piper & Co. This wonderfully cheap, and as admirably conducted periodical, goes a-head. Both its illustrations and matter are full of interest. As we like to preserve the general cha- racter of OUR JOURNAL, it will be seen that, in making our extracts from new and other works, we study the subjects selected—so as to bring them, as much as possible, within our peculiar province. NATURE is our de- light. In no pursuit, apart from this loved mother of ours, can we take pleasure. The subjoined are from an article entitled “The Domestic Animals of Switzerland,” which is penned in an amiable spirit that should reach every honest heart. The writer carries out our views of love and affection to a nicety :— \ GOATS AND CHILDREN IN SWITZERLAND. When the cows are sent to the mountains, the inhabitants of the villages obtain their supplies of butter and milk from the goats. Each family generally possesses one or more of these useful animals. After they are milked in the morning, which is at the break of day, they are turned out of their dormitories ; which, for cows as well as goats, are in most cases under the roof of the dwelling-house, but behind it. At the sound of the Alpine horn, of their own accord they wend their way to the main street of the village. When gathered together, seemingly by instinct, an in- valid cowherd or one of their biggest boys takes charge of them, and drives them beyond the meadows, as far as. the first belt of firs, where they feed during the day. The route of this little army, amounting fre- quently to one or two hundred goats, of every description and color, with the tinkling of so many bells (for they are belled for the same purpose as the cows), winding their way up the mountain- side, is one of the picturesque sights of a Swiss valley. But the fun is, to watch their return as the shades of the evening close in. You will see them hastening with playful impatience, running down the mountain, each one vying with his neighbor. As they draw nigh their home, they will frisk and skirmish one another with their horns, in order to gain the front rank. At the outskirts of the village they are met by a troop of little creatures, who always sally forth to meet their bearded companions. Children not more than three or four years old will run into the middle of the flock, and lay hold of their pets by the neck. Before they do s0, however, many of them are trundled over by a 341 friendly push of the horn. But, in spite of this, the little bipeds will walk off victorious over their four-footed friends, and, with their arms around their necks, conduct them to their quarters for the night. Those who are domiciled at the entrance of the village, if the door is not open for their ad- mission, will stand bleating till it is; while others set off at a canter up the various lanes and by- ways to the chal¢t, where they are housed for the night. When they arrive at the door of their owner, they are generally rewarded with a hand- ful of salt, for which the goat has an extraordinary penchant. This, together with the instinct which tells them that the time of milking is come, will probably account for their unmannerly conduct as they approach their resting-place. We have said these animals have a peculiar longing for salt. Sometimes it happens that you meet, high up in the mountains, with a company who have fairly strayed from their owners, and have herded with the steinbocks or chamois, yet found in the higher Alps bordering on the Mer de Glace. Astonishing is the affection which these creatures manifest for the society of man. Whe- ther it arises from the care taken of them, or from their having been made pets of by the children, I know not; but, certain it is, they will follow you for miles as you climb the mountain-pass, or pass on to the review of the most rugged and stupen- dous rocks. No matter your remonstrances ; on they will come, with all the intrusion of another Paul Pry. Kven blows are of no avail; so the best plan for the traveller is, to submit to their society at once. When they do so, they will find it of the closest description ; pressing against your legs, and leaving nothing undone to attract your attention. They seemed invariably to follow us wherever we went. When we stopped, they stopped ;. and whenever we proceeded, they pressed on also. Thus doing, they reminded me of a game which, when a boy, I have many a time played at, and which, I believe, is called ‘“ Follow my leader.” One would have thought, in following us so closely as they did, the taste for splendid scenery had been imparted ; for it mattered not—the more dangerous the place we would climb, the more readily would they follow us. It could not be that they were in search of pasture, because they had strayed from good and verdant meadows on to the barren rocks and their icy glaciers. Probably, their wonderful predilection for salt may account for all this ostensible affection—a luxury which experience has taught them is to. be found only in the society of man, and to gra- tify which they think no trouble too great to be incurred. Whether instinct teaches them to take it medicinally, as it is said the horse, the cow, and the sheep do, I do not know; I should, how- ever, conceive they do, although some assert they use it as a sort of saline dram-drinking. It always delights me to reflect on the natural and feeling manner in which the Swiss treat their domestic animals: instead of the brutal kick or the stunning blow, they use nothing but kindness, of which the animal itself seems susceptible. Besides this, the gentle treatment of their animals by this pri- mitive people, has an effect on the disposition of their children. The child who is permitted to torture a fly, will not scruple as he grows older to LLL aa aca cree ST PE EE eT TES te 342 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL, . torture larger things, and not to regard the feel- ings of his fellow-man. Whereas, if the child have instilled by its parents, feeling and consider- ation even for the meanest part of creation, it is not too much to expect that, as he grows up, he will be merciful and cumpassionate to his fellow. What sweet, what noble, what human- ising sentiments have we here! A moral lesson is presented in some half-dozen lines, that should occupy our whole hfe in working out. Is it not so? THE LADY’S ALMANAC FOR 1854. There are this year, as usual, hosts of competitors for public favor in the form of almanacs. Among them, the one before us is entitled to honorable mention. It is nicely illustrated, full of varied information, and has some amiable Papers descriptive of the Months. We subjoin a very fair specimen of the month of— J ANUARY. January is the year in its infancy—huddled up and cradled in the earth for fear of the cold—be- neath its coverlet of snow, like an infant, it passes the greater part of its life in sleep, and never once opens its eyes during the long dark nights that overshadow it. Sometimes the robin, leaving its footprints in the snow, will perch over the head of the new-born year, and with heaving red breast, sing to it for hours. Sometimes it may be seen holding a snowdrop in its little hand, which has been sent by some invisible messenger from the land of flowers, and on which, during the few brief intervals of sunshine, it will stare with its large round eyes in wonderment. The winds, that pipe aloud around its couch, shake the -hid- den buds, and they feel a stir of life beneath their brown sheaths, and know that the time is at hand when they will thrust forth their little green heads to look out upon the lengthening days, freed from their prison-house.e The golden-crested wren oftimes comes to peep at the young year while it sleeps; and the wagtail, as he marches round the unfrozen spring-head to see if he can discover an insect on the move, wonders when it will shake off its covering of snow and be strong enough to run races with the restless lambs. The titmouse pulls out the straw from under its head, as if to break its slumber. Though the trees are naked, the ramificatious of the branches are very beautiful, and no needle- work that ladies’ fingers ever wrought displays such a diversity of patterns as may be traced im the projecting boughs and interlacing twigs, now seen in Nature’s workmanship. Crochet and knitting, netting and embroidery, chain and loop-scroll, and star and diamond are, when you look up, seen woven upon a ground of sky, that changes every few minutes in a clear winter day, with the changing clouds. You see the great embroidery- frames of Nature, which m summer she sprigs over with leaves, and decorates with flowers ; the bare warp on which she works is visible, and it is only at this season of the year that it may be seen. Sometimes long flakes of frost-work hang from the branches like veils, and through them may be dis- cerned the green and crimson of the holly, looking like hard round compressed rosebuds preserved in ice. The beauty of mosses are also more dis- cernible now than at any other season of the year; and strike the eye more forcibly, through the absence of foliage and flowers—coming upon you unaware like a rustic beauty at some sudden turn- ing of a sweet green lane, who would scarcely have attracted a passing look in the streets of a crowded city. In the classical cup-moss we trace the form of vase and urn, and all those elegant shapes which early Grecian art has rendered so famous; and all the more beautiful do these fairy chalices look, silvered over with frost-work. Ladies will find many objects worthy of ad- miration during a walk in January ; and nothing can be more healthy than moderate exercise on a clear, bright, frosty day, in this month. It circu- lates the blood, and causes the roses again to bloom on the cheeks that have paled and faded through long and close confinement in warm rooms. Look over the same landscape, which in Summer was hung with leaves, diapered with flowers, and carpeted with green, when it is covered with snow—and you will scarcely know it again: so great a change has taken place! And this, perhaps, is the work of a single night. You arise in the morning, and look out upon a white world—upon a country that seems to have been cut out of solid marble. EHyerything has undergone a change; not a single thing wears the old familiar look to which the eye was so accustomed. The trees are loaded with snow, and the cottage roofs covered with it; and, in the distance, you cannot distinguish hay and corn stacks from the farm-houses under that vast mantle of monotonous white. That which was before the brown winding road, seems now united with the outspreading fields; and the hedge-rows which divided them look like piles of drifted snow. Those pleasant field-paths, along which so many wild flowers grew, are obliterated.; not a trace remains of those fanciful curvings which led you on from stile to stile, and the climbing of which caused so much laughter; for they also are half- buried in the snow. You look over the wild white landscape, and feel thankful that it is so silent ; that the birds, whose sweet voices enliven it in Spring and Summer, are far away in sunnier climes, instead of remaining here to perish in the knee-deep snow. On the frosted window-pane, an imaginative mind may trace wild landscapes—mountains above and vallies below, and little cottages which the feathered snow-flakes seem to have thatched. And where it melts, there seem to be black open- ings through solitary forests; dens where the wolves shelter, and coverts where the fallow-deer arbour, and whose antlers no pencil ever excelled, as they seem limned in the frost-work. Great feathery pines. come down, leaning every way from the snowy heights; while below there are chasms spanned by the fallen and snow-covered trunks of trees. A NARRATIVE OF PRACTICAL EXPERIMENTS wiTH THE “ DowsinG Forn,”’ &c. By F. Purppen. Hardwicke. No doubt most of our readers are aware of the great value attached by certain people —_- —_——— to the Haze, which is said to possess certain powers of indicating precisely where water may be obtained by digging. It also possesses the faculty of indicating where precious metals lie buried in the earth’s bosom. What a ‘great fact’’ for people going to the gold regions! This little book is very fairly put to- gether, and deserves the attention of the curious. Knowing, as we do, much of the inherent powers of the hazel (having seen it tested on people in a state of mesmeric sleep), we think the experiments herein related are worthy of credence. It would not be fair to copy largely from a brochure like this. We therefore append one or two recorded facts only, as a sample of the whole :— EXPERIMENTS WITH THE ‘‘ DOWSING FORK.” The following took place on the premises of Arthur Phippen, Esq., the well-known surgeon, who resides at Wedmore, near Wells, in Somer- setshire. On Tuesday the 10th of September, in the present year, a person named Charles Adams was brought from Rowberrow, near Shipham, to ““ Dowse,” for water. Adams is forty-three years of age, and has practised Dowsing since he was thirteen; in the course of which time he has been accessory to the sinking of 100 wells. ‘To pre- pare for his experiment, he went to a hedge, ac- companied by our correspondent, and cut from it a forked white thorn twig of this year’s growth, about eighteen inches long in each stem. He then entered the garden, and walked about, with his apparatus projected in the usual way, to search for water. He had walked but a few paces over the soil, when the fork was repelled, and the position of the spring discovered. This spring he traced west and east to a considerable distance, until he arrived aver a covered well, of the existence of which he was totally ignorant; and there the instrument became so much agitated, that it re- quired a strong pressure to keep it down. All the spectators, including a reverend divine and our correspondent, successively held one of the branches or stems, and every one was convinced, by the resistance made to his effort, that the ceremony was no delusiorl. The next experiment was made in the kitchen, the floor of which is covered with stone, and under which there are no springs. In the absence of Adams, three hats were placed, crown upwards, on the floor at equal distances; and under the centre hat were placed three silver spoons. Adams was then called on to exhibit. To the two empty hats the ‘‘ Dowsing Fork”? was immoveable ; but when held over the centre hat, which covered the spoons, it was driven back towards the breast of the operator, just as when the presence of water was indicated. There was still another experiment on the same occasion. The three hats were placed again on the floor ; the first covering a small diamond pin, the second three silver spoons, and the third a gold watch, chain, and seals. ‘The first and second hats produced a powerful effect on the ““ Dowsing Fork,” that which covered the diamond KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 343 pin being by far the more powerful, while that which covered the watch, chain, and seals was but slight, being hardly perceptible to the dif- ferent witnesses of the exhibition. Adams, who is a very sober, industrious man, can produce testi- monials of his ability and success in the extraor- dinary process, from many persons of the highest respectability in the county of Somerset. Who, after this, would go abroad to seek their fortune without a “ Dowsing Fork?” FERGUSON’S ILLUSTRATED SERIES OF RARE AND PRIZE POULTRY, INCLUDING ALL CLASSES OF Domestic Fowu. Parts 3 and 4. These practical Essays on Poultry are issued at 22, Southampton Street, Strand. Kach part contains two colored engravings ; and letter-press accompanies the illustrations. Mr. Ferguson is alive to this age for cheapness, and has wisely published his essays at a low price. One shilling monthly places them within the reach of all classes. We greatly admire the plain-speaking that prevails throughout the work. Nothing is left vague or undefined ; and all the instruc- tions are copious and useful. To prove what we say, let us give—all we have room for at present—part of the author’s sensible advice, about THE MANAGEMENT OF YOUNG CHICKENS. When first excluded from the shell, chickens form no exception to the general rule of infantine impotency; and through extreme weakness and inability, are incapable of sustaining their heads in any direct attitude. They are, too, covered with a moisture that causes their “down” to resemble hair, which adheres closely to the skin. Their appearance is, however, somewhat strikingly different after having snuggled under the parent bird, and snoozed away a few hours’ of repose beneath her protecting wings. Care should be taken to avoid needlessly handling them, seeing that equally injurious con- sequences are likely to result from misapplied attention to imagined requisites, as are occasioned by actual neglect. The removal of that small horny substance from the extremity of the beak, by many practised to the present day, is perfectly useless, and in many cases injurious ;—useless, on the ground of the same falling without applied means, from natural causes; and injurious, from a frequency of severe pressure occurring whilst engaged in the act. Likewise the ancient custom, but modernised by practice (1 allude to the act of peppercorn or beer-sop forcing), is very absurd ; no chick requires such ill-usage ; and, excepting in very solitary cases, no nestling needs such stimu- lants so soon after his exclusion from captivity. Warmth certainly forms his natural and whole- some feast for the first twenty hours; but not that warmth arising from “ force balls ;” simply the animal heat from the body-pressure of the hen. Supposing a brood of chicks to be irregular in their exclusion, arising either from the eggs having been placed under the hen, for the purposes of incubation, at irregular periods for — SS SSS 344 the fact of some being considerably staler than others, it is requisite for the safety of the entire brood to remove them as soon as hatched ; other- wise, when, for the purposes of supplying nature’s requirements, the hen moves off to feed, a little youngster may follow her. Should the nest be elevated, he may perhaps venture after the pareut bird and make his descent; but return he cannot. He is necessarily either left to die, or the entire brood to perish. Removal, therefore, in such a case is requisite; but this should be done with great care. A small basket is very handy for this purpose; and after having been wrapped in flannel and placed therein, a position before the fire until the remainder of his brethren are in a sufficiently advanced state to receive him, is all that is necessary or desirable—(at the same time no opportunity must be afforded for allowing his enemy, the cat, to obtain possession of his person). In most cases, I much disapprove of people meddling with chicks; considering it far wiser, and much more in conformity with the regulations of nature, to allow the hen the lawful privilege of bringing off her brood as she considers best. Nevertheless, a prudent glance from time to time, to see all is right, is not amiss. The nest should be as near the ground as possible, to allow them to take flight without descent. Another practice of common occurrence, and which proves both irritating and annoying to the hens, is the frequent changing and removal of their chicks for others not their own, whose ap- pearances do not always engage their fancies. The hen is usually sufficiently acquainted with the characteristics of her progeny to judge and recognise her own from those of others; espe- cially as their visible properties become developed. She observes their size and progress. Where there are, however, many others of the same age and color as one or two of her offspring, she is generally deceived. Were a hen privileged to lay and bring up her own, there is very little doubt she would become still more acute; and if matched with a bird of the same class and feather, her chicks would be more of one color; and no other would she allow in her broods to pass unnoticed, or without an effort at destruction. A few years ago, a friend possessed a black game hen (irish black), whose incubating powers were unequalled in the annals of bis poultry journal. Her instinct, too, was keen; and too acute to allow a chick of any other tint to escape her notice. Her sentence of destruction was invari- ably carried into execution upon every unfor- tunate specimen excluded, even in her own nest, whose appearance did not resemble hers in cast and color. Upon one occasion, a few blood-wing pile eggs (game), of choice quality and strain, were incau- tiously deposited in her nest to make up the number of thirteen; she at once officiated as incubator with her accustomed good-humor ; and remained a close and constant sitter at her post until the twenty-first day elapsed She then again allowed her cruelty to exceed her modera- tion; and of the eight chickens which, by the appearance of the shells, were known to have existed, not one remained alive. Stranger still to say, two in her anger were devoured (with the KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. exception of the head and legs). It need scarcely be mentioned that this vixen hen was not again permitted to indulge her passions in the slaughter of her species; but was placed at the disposal of the cook without delay. If a full and goodly brood be desired at any one time, the best method of successfully accomplish- ing this is to engage the services of two mature hens the same day ; if one proves unfortunate, or some portion of the eggs unproductive, the pro- duce of the two may be united; and the hen, thus robbed of her youngsters, again allowed a second charge of eggs (which, by-the-bye, should be rather less in number than at her previous sitting). The success resulting from this method is most assuredly greater, and the means employed more practical, than endeavoring to make up the deficiency of a brood by forcing upon a hen chicks whose size denotes a week or two of older growth, whose appearance likewise arouses the lhen’s attention ; and their wild cries to gain her notice are far from desirable. Whereas, the removal of the newly-hatched chicks to the desired spot, if effected after dark, leaves neither traces of annoy- ance to the privileged hen, who cannot have too many chicks to please her, nor to the robbed one; asitting of eggs, if given in exchange, tran- quillises her mind and satisfies her fully. If but a day or two have elapsed since their departure from the nest, and if during this time they have been confined to their mother’s tender care, her color, size, and general appearance, her tone of voice and actions, are so well known, that although, from the multiplicity of others of the same age and color, she be unable to distinguish hers, they are kept distinct by the instinctive knowledge the little youngsters themselves pos- sess. Sometimes the solicitous mother, in her anxiety to defend her offspring from molestation, or the maltreatment of an enemy, or even from one of her own species, will rush vigorously forward, little heeding the mischief resulting from her own deeds in the trampling and scatter- ing of those so dear to her. We can, most of us, verify the truth of this. It is a subject we propose to allude to further hereafter. Meantime, we recom- mend that the composition of this work should be looked to im future numbers. The sentences are far too long, and ill constructed. Some kind literary friend should revise the MS. before going to press. A New PLAN OF PUBLISHING. By ROBERT HARDWICKE. The author of this work resides at 38, Carey Street. We record this pro bono. Hitherto all authors unknown to fame have published,—and been “fleeced,” of course. Now we are told they may publish, and preserve their “wool.’’ This is a fact which must shake Paternoster Row from one end to the other. What! an author publish, and not be brought in “a debtor !”’ Monstrous idea ! We are not going to unravel the thread of this apparent and really interesting mystery. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 345 All who are concerned in the matter are referred to the “ gentle shepherd”’ above. The pamphlet, be it remarked, is gratui- tous,—and “ what is more free thana gift?” A GuIDE To PHoToGrRAPHy. By W. H. THORNTHWAITE. 12mo. Horne, Thornth- waite, and Wood. This is a very excellent practical guide to the study of Photography, now so popular. It is very copiously and neatly illustrated throughout ; and it is so clearly arranged, that any person can understand it. Directions are of course given for obtain- ing views, portraits, &c. These are both simple and concise. There is also a very interesting explanation of the action of light on prepared surfaces of paper, glass, and metal; and all the recent improvements are added, in the Calotype, Daguerreotype, Col- lodion, Albumen, and Waxed Paper pro- cesses. Not the least interesting portion of this pretty book is that devoted to the subject of stereoscopic pictures. Its cost, we should add, is a bagatelle; and its introduction among schools and families will be general. Tue Natura History or! SELBORNE. By Gitpert Waite. Nathaniel Cooke. What ! another edition of Gilbert White's “Selborne ?” Yes; and a most superb edi- tion, too (within and without)—eclipsing even those beautiful editions (legion !) already extant ; and issued at a price that will enable every boy and girl in England to procure it. Halt-a-crown only! Half-a-guinea would be little for it. The exquisite illustrations are alone worth more than that sum. Nobody now dares own that he has not read “‘ White's Selborne !” We cannot, to day, as our columns are already overburdened, attempt to do justice to this book. But we will not lay it aside, even pro tem., without giving part of the preface, written by the Kditor (Sir William Jardine):— There is perhaps no work of the same class that has gone through more editions than White’s “Selborne.” It originally appeared in 1789, four years before the author’s death, in the then fashionable quarto size ; an octavo edition, in two volumes, was published under the charge of Dr. Aitkin in 1802, to which various observations were added from White’s journals; and a second quarto edition was again published in 1813, with notes by the Rev. John Mitford, several of which are copied into the present volume; after these, the edition projected and published by Constable in his “Miscellany” was the first to render the work better known and more popularly desired. When the disarrangement of Mr. Constable’s affairs took place, and the “ Miscellany” had passed into other hands, this edition assumed several forms, and was illustrated by woodcuts, | in June, 1743. some of them engraved for it, while some were inserted that had previously been used in other works on natural history. The demand for the work, however, still continued so great, as to in- duce Mr. Van Voorst, and others, to speculate upon fresh reprints, some ofthem very beautifully illustrated ; and the Rey. L. Jenyns, Mr. Bennet, and Mr. Jesse have all contributed their share to the explanation of White’s letters, and have been assisted by some of the first men of the day, in regard to such subjects as did not so imme- diately form a portion of their own studies; and we owe to Messrs. Bell and Owen, Yarrel and Herbert, many useful and instructive notes. The call now for another edition of ‘The Natural History of Selborne,” after so much has been illustrated and written about it, shows the con- tinued estimation in which the work is held, and the confidence of the publishers in its value. What is the cause of this run after the corres- pondence of a country clergyman? Just that it is the simple recording of valuable facts as they were really seen or learned, without embellish- ment, except as received from truth, and without allowing the imagination to ramble and assume conclusions the exactness of which it had not proved. He at the same time kept steadily in view the moral obligations upon himself as a man and a minister, to benefit his fellow-creatures by impressing upon them the beneficence of the Creator, as exemplified in His works ; and the cno- tentment and cheerfulness of spirit which their study, under proper restrictions, imparts to the mind. And of this man we have handed down scarcely any biographical recollections, except what can be gathered from a short sketch by his brother, or that may be interspersed ainong his letters; and these are very few, as he was not given to write of himself or his private affairs. Gilbert White, at one time the recluse and almost obscure vicar of Selborne, had no biographer to record all the little outs and ins of his quiet career; he was not thought of until his letters pointed him out as a man of observation ; and it is only since they have been edited and re-edited, that every source has been ransacked, with the hope of finding some memoranda of the worthy vicar and naturalist. The sketch which his brother John appended to the octavo edition of his works in 1802, is the only memorial of his life; and as it is authentic, and very short, itis best to print it as it was ori- ginally published. The same modest and retired habits never tempted him, so far as is known, to sit for any likeness; and no portrait or profile remains to recall the features of one whose writ- ings have been so much and so widely read. “Gilbert White was the eldest son of John White of Selborne, Esq., and of Anne, the daughter of Thomas Holt, rector of Streatham, in-Surrey. He was born at Selborne, on July 18th, 1720; and received his school education at Basingstoke, under the Rev. Thomas Warton, vicar of that place, and father of those two dis- tinguished literary characters, Dr. Joseph War- ton, master of Winchester School; and Mr. Tho- mas Warton, poetry-professor at Oxford. He was admitted at Oriel College, Oxford, in December, 1739; and took his degree of Bachelor of Arts In March, 1744, he was elected 346 Fellow of his College. He became Master of Arts in October, 1746, and was admitted as one of the senior Proctors of the University in April, 1752. Being of an unambitious temper, and strongly attached to the charms of rural scenery, he early fixed his residence in his native village, where he spent the greater part of his life in literary occupations, and especially in the study of nature. This he followed with a patient assi- duity, and a mind ever open to the lessons of piety and benevolence, which such a study is so well calculated to afford. Though several occa- sions offered of settling upon a college living, he could never persuade himself to quit the beloved spot, which was indeed a peculiarly happy situa- tion for an observer. He was much esteemed by a select society of intelligent and worthy friends, to whom he paid occasional visits. Thus his days passed tranquil and serene, with scarcely any other vicissitudes than those of the seasons, till they closed at a mature age, on June 26th, 1793.” And thus he was born, lived, and died in his native parish and village, respected by those around him; contented in his own mind, and endeavoring to fulfil his various duties as a clergyman and member of society. A grave: stone, as unobtrusive as his life, marks upon the turf of the churchyard the place of his interment. GLENNY’s GARDEN ALMANAC FoR 1854. Cox, King Street. The name of GEORGE GLENNY and a flower-garden are synonymous. Mr. Glenny is a practical man, and goes to the root of his subject. Hence the value of his obser- vations. Let us illustrate what we say by append- ing his admirable HINTS FOR LADY GARDENERS. Ladies, who are fond of plants and flowers, must take a few hints and treasure them in the memory, for they know they every now and then find a plant sickly, and often dead. The causes are various. Too much water keeps the roots always cold ; colder than the atmosphere, and the plant gets chilled. Also, where saucers are used, and the water is allowed to remain in the bottom, no air can get to the roots, and they perish with rot. Too little water only goes part of the way down the ball of earth, and all below it continues dry, and perishes for want of moisture. The uatural consequence is, that, as the plant only has the support of the upper fibres, it becomes starved, and, after a vain struggle, dies. Now it is necessary to moisten the whole ball of earth alike, whenever water is given. 'There- fore, when you apply it, see that it runs through the bottom into the saucer, and pour it from that (as often as any comes through), till it is quite dry, and do not water again till the soil is nearly dry again. But itis possible to water until it runs through at the bottom ; and yet not moisten the earth. When the soil dries, it shrinks and leaves the side of the pot, thus making a vacancy. Ap- ply the water, without pressing down the earth, to it close to the side, and it will run through fast without sinking into the soil at all. Therefore, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. before watering, always press the earth close to the side of the pot (if it be not so already) all the way round; in order that the water, when ap- plied, may only escape by going through the entire soil. The difference between winter and summer— cold weather and hot—dictates no difference in the quantity of water to give at each watering ; but, in winter time, it is possible that water- ing once in two or three weeks may be often enough, while in summer time, once a day may be hardly sufficient. There is but one way to water things properly, and that is, to be guided by the state of the soil. It may be dry on the top before it wants water; but it ought not to be dry half-an-inch below. And it would be well to look over the plants daily in summer, though they will not require so frequent an inspection in winter. Another point is worth attention; water should be given of the same temperature as the atmos- phere in which the plants are growing. - In sum- mer time, it is highly improper to use well- water —it is many degrees colder than the atmosphere ; and if there be none but well-water, let it stand in the open air a day,—or rather keep a tub, or open pond, always supplied, to water from. Air is essential to plants, and no opportunity of giving them all you can, on all favorable days, should be omitted. In winter time, when they are in the house, the windows should be opened as much as possible, when the weather is short of frost. Light, too, is necessary; and when plants have only a front light, they should be con- stantly turned, otherwise they will grow one-sided. This especially applies to plants m the windows of dwelling-houses. We are too apt to put the best side to the light, andso make the opposite still worse. The rule for shifting plants from one sized pot to another, should be the roots reaching the side, beginning to cross each other, and form a surface of fibres next the pot. Now and then the ball of earth should be turned out and examined. By turning the plant downwards, and tapping the edge of the pot on any steady substance, the ball will come out. Therefore, one of the hands should cover as much of the surface as possible. Putting the fingers on each side of the stem, the ball then comes into the hand without difficulty or force. Heavy pots cannot be managed by ladies; but a man-servant can get the ball of earth out in a lady’s presence, and replace it, or put it in alarger one. Ifit be a geranium, it may be sunk lower in the new pot; butif a heath, or any other hard-wocded plant, it must not be potted a shade lower. The soil (which is frequently bad and fatal to plants in the hands of private people,) should be light andrich. The use of common garden mould, or any that first comes to hand, has caused thou- sands of deaths. Generally it is sour and clammy, and especially when taken from London gardens. Where there are but a few plants, it is better to buy two or three barrows’ full at a nursery, ready for use; but if there be many, get half a load of loam, a quarter of a load of peat turf, a quarter of a load of well decomposed dung (from an old melon or cucumber bed). Let alaboring-man mix them together; chopping the peat turf to make it go through a coarse cinder-sieve. When thoroughly mixed, keep it together for use. There 4 Ls i , is not a plant but will grow in this compost; although, if we were growing heaths and hard- wooded plants, we should mix it with half its bulk more of peat sifted, for the plants will grow still better. Pruning of plants (as some call the regulation of the shoots) should be confined to the stopping, or taking the ends off, of shoots inclined to grow too long for the rest of the plant, or to push out on one side. In small plants, the pinching off the ends of shoots causes other shoots to come, and makes the plants bushy. In fact, the plant can be grown any shape or form by encouraging growth where you want it, and cutting or pinch- ing back the shoots where you wish to get rid of it. The time to prune a plant into a good shape is, directly it has done blooming and before it begins its new growth, because the new growth is where the bloom for the next year comes, in epacrises, camellias, acacias, hoveas, chorozemas, and many other plants. Geraniums are exceptions to general rules, for they are always growing, and those who wish to get them bushy must keep on pinching the ends off the shoots as soon as they are two inches long, until Christmas time, and some may be continued till March. They may then be allowed to go up to bloom, when there will be a truss or bunch at the end of each shoot. These general hints will save the life of many a favorite plant. The book is so full of useful instruction, that we shall no doubt often have to recur to it. Meantime, we subjoin the needful opera- tions for the season :— GENERAL REMARKS—JANUARY. Hledges.—Cut, trim, and mend; box edgings make ; plant trees, shrubs, make gravel walks. Draining —Do this in the winter months. THE FLOWER GARDEN,—JANUARY. Bulbs.—Lose no time in planting; they ought to be in. Tulips —Protect carefully from frost and wind. Auriculas——Cleanse from dead leaves; give air, and seldom water; they must not be kept damp. Carnations and Picotees in Pots.—Keep dry and give air. Pinks and Heartsease in Beds.—Cover with litter; in frames, give air, and water seldom: dampness is death. Hyacinths in Beds.—Cover with mats or litter. ‘ Ranunculuses and Anemones.—Protect from rost. ee for Show Ranunculuses.—Throw out the soil. Plants under Glass.—Protect from frost, and seldom water. Manure.—Collect neats’ dung, turves to rot, sand, clean loam, peat, horse and sheep droppings, leaves to rot, &c. Pots of Cuttings and Pans of Seedlings.— Protect. * > Dahtias.—Examine; pot any that are in dan- er. Plant all kinds of ornamental shrubs, and hardy flowers. , Many flowers and plants may be forced by placing them first in a green-house, and from that KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 347 into a slight hot-bed, or into the stove, if there be one; the changes must not be sudden. THE KITCHEN GARDEN. JANUARY. Peas.—Sow early peas in rows a yard apart. Cabbage.— Dig up vacant spaces and plant out cabbage. Beans.—Autumn-sown beans for planting out, protect. r ssa may be formed in a common hot- ed. Cauliflower Plants—Protect from frost and Wet; give air. Lettuces and Salads must be kept compara- tively dry. Winter Crops.—Hoe between the rows; earth up the stems. Celery—LHarth up, and in hard frosts protect with litter. Small Salads, Radishes, &e.—Sow in hot-beds, or under glass. Cucumbers and Melons may be begun now, if not before. Rhubarb or Scakale——Force, with hot stable ‘dung. Fennel, Mint, &Gc—Pot up and put into mo- derate heat. THE FRUIT GARDEN—JANUARY. Prune and nail; plant trees; destroy insects. Boys AND THEIR RULERS; OR, WHAT WE po aT ScHooLt. Nathaniel Cooke. All of us know something of “ Hic, hec, hoc.” Let us, inquire further about it, by all means ; for it is dear to each one of our active memories. Genitive hujus, too, comes in ‘nicely ’ in the detail; and reminds us of scenes o’er which we love to ruminate. This is a delightful Christmas book ; equally interesting to boys and masters. It is full of fun—natural, not forced; and the illustra- tive scenes and sketches of the boys,—their doings and their misdoings, draw forth peals of laughter. They are capital. It would be cruel in us to say more about this book. It ought to find an immediate place on the family table. FLOWERS OF THE GARDEN OF KNOWLEDGE, —PrRINCE ARTHUR’S ALPHABET. Cooke. This is the third book we are called upon to notice to-day, from the establishment of Mr. Nathaniel Cooke. We would say a word or two here about the philanthropy of that gentleman. It hardly needs be re- marked, that Mr. Cooke is,-—or was, joint- proprietor with Mr. Ingram in that grand national periodical, the Illustrated London News. He has amassed a fortune therefrom. Long may he live to enjoy it! But how does he spend that fortune? It deserves to be chronicled. He is producing, week after week, books of intense interest to the million ; and issuing them in a style and at a cost perfectly incomprehensible. 348 Profit to himself—if any, must be very remote; whilst the immediate benefit derivable from his exertions by the reading public is immense. If Mr. Cooke be not a philan- thropist, in the true meaning of the word, then do we err exceedingly in judgment. ‘The Paternoster-Row publishers cannot—do not attempt to—compete with him. He leaves them far, very far, behind. They grumble, of course. What of that ? Of the book before us, we need say little. “There is no royal road to learning,” we admit; but an incitement to learning like this,—rendered so enchanting to the eye by its numerous well-executed illustrations, and so interesting to the mind by its pleasing style of composition—wins a child’s heart at once. Books got out in this style (and at a mere nominal expense), go far towards “ forming”’ the mind even of an infant. The eye is at once captivated by copies of birds, animals, insects, &c., and the attention thus arrested, progresses healthily. We repeat it,—this Alphabet is a nursery gem; and all parents should procure it for their children’s library. Mr. Cooke has “ oceans” more of these labors of love in hand. We shall glory in introducing them, one by one, as they see the light. THE ILLUSTRATED LONDON ALMANAC, for 1854. Published at 198, Strand. This Almanac fully sustains its high character of former years. Indeed, the wood- engravings of the Months are even better than ever. The information is very varied ; and the getting-up every way worthy of the establishment whence it is issued. The astronomical department, in particular, de- serves mention. Ii is full of interest. MS WIL, DAVIDSON’s MusIcAL TREASURY. Peter’s Hill, Doctors’ Commons. We have received from Mr. Davidson such a multitude of songs, waltzes, quadrilles, ballads, and polkas, that to enumerate them would be impossible. A happy idea was it, to christen this issue a “treasury.” Let us add the word “inex- haustible” to it, and some notion may be formed of its value and extent. And what is the cost of each of these really beautiful, popular, and admirably-composed pieces of music? In most cases, threepence; in a few cases, sixpence; and in rare cases, one shilling. Really, society owes Mr. Davidson a weight of gratitude that they will not find it easy to repay. Already are these polkas, quadrilles, &c., in the hands of our fair friends, who are practising them early and late—to be ready ! ——$—— KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. for Christmas. Loud, even now, are they in their songs of mirth; and they promise us ‘“such a treat!” What with the Edinburgh Quadrille, the Dublin Quadrille, and the Zurich Waltz; that sweet ballad, “The Voice and the Flower,” together with others too numerous to name,—this number of Our JOURNAL promises to be “ musical” indeed ! Well; let us hope that there will be no ‘discordant notes” amongst us,—then will three hearty cheers be raised for “‘ Davidson’s Musical Treasury ! ’’ Hain! Prince Aubert. W. Sprague, 7, Finsbury Pavement. This is an ode in honor of Her Majesty the Queen, H.R.H. Prince Albert, and the Royal Family, written and arranged by James Turner. It isa most loyal effusion. The words are full of feeling, and the music is admirably adapted to give them the most powerful effect. This ode, well played and efficiently sung, will be listened to with great delight. SOON I SHALL HEAR MY MOTHER’S VOICE. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. Soon I shall hear my mother’s voice! Yes,—she will come to me, And bid my weary heart rejoice, With its soft melody ! My lips are pale to-day, I know, My voice, perhaps, is weak— Consumption, with its hectic glow, Is mantled on my cheek. But tell her not the pain I feel, Let not our fears be known ; And when I meet her I’ll conceal The grief I dare not own. Tl check the anguish of my heart, The tear that dims mine eye ; The sigh that tells her we must pait,— That one so loved must die ! Tl talk to her of those we love, Perchance ’twill soothe my pain ; I'll calmly lead her thoughts above ; Yes, and I’ll smile again! And when she hears, with anguish w.ld, No power on earth can save ; Death will not spare her fairest child,— Her darling, from the grave, I'll tell her of a happy land, Where tears for ever cease ; Of Saints that form a holy band, And all is joy and peace. [ll lead her to a little spot, Beneath the tall yew tree, A home the proud man envieth not,— There my last rest shall be. And when this weary scene is o’er, Of sorrow, grief, and pain ; We'll meet upon a happier shore, AND NEVER PART AGAIN! a EE, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. A SONG TO THE SEASON. BY BARRY CORNWALL, Tf life be ever pleasant, "Tis in merry hours like this ; When the wine is old and sound, And the laugh is running round; When each maiden mouth discloses Buds of pearl in beds of roses— Roses that we fain would kiss. If life be ever gloomy, "Tis as when we, long ago, Saw the friend we loved so well Swiftly borne to debtor’s cell; And not one of us could lend him Gold or silver or befriend him; Scarce had time to soothe lis woe. Ah! Life has many changes, Sunny seasons, winter rains ; So let’s pluck the summer flower, Bravely front the frowning hour,— Cherish allwho'd fain befriend us, Whether good or ill attend us, Long as life remains ! ’ WEDNESDAY-EVENING CONCERTS. WE are glad to find that public taste inclines kindly towards these entertainments. The concert given on Dec. 7th was very numerously attended, and went off with con- siderable eclat. 'The audience were evidently “fond” of music. The excellence of the programme satisfac- torily accounted for the attraction. It was another “ Night with Mendelssohn.” The two great features of the former selection— the pianoforte concerto, No. 1, and the sym- phony in A major—were retained; the over- ture and the vocal music were changed. The whole was admirably performed, and enthu- siastically received. The selection of vocal music was parti- cularly interesting. Two of the “Six Songs, Op. 57” —“ Of all the pretty darlings in the world,’ and “ What means this strong emo- tion ?”—-were respectively sung, and well sung, by our old friend Miss Poole, and Miss Fanny Ternan. ‘The graceful ballad called “The Garland” was given, with much taste, by Mr. Perren. The Savoy ballad, “ With my mandoline ”’—so quaint and full of cha- racter—was entrusted to Miss Poole. We hardly need say she did it ample justice. Nor must we omit to speak of the beautiful duet, as beautifully sung by the lovely Josx- PHINE BrouGHAM and her equally lovely sister ELISABETH. We mean the duet, “I would that my love could silently flow.’ It was listened to with delight, and received with rapturous applause. It well deserved it. These young ladies have such a pure taste, and sing so very sweetly together, that it is really a treat to hear them warble. We are — 349 —_——————— such advocates for natural simplicity that we must be excused if we speak pointedly when we have occasion to do so—alas, how seldom! The second part, which began with the overture to Semiramide, and ended with a march from La Donna del Lago, also in- cluded the Polacca from Spohr’s opera of Faust, which was played with great spirit by the band. Among a multitude of minor things, we can only mention that Madame Amedei (the new contralto with the beautiful voice) confirmed her previous success, by her really clever singing in the grand recita- tive and aria of Arsace, “ Eccomi alfine” (Semiramide) ; that Miss Thirlwall made a further advance in public opimion by her execution of Rode’s air; that Mr. Chipp (of Her Majesty’s private band), produced a legitimate effect in a fantasia on the violon- cello, composed and executed by himself; and that a new and clever song, entitled “The Hound and the Horn,” by Mr. Lovell Phillips (a composition of decided merit), was sung by Mr. Weiss and most favorably received. The hall, as we have before said, was crowded ; and the concert went off with un- flagging spirit, WHAT DO WE LIVE FOR? THERE is nothing created but what is destined ‘to perform some part in the great work of creation. No man nor woman was ever born to do nothing. No flower that blooms, nor star that decks the Heavens, was simply made to be of no utility, or to hide away itself from the face of Nature, but rather destined to perform some particular work. The great end of life is “happiness ;”’ for all nature converges to this point—happiness based upon the moral and intellectual powers of men ; not the mere selfish pleasure of life. Life hath something more for its object than the mere heaping together of gold. We live; but itshould be to promote the well-being of our fellow-man, to enrich his mind with knowledge, to lead his wavering footsteps to the shrine of wisdom, and there to fraternise with his fellow-men in searching after the elixir of life—true happiness. We live ; but it is not for selfishness. It isnot to persecute and to wrong, but to shield and to protect. It is not to spread misery and to foster vice ; but to cherish virtue, and to stem the im- petuous torrent of human degradation. It is not for sowing the seeds of discord, and nourishing the germs of chicanery; but for unity of action, and succoring honesty and truth. ‘Thus alone can we arrive at perfection. Teach every man that he has a great duty to perform, and life has some charm for him. It is no longer the wearisome, dull, and monotonous thing that Mawworms would make us believe it is. No! a brighter world opens before him, replete with loveliness. Oh, how great a pleasure it is to live only for the purpose of doing good to man- kind! To love,—and be loved ! 300 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. THE EXPANSIVE HEART. Tue HEART—the heart! oh! let it be A true and bounteous thing; As kindly warm, as nobly free As eagle’s nestling wing. Oh! keep it not like miser’s gold, Shut in from all beside; But let its precious stores unfold, In mercy far and wide. The heart—the heart that’s truly blest Is never all its own; No ray of glory lights the breast That beats for self alone. The heart—the heart! oh! let it spare A sigh for others’ pain; The breath that soothes a brother’s care Is never spent in vain. And though it throb at gentlest touch, Or sorrow’s faintest call, ’T were better it should ache too much, Than never ache at all. , The heart—the heart that’s truly blest Is never all its own; No ray of glory lights the breast That beats for self alone. MISTAKEN CHARITY. ENCOURAGEMENT TO BEGGARS. THE WORLD IS FULL of strange characters. Some think,—some pretend to think; and others never think at all. They interpret everything they see literally ; and seem to imagine “allis for the best.” ‘These curious, silly people, do not injure themselves only ; it is society that suffers from their thought- less acts. Elsewhere (see article entitled ‘ Little Things”), we have hinted at certain sturdy beggars,—their wives, and children,—who go about soliciting alms to the perfect terror of respectable housekeepers. Since our re- marks have been in type, one of our con- temporaries (The Times), has taken notice of the same subject; and shown the im- propriety, as well as folly, of relieving mendicants. So pertinent are the observa- tions of the writer, that we shall embody in our columns some of the evils to which he justly directs attention. At ¢hzs season, they demand all the attention we can give them. Let us begin, by earnestly imploring all benevolent persons, of either sex (old or young), to take into their serious considera- tion the consequences of indiscriminate almsgiving to those pitiable objects who are to be met with at every turn in the streets of London. The adult portion of them are impostors almost to aman or woman. The case of the wretched, dwarfed children, who are turned adrift upon the pavement, stands upon a different foundation ; but let the hu- mane and charitable bear in mind that, in poimt of fact, the imdiscriminate almsgiver as the cornerstone of that nefarious system which results in the despatch of these little unfortunates on their daily quest. We do not say that with regard to them the fountains of charity should be dried up; but simply that the stream should run in a different channel from heretofore. See yonder tiny bundles of rags, with dirty feet protruded, covered with filth and chil- blains. These pale-faced little creatures— for they are in very truth human beings— heirs of immortality—have lain crouching here under the rails of St. Martin’s through the long hours of fog and frost. It gives asharp pinch to the heart of any man of ordinary humanity to pass them by, and leave so much real misery unassuaged. But mark the consequences of giving! It 2s just because alins are bestowed upon them, that these litle children are sent out day after day, and placed at their post as sentinels of misery. They derive no benefit from the little hoard of coppers which they may in the course of the day have collected. The money will be spent at night by their parents, or owners, in guzzling and gin. To be sure, a lucky quest may secure them immunity from stripes for that day only ; but to-morrow, they must resume their watch; and should the result be different, the heavy hand of brutality will be stretched out upon them as soon as they have sneaked back to the garret or cellar which is their home. When the abominable trade of child-ex- posure is starved out, there will be an end of the practice,—and not tillthen. The pence of the indiscriminately benevolent constitute the fund which maintains the system. The ladies and gentlemen who comfort themselves with the fag-end of the old sophism, that ‘it is better to be imposed on for once, than to harden one’s heart for ever,” are the real patrons of the dealers in beggar-children. The poor little things are sacrificed for the luxury of a sentiment ! Now, are we not justified in turning round upon these gentlemen with their plush phy- lacteries,-—for surely the Pharisee must have had a stripe of warmer material for winter wear—and in saying, ‘“ If your charity could carry you thus far, why not a little further ? Why not meditate a little on the conse- quences of your acts? If it should give you a little more trouble to do real good than evil under the semblance of good, surely this should be no consideration with people who are actuated by such noble sentiments.” The answer, no doubt, will be in the form of a question,—‘ What are we to do?” The nearest policeman and the nearest police- court will soon solve the difficulty. The lady or gentleman who would be at the pains of following out one of these dis- tressing cases, would render more service to KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. the objects of their compassion than by con- verting a fortune into pence, and sowing the pence broadeast into the furrows of in- iquity. If present help must be given, be not ashamed to conduct the little shivering creatures to the door of the nearest baker or pastrycook. Give them a penny roll, give them a bun; give them anything, so that you stand by yourselves and see it actually swallowed. The children will get well thrashed when they get back; but blows fall lighter upon a full, than upon an empty stomach. Banish all thought of furnishing them with an article of clothing ; before six hours are over, that would be merely converted by the proprietors of the children into hot gin- and- water and tobacco. We have taken first the case of the chil- dren; for they are entitled not only to our deepest pity and sympathy, but to our active assistance. It is quite otherwise with the adult and sturdy beggars of either sex. Lon- doners—and ye visitors to London, have no faith in those lean, sallow faces; in those seeming deformities; in those artistically- withered arms; in those naked feet; in that mendicant whine ; in those looks of theatrical agony. It is the vile and loathsome trade of many thousand persons within the limits of the metropolis, to practise these appeals upon the sympathy of the credulous. The “profession” is followed secundum artem. ‘The rogues are trained to it in their academies, as young persons are prepared for the stage. The shipwrecked sailor, who could not navigate Puddle Dock with suc- cess; the Houndsditch vagabond, who has walked all the way up from Carlisle in search of work; the soldier, ignorant of the mys- teries of the goose-step: the swarthy and turbaned Lazarus, who speaks the Hindustani language in such wise as to necessitate the hypothesis of constant communication be- tween Delhiand Kilkenny,—beware of them ! Then, there are others, of a gregarious nature. A disconsolate, lantern-jawed man, is presumed to be the head of a family “ in reduced circumstances ;” most commonly he parades his misery without any musical efforts. By his side, there walks a thin small, and disconsolate matron; as far ad- vanced in pregnancy as a pillow can make her! She wears an old black silk bonnet, which the most slovenly charwoman in Lon- don has rejected as unfit for further pur- poses of coquetry; and plays the flageolet or fiddle, or any unexpected instrument. Her apron is clean, to symbolise the past respectability of the family. A numerous flock has crowned the hopes of the parents. Seven, eight, or nine children attend them; independently of the babe obligato carried by the mother, and tortured occasionally into screams by ‘“‘secret arrangements.” 351 The identity between the sizes of three or four of the children would seem to imply that the phenomenon of double twins, or sets of twins, at a birth, is not so uncommon as has been generally supposed. Such is one of the most ordinary forms which a begging party will assume; and to this one, for sheer want of space, we must confine our illustra- tion. If such misery were real, it would be terrible indeed; but we have the most per- fect knowledge that the whole thing is a mere spectacle to impose upon the unwary; and that the seeming father and mother are wretches and vagabonds well known to the police. Can any one suppose, for a moment, that in bestowing alms upon such persons, he is really performing a charitable work? No! People give promiscuous alms, just to satisfy their consciences. If otherwise, it is per- haps to get rid of a nuisance. We will not tarry to inquire further, from what motive they give. They do give; and thereby in- flict a serious injury on society. The little vagabonds, full of vermin, and half eaten up with dirt, that haunt the street- crossings in Portland-place, &c., are a public nuisance. They get a nice living from the young ladies of the neighborhood during the day; and at night they rob every un- suspecting person of something of value. Girls and boys,—both are alike. The police- mennever interfere with them. There would appear to be a very “good understanding” between all parties. That this is so, no person will contradict. Ought it to continue ? I SAID :—YOU VOWED. I roLp you roses ne’er would wed Their bloom to wintry air ; But then you pressed my lips and said, The rose you loved bloomed there ! I said the wintry day was bare, The sun far out ot view ; You smiled, and vowed my golden hair Was sun-light unto you! I said the woods no more rejoice With notes more sweet than words ; But, oh, you whispered then, my voice Was sweeter than the birds. And still whatever charm I named That lends to Spring delight, You for your own lov’d maiden claim’d And lived but in her sight ! ? Blow, chilling winds of winter, blow ! Whilst love the heart illumes,— Life’s roses still exist ’mid snow, And spring eternal blooms ! Roll, heavy clouds of winter, roll ! Love, from the dark, hath thrown A sun-light over heait and soul More bright than Heaven’s own ! CHARLES Swatn. 352 THOUGHTS FOR THE SEASON. CHRISTMAS, AND THE NEW YEAR. *¢Christmas comes but once a year, So let it come cheerily ; Every face in smiles appear, Not an hour pass wearily !” TuEre is something in the institution, the time, the attributes, and the accompaniments of Christmas, which renders it perfectly delightful. The event which it commemorates is the greatest, and the most fraught with advantage to mankind, in the whole annals of therace. Independent of its religious and eternal importance, it is a pal- pable truth that the institution of Christmas, the event of which it is the anniversary, was the real birth-day of science, of art—as useful to man, and of that reciprocity of advantage between nation and nation, which may be said to give man the whole earth and sea as a heritage, in the exact proportion as he is cultivated in his mind, and diligent and moral in his conduct. Christmas falls at the most gloomy period of the departing year; when the winter has nearly taken the maximum of its effect, and when the return of the sun from the southern tropic, which is to bring us the buds, the blooms, the beauty, and the plenty of a new year, has barely begun, and is not palpable to common observation. The suspension of labor, the full enjoyment of every innocent sport, the copious festivity, and the general amenity of manners—by means of which restraint is taken off, and virtue led jocundly off in the silken cords of hearty, happy, and harmless glee—make this particular period no inconsiderable reward for twelve months of toil. The emblems, too, which are displayed in all English houses, great and small, and which extend from the cottages of the poor to the places of devotion—all are characteristic of hope or of happiness. The evergreen boughs are types of immortality, far more strong and direct than the more gaudy and perishing flowers of the summer; while the gloss and lustre of the holly berries, with the laurel, bring to one’s recollection the crowns and chaplets with which it was customary to adorn the brows of genius, before the invention of the printing-press enabled the labors of the mind to find a more lasting or more valuable memorial, in every house and on every memory. TRUE CHARITY. Tux poor only, can really feel for the poor. They alone know each other’s sufferings. ‘They alone know each others’ need of sympathy and kindness. People may talk as they will of the charity of the rich ; but this is as nothing compared with the charity of the poor. They heave immense loads of suffering from off each other, which the distant help of the rich could never reach. In seasons of privation, of sickness, of incle- mency, and of distress, the poor are each others’ comforters and supporters, to an extent, among better circles, never dreamt of. Contented to toil on from day to day, and from year to year, for a scanty and meagre pittance, they have yet wherewithal to spare when a brother is in want KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. or in distress. Nor is there ever wanting some friendly hand to smooth the pillow, and do all those little kind offices which make sickness tolerable. The women are in this respect especially devoted and untirmg. They make sacrifices, and run risks; and bear privations, and exercise patience and kindness—to a degree that the world never knows of, and would scarcely believe even if it did know. Aye! even these ‘lower orders” and “vulgar people” have a rough goodness of heart about them, which has often made us feel proud that we belonged to the same nature. They often display a philanthropy which would do honor to the best and noblest of our species. MY LITTLE SUNBEAM. ‘6 Despise not the’day of small things.”’ Never saw my _little® sunbeam? Indeed! Well; she was a little creature who passed my window each day, on her way to school, and who made my acquaintance, child-fashion, with a smile. Perhaps none but myself would have called her pretty ; but her eyes were full of love, and her voice of music. Every day she laid a little bunch of violets on.my window. You might have thought it a trifling gift, but it was much to me; for, after my little sunbeam had vanished, I closed my eyes, and the fragrance of those tiny flowers carried me back, oh, whither! They told of a fragrant, shadowy wood; of a rippling brook; of a bird’s song; of whispered leafmusic ; of a mossy seat ; of dark, sunlit eyes; of a voice sweet and low, and thrilling ; of a vow that was never. broken till death chilled the lips that made it. God shield my little sunbeam ! May she find more roses than thorns in her earthly pathway !—From Fanny Ferrn’s Porr- FOLIO (0f- course). “READ—MARK—LEARN |” The same care and toil that will raise a dish of peas out of season, would give bread to a whole family for six long months. “ HOME, SWEET HOME! ”’ Home’s not merely four square walls, Though with pictures hung and gilded; Home is where Affection calls— Filled with shrines the Heart hath builded. Home !—go watch the faithful dove Sailing “neath the Heaven above us,— Home is where there’s one to love ; Home is where there’s one to love us! Home’s not merely roof and room, It needs something to endear it ; Home is where the heart can bloom, Where there’s some kind lip to cheer it! What is home with none to meet, None to welcome, none to greet us ? Home is sweet—and only sweet WHERE THERE’S ONE WE LOVE TO MEET US! C. Swain. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. JANUARY, Tis now the fowls of Heaven, Tamed by the cruel season, crowd around The winnowing store, and claim the little boon Which Providence assigns them. CowreERr. Close behind the woodman’s heel His dog creeps slow ; and now with many a frisk, Wide scamp’ring, snatches up the drifted snow With iv’ry teeth; or ploughs it with his snout— Then shakes his powder’d coat, and barks for joy. » APPY,—TRULY HAPPY, OUGHT ® EVERYBODY TO BE IN THE MONTH OF JANUARY. Cold without, and cheerless, yet is it a month of universal rejoicing within; and beginning as it does a New Year, it affords us all noble opportunities for doing good ona large scale. If we were “ good”’ last year, let us be “better” this. There is plenty of room for improvement in us ALL. An honorable strife lies before us. We always rejoice in the month of January, because it brings before us so much of the better part of human nature. Our boys and our girls will not let us be stiff, formal, polite, and “ fashionable’’—now. They cannot un- derstand these things in the Christmas holidays. They must enjoy themselves in sight-seeing, sliding, skating, romping, running, and playing. This last pastime includes all we could say, were we to talk for a month. And how we papas and mammas do enter into the little pleasures of our juveniles! Do we not feel ourselves young again for their sakes, and dance away with them till we are fairly out of breath? Of course we do! and thus bid defiance to all the prudes and withered parchment in the kingdom. And is there nothing else that we do to make ourselves agreeable, and to keep up the “good old customs?” Oh,—yes! If the boys romp, and the girls romp, WE must romp too. If sly, arch-looking faces, will contrive mysteriously to lead us under a certain tempting bough, of course we will pay and receive tribute,—joyfully. Our age confers on us immense privileges in this way. We are looked upon as “ lawful’ sport, and there is positively no end of the sweet benedictions showered upon us. Well; do we not love it to be so? = Most assuredly ! We need not enter minutely into the sayings and doings peculiar to this month of merry-making. ‘The happy, innocent faces that meet us at every turn, tell us plainly that the great secret of happiness is known to one and all. Care flits trom every brow. The present moment seems to be alone thought of, and family circles unite in love and harmony. This is what we rejoice in Vor LV-—23: 393 We only regret that such things should be ephemeral. However, we will not debate about that now. Exhibitions of all kinds are in active request by day, and merry parties are in vogue when darkness covers the earth. Of these fire-side delights we need say nothing. If we see one, we see all. Nature is now holding her court; and where she is, all must be concord and amity. Long may she reign! Twelfth-night is at hand, too! What doings we shall all have! It is our wont, as well as our delight, to chat monthly about what is doing ouwt-of- doors. This, however, would be mal-apropos, we fear, at the present time. Few will believe that there can be anything now to admire in the fields, or any inducement to wander forth fora bracing walk. We cannot agree with those who thus think; but we can make every allowance for them. People living in towns and cities are so used to good fires, and are so little accustomed to range abroad in the country, that habit confirms their prejudices. We, however, who live in the country, see charms in it at all times; and a walk is to us, even when the weather is most intensely cold, a real treat. Who suffers most in the matter of health and sickness,—the man who lives in town, or the man who lives in the country (we mean during the season of winter)? Ask our medical men. If they speak truth, they will tell you there is no comparison between the two cases. The one is continually ailing ; suffering from cold, &c.,—the other is ever on the alert, healthy, hungry,—jolly. Exercise and fresh-air are a positive terror to our medical men. They want delicate patients. Londoners, however, care little for air and exercise; and consequently are for ever on the sick list. Thus doth medicine form a principal part of their diet. It would be vain for us to comment on the various maladies that are about to visit us,—colds, coughs, catarrhs, bronchitis, &c., &e. At least one half of these are brought on by our own imprudence. “ Fashion’’ will have her own way in dictating articles of apparel, and our fashionable women will continue to do as they ever have done. Hence is their punishment just. We really have no pity for them. But we must away. Judging from the aspect of the weather, whilst we write, we may anticipate frost, snow, and a severe winter. We shall gladly bid them all welcome. We really require an old-fashioned winter, to regenerate the earth. The very thought of snow makes one feel poetical ; and as for hoar frost,— beholding. What dream of beauty ever equall'd this ? What bands of fairy-land have sallied forth, With all the foliage of the abundant North, With imagery from the realms of bliss! What visions of our boyhood do we miss AA aT 354 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. That here are not restor’d? All splendors pure, All loveliness, all graces that allure— Shapes that amaze—a paradise that is, Yet was not, will not in few moments be. Glory from nakedness, that playfully Mimics, with passing life, each summer boon : Clothing the ground, replenishing the tree; Weaving arch, bower, and radiant festoon, Still as a dream, and like a dream to flee. Then there are our little pensioners, the birds, to be kind to in our walks; and other little charitable acts to be performed before we return,—these, and we know not how many other pleasing occupations, make the days pass away so delightfully that Spring has arrived almost ere Winter has departed. We repeat it,—January is a cheerful and delightful month for all who have hearts to enjoy it, and the disposition to do good. We shall set a fair example in this matter. Let us hope it will be generally followed,— For, as the light Not only serves to show, but renders us Mutually profitable; so our lives, In acts exemplary, not only win Ourselves good names, but do to others give Matter for virtuous deeds, by which we live. FORGET THEE !—NEVER!! “Forget thee!””—If to dream by night, and muse on thee by day ; If all the worship deep and wild a poet’s heart can pay, If prayers in absence, breathed for thee to Heaven’s protecting power, If winged thoughts that flit to thee, a thousand in an hour, If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot, If this thou call’st “ forgetting,” thou indeed shalt be forgot ! “Forget thee ! ’—Bid the forest birds forget their sweetest tune, “Forget thee!”—Bid the sea forget to swell beneath the moon; Bid the thirsty flowers forget to drink the eve’s refreshing dew ; Thyself forget thine ‘own dear land” and its “mountains wild and blue ;” Forget each old familiar face, each long-remem- bered spot: When these things are forgot by thee, then thou shalt be forgot ! Keep, if thou wilt, thy maiden peace still calm and fancy free ; For God forbid thy gladsome heart should grow less glad for me; Yet, while that heart is still unwon, Oh! bid not mine to rove, But ie} it muse its humble faith and uncomplaining ove: If these preserved for patient years at last avail me not, Forget me, then;—but ne’er believe that tTHou canst be forgot ! J. M NATURE'S GIFT TO MAN AND BEAST. THE FOLLOWING, translated from the German, will bear reading more than once, twice, or thrice :— When the world was created—and all creatures assembled to have their lifetime appointed, the ass first advanced, and asked how long he would have to live. “ Thirty years,” replied Nature; “ will that be agree- able to thee?’ ‘ Alas!” answered the ass, “it is a long while! Remember what a wearisome existence will be mine; from morning until night I shall have to bear heavy burdens, dragging corn sacks to the mill, that others may eat bread; while I shall have no encouragement, nor be refreshed by anything but blows and kicks. Give me but a portion of that time, I pray!’ Nature was moved with compassion, and presented but eighteen years. The ass went away comforted, and the dog came forward. ‘“ How long dost thou require to live?” asked Nature. “ Thirty years were too many for the ass, but wilt thou be con- tented with them?” “Ts it thy will that it should?” replied the dog. “Thimk how much I shall have to run about ; my feet will not last for so long a time; and when I shall have lost my voice for barking, and my teeth for biting, what else shall I be fit for but to lie ina corner and growl?” Nature thought he was right, and gave him twelve years. The ape appeared. “ Thou wilt, doubtless, willingly live the thirty years,” said Nature ; “thou wilt not have to labor as the ass and the dog. Life will be pleasant to thee.” ‘““Ah, no!’ cried he, “so it may seem to others, but it will not be! Should puddings ever rain down, I shall have no spoon! I shall play merry tricks, and excite laughter by my grimaces, and then be rewarded with a sour apple.” (How often sorrow lies con- cealed behind ajest!) “I shall not be able to endure for thirty years.” Nature was gracious, and he received but ten. At last came Man, healthy and strong, and asked the measure of hisdays. ‘‘ Will thirty years content thee?’ ‘‘ How short atime!” exclaimed Man. ‘* When I shall have built my house, and kindled a fire on my own hearth; when the trees I shall have planted are about to bloom and bear fruit ; when life will seem to me most desirable, I shall die! O Nature, grant me a longer period !” ‘* Thou shalt have the eighteen years of the ass be- side.” “That is not yet enough,” replied Man. ‘‘ Take likewise the twelve years of the dog.” “Itis not yet sufficient,” reiterated Man, “give me more!” “TI give thee, then, the ten years of the ape; in vain wilt thou crave more!” Man departed unsatisfied. ‘Thus Man lives seventy years. The first thirty KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL, are his haman years, and pass swiftly by. He is then healthy and happy—he labors cheer- fully and rejoices in his existence. The eigh- teen years of the ass come next, and burden upon burden is heaped upon him; he carries the corn that is to feed others ; blows and kicks are the wages of his faithful service. The twelve years of the dog follow, and he loses his teeth, and lies in a corner and growls. When these are gone, the ape’s ten years form the conclusion. ‘Then Man—weak and silly, becomes the sport of children! PROLIFIC POWERS OF VEGETATION. Ir we cast our eyes on the surface of the earth, we shall be convinced of the prolific powers of vegetables, and of the lower order of animals, with relation to those of a higher class. One single plant of elecampane shall frequently produce, in one season, three thousand seeds; the poppy, three thousand four hundred ; the sun-flower, four thou- sand ; the tobacco plant has been known to bring to maturity forty thousand three hundred and twenty seeds. The astonishing power with which God has endued the vegetable creation to multiply its different species, is more especially manifested in the elm. It is stated by Dr. Clark, that this tree produces upwards of one thousand five hundred millions of seeds, and each of these seeds has the power of producing the same number. How astonishing is this produce! At first one seed ig deposited in the earth; from this one a tree springs, which, in the course of its vegetative life, produces one thousand five hundred and eighty- four millions of seeds—this is the first generation. _The second generation will amount to two trillions, five hundred and ten thousand and fifty- six millions. The third generation will amount to fourteen thousand six hundred and fifty-eight quadrillions, seven hundred and twenty-seven thousand and forty trillions! And the fourth generation from these would amount to fifty-one sextillions, four hundred and eighty-one thousand three hundred and eighty-one quintillions, one hundred and twenty-three thousand one hundred and thirty sex-quadrillions !—sums too immense for the human mind to conceive. And when we allow the most confined space in which a tree can grow, it appears—that the seeds of the third generation, from one elm, would be many myriads of times more than sufficient to stock the whole superficies of all the planets in the solar system! If it were not therefore for the destruction which vegetables sustain by the various animals to which they afford nourishment, and to whose use they subserve,—not only the bosom, but the surface of the earth would form a vast animated column. THE TRUE LADDER OF KNOWLEDGE. / LIFE, A VAPOR. Wuenre are the modest violets gone, That grew so faintly sweet ; And, as the Queen of May passed on, Were strew’d beneath her feet ? Maiden! Spring not long can stay ; Violets must fade away. Where are the flowers I loved the best, The glowing roses—say ! That decked the village maiden’s breast, And peasant’s hat so gay ? Youth! the Summer months must fly, And the brilliant roses die. Then lead me to the streamlet’s brink— In murmurs soft and low, It bids the thirsty blossoms drink That on the margin grow. The sun was fierce—the wind was high— The streamlet’s pebbled bed is dry. Show me the bower I loved of old, To rest in, unperceived, Where tales of simple love were told— By simple hearts believed. The leaves are gone—the flowers are dead— The cool and fragrant shade has fled. The gentle maid, who, when she met My gaze, her eyes ne’er raised, But on the timid violet (Her own sweet emblem) gazed— Beauty withers ; and the maid Like the leaves and flowers, must fade. But where is he who passed his hours Lost in a pleasing dream ? Who sang the shepherdess—the flowers— The arbour—and the stream? Fancy flies—life soon is o’er— The Youthful Poet is no more! THE HUMAN FRAME. Tue number of hinge and other joints in the human frame is nearly one hundred and fifty; and we see the wisdom ofthe Great Creator displayedin this structure and connexion of the bones. What if the point of the knee could move in every direc- tion with that of the shoulder? Do we not see that when we walked, the legs would have dangled about strangely, instead of moving back- wards and forwards in one direction only? And isitnot plain that we never could have stood firmly on the ground? In like manner, how very inconvenient it would have been to have our finger-joints move one way as well as another! On the contrary, how confined and cramped would have been the motion of the arm, if the shoulder had been like the knee, and had only permitted the arm to swing backwards and forwards, without our being able to carry it outward from the bory! The builders of machines have sometimes made joints in their machinery very much like the shoulder-joint ; but it is doubtful whether they ever Tuoucn there were many giants of old, in | could have contrived such, if they had not first physics and philosophy, yet I say, with Didacus | looked at the bones of a man, or some other Stella: ‘A dwarf, standing on the shoulders of a | animal; for other animals have these various giant, may see further than the giant himself.” | sorts of joints, adapted to their peculiar wants, as | — Bourton. well as Man. 356 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. AFFLICTION—HOPE—RESIGNATION. BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. Sue had known better days. Fortune had smil’d At her approach, and strew’d her path with flow’rs. Wealth, too, had welcomed her; and Affluence, With that kind smile that cheers the saddest soul, Had given her its blessing! But, alas! These joys were gone; and she had stood alone, A weary mourner o’er the fatal wreck, Had not her noble spirit braved the storm,— Breasted the billows, raised her gentle voice, And claim’d that mercy from the hand of Time Which Heaven administers to those who weep. She spurn’d the tempter; heeded not the voice That in the darkest hour of misery Bade her “ curse God and die.” Sweetly she smiled, And murmur’d not at Fate’s decree ; for Hope Had shed its lustre on the path of Life, Smooth’d the rough track, and led her gently on To bear affliction’s scourge, to “hear the rod,”— Meekly submitting to the will of God. Love, too, had cheer’d her heart. Within her breast Existed joys that neither pain nor care, Grief, anguish, wretchedness, torture, nor woe,— Could ever teach her to forget. The merry, sportive glance of her bright eye Had mellow’d to a look of calm, serene, And holy resignation. But her lips Still breathed a blessing ! EABITS OF THE ANT, A. GREAT DEAL has been said about the Ant laying up provision for winter, and there are many who deny the received opinion that they are thus provident. The late Mr. Kirby thus remarks upon the subject :-— Vili the manners of exotic ants are more accurately explored, it would be rash to affirm that no ants have magazines of pro- visions ; for although during the cold of our winters in this country they remain ina state of torpidity, and have no need of food; yet, in warmer regions, during the rainy season, when they are probably confined to their nests, a store of provisions may be necessary for them. Even in northern climates, against wet seasons they may provide in this way for their sustenance, and that of the young brood, which, as Mr. Smeathman observes, are very voracious, and cannot bear to be long deprived of their food; else why do ants carry worms, living insects, and many other such things into their nests? Solo- mon’s lesson to the sluggard has been gene- rally adduced as a strong confirmation of the ancient opinion. It can, however, only relate to the species of a warm climate, the habits of which, as I have just observed, are probably different from those of a cold one; so that his words, as commonly interpreted, may be perfectly correct and consistent with nature, and yet not be at all applicable to the species that are indigenous to Europe. But I think if Solomon’s words are pro- perly considered, it will be found that this | interpretation has been “ fathered” upon them rather than fairly deduced from them. He does not affirm that the ant, which he pro- poses to his sluggard as an example, laid up in her magazine stores of grain —“ Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise; which having neither captain, over- seer, nor ruler, prepareth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest.” These words may very well be interpreted simply to mean that the ant, with commendable prudence and foresight, makes use of the proper season to collect a supply of provisions sufficient for her purposes. There is not a word in them implying that she stores up grain or other provision. She prepares her bread, and gathers her food— namely, such food as is suited to her in summer and harvest—that is, when it is most plentiful—and thus shows her wisdom and prudence, by using the advantages offered to her. The words, thus interpreted—which they may be, without any violence—will apply to our Kuropean species, as well as to those which are not indigenous. Here is sense enough, we imagine, to quiet all cavillers, who labor so hard to prove Nature wnnatural. NATURE’S PROVISION FOR THE SUPPORT OF VEGETABLE LIFE. All who love to trace the more minute works of the Almighty will read the sub- joined remarks, by a correspondent to an Albany paper, with delight. Whoever, says the writer, may have occa- sion to wander out amongst the numerous sphagnous swamps that diversify the sandy plains in the neighborhood of our city, almost at any time during the month of June—will ‘not fail to have his attention directed to some singularly-beauticul clusters of reddish purple flowers, each one nodding on a solitary foot- stall, that ascends from a whorl of far more singularly-constituted leaves. These flowers are large in size, with the petals greatly incurved; while the pale yellow stigma which occupies the centre expands in such a manner as effectually to conceal the more important organs of fructification from the sight. The leaves, when mature, are of a fine green color; more or less stained with purple, and beautifully veined with tint of a much deeper hue. In form and general ap- pearance, they have a striking resemblance to some of the antique lamps, so often met with in the collections of the curious. The cavity, or reservoir, as it has aptly been termed, which occupies the centre of the ‘leaf, is at all times partially filled with water, originating from the dews or rains. Into these, numerous species of coleoptera and other insects venture, and are not unfre- quently found drowned. They have met their death in pursuit of a saccharine con- cretion that copiously exudes from their internal surfaces. By this beautiful provision of nature, these plants are not only abundantly supplied with moisture when the excessive heats of summer are likely to prevail for any length of time, and create unusual drought—but they are likewise thus furnished with the usual amount of animal food which they may necessarily require for their sustenance. The manner in which these insects are imprisoned is curious. , Immediately below the throat of these cavities, for the space of nearly an inch, the surface is highly polished; while the lower part of the tube is covered with rigid hairs, all pointing downward. When an insect, in the first instance attracted by the secretion of the plant, or perhaps even by the water—descends (as it can easily do along the declining pubescens), it appears incapable of again ascending by its feet alone; and can escape only by a flight So perpendicular as to surpass the power of most insects. Whenever they touch the bristly sides of the tube, they are precipitated again to the bottom, and have to renew their efforts; and many of them, even of the largest size, perish in this arduous and hope- less struggle. This is “one” only of many millions of wonders, which await the eye of a curious observer and student of Nature. Let us begin the New YEAR with new energies, and search out more of these marvels. NOTES ON OUR “ NOBLE” BIRDS. AN EAGLE, although he may have been trained for a long time, and with great care, for the purpose of hunting, is just as likely to swoop at and kill his master’s dogs, or even to attack a man himself, as to fly at any game. In this he differs from the falcons ; that is, those of the hawk tribe, who are called “noble falcons” in contradistinction to those termed “ignoble.” The Iceland, the Greenland, the peregrin, and the merlin also, are all “noble falcons.” The latter, formerly in high repute for the chase, is now so seldom seen in this country, either alive or dead, that little is known as to his merits; but the other noble hawks that I have enumerated are all of a most kindly and tractable disposition ; and possess KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 357 that great courage which gives them the full confidence in man which is necessary for their education. These birds have also great aptitude to receive instruction; their habits are social: and before they have been long in confinement they become perfectly contented with their lot. When out in the field, a trained hawk is in no way flurried or alarmed by the move- ment of men or dogs, but sits looking, when unhooded, with calm confidence on all that is going on around him; and, although his fine dark eye evinces neither fear nor dis- quietude, not the smallest bird can pass with- out his immediately descrying it, and intently watching it until it is lost in the distance— and great must that distance be which conceals any bird from the falcon’s eye! Ihave often, says St. John, in his Scotch Tour, fired my, gun off at a bird witha hooded hawk sitting on one arm, without his evincing the least fear or uneasiness ; as great a proof of his courage as need be required. In fact, a hawk, like a dog, soon learns to look upon her master as her best friend. SELF-DENYING CHARITY. THERE is a great talk in the world about Charity ; but it is (most of it) ostentatious charity. The right hand and the left hand know all about it. Let us hear what Frerprne says touching the matter :— “There is one degree of charity which has a singular species of merit ; and that is where, from a principle of benevolence and Christian love, we bestow on one another what we really want our- selves ; where, in order to lessen the distresses of another, we condescend to share some of them by giving what even our own necessities cannot well spare. ; “This is truly meritorious. But to relieve our brethren only with our superfluities—to be chari- table rather at the expense of our coffers than ourselves—to save several families from misery, rather than hang upan extraordinary picture in our houses, or gratify any other idle ridiculous vanity— this seems to be only being human creatures. Nay, itis in some degree being epicures; for what could the greatest epicure wish, rather than to eat with many mouths instead of one? ‘This may be predicated of any one that knows that the bread of many is owing to his own largesses.”’ If Frevprne were living now, how very. much shocked he would be at the modern view of Charity! Our English adage,—“ Charity begins ‘at home,’ ” would make “ each particular hair on his head to stand on end!” THE GOLDEN SUN. A blessed thing the golden sun, Who kisseth morning dews away ; And blessed things the dews that run O’er bud and blade at close of day, To give them bloom and bid them be. Fair gems in Nature’s treasury. 358 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. PHRENOLOGY FOR THE MILLION. No. L—PHYSIOLOGY OF THE BRAIN. BY J. F. GALL, M.D. (Continued from Page 293.) WE SPOKE, IN OUR LAST, OF THE IMPORTANT obligation laid upon us to prevent crimes. Let us pursue the subject, and now discourse of HOUSES OF CORRECTION AND PRISONS. There are some organisations so defective, and some combinations of circumstances so unfortu- nate, that it is absolutely impossible to prevent all crimes, even the most atrocious. We can only hope, whatever means we may employ, to diminish the number of malefactors. We have seen that the want of instruction, ignorance of moral and religious precepts, of the laws of duties toward men and toward God, are some of the principal sources of the criminal aber- rations of men. We must then supply from with- out, what is wanting to these individuals on the part of internal organisation and education. It is necessary, in the first place, that prisons should become houses of correction. ‘The treatment which has been used in prisons toward criminals, and which still continues the same in many places, would entirely defeat the end of all correction. Ordinary criminals, even when their crimes were different, were commonly collected in large numbers. We have, in fact, often seen indivi- duals merely arraigned for trial, mingled with prisoners already condemned. In certain places all were idle; ordinarily, they are occupied in labor, sometimes too easy, sometimes too difii- cult, often filthy and noxious, and almost always unprofitable. They avail themselves of every moment when they can escape notice, to recount to one another their adventures—each one finding great satisfaction in making known to others his own performances; and in this manner, as the prisoners themselves say, the prisons are like schools, in which all kinds of villanies are taught. The corruption of the new comer, especially when, from natural propensity, he finds pleasure in this species of instruction, is soon accomplished. He soon habituates himself to living in intimacy with the refuse of men. All shame, all horror of crime and of criminals, disappears; they become ac- quainted, make friends of each other, and concert joint plans for the future. Hardly are any set at liberty, when they seek to unite, to resume, with more audacity, their former mode of life. ‘There remains, in fact, to those who leave the prison, no other course to pursue. They are sent out without money, and without being assigned any deter- minate occupation. In some countries, they are not even under the immediate watch of the police; many, besides, are banished; and it follows that the neighboring states are infested with banditti. It seems to me, that this last species of punish- ment ought, at most, to be admissible only for political offences. Is the individual subjected to the punishment of branding? he is then publicly disgraced. What will become of him? Who will work with him? Who will employ him? Not only are all these punishments without any real object, but they oblige these wretches to de- vote themselves to crime, on pain of starving to death. Branding can serve no other purpose, than to betray those malefactors who fall again into crime, and who have escaped from the prisons to which they had been condemned for life. The prison is not always the kind of punish- ment which suits the character of the criminal and his peculiar propensities to evil. The society they enjoy renders their lives less miserable. If they are ill-fed, they are at least secured from all the wants common to this class of men; they are clothed and preserved from the injuries of the air. We have even seen some who procured their own arrest, in order to find a refuge in the prison. Men and women are often left together; whence it happens that, in the prisons themselves, their numbers are multiplied. Sometimes the prisoners are permitted to have their children with them. On the other hand, the punishments in prisons are often heavier than the law prescribes; espe- cially when the buildings are dirty, or placed in a damp soil, or constructed with stones, which at- tract and transmit the humidity of the atmosphere. Hence arises the so general alteration of the fluids and the solids; hence emanate tumors, glandu- lar and cutaneous affections, pneumonia, blind- ness, &c. Ifthe food is bad, and consists prin- cipally in dry pulse, this regimen is followed by dysenteries, which soon become mortal. When the punishment of a criminal is limited to a deten- tion for a stated time, it would be in accordance with the spirit of the sentence, to inflict the pun- ishment so as not to destroy the individual’s health. [Ill-constructed and_ badly-organised prisons injure the social state in many respects, and the prisoners who are accustomed to inaction, or to such labors as spinning wool, or sawing dye-woods, which will not answer for them when placed at liberty, often remain a long time without resource. It is not surprising, then, that we find the prisons generally peopled with persons who return to them the second and even the tenth time. This faithful picture of places of confinement shows the urgent necessity of combining in them ali the institutions, proper to furnish to those who have been seduced, and those naturally wicked, all sorts of means to induce them to act con- formably to social order, and their own good. These principles were not new at the time of the first impression of my work ; and fortunately they are still less so at this moment. Men had long since insisted on the imstruction of the ignorant, on the reform of the erring, on the ame- lioration of criminals, and the extirpation of vices. But these rules have not been very generally exe- cuted, Itis at Philadelphia that they have been put in practice for the first time. The happy effects, which resulted hence, have encouraged other humane governments to imitate the example. Several States, besides prisons, have established houses of reformation and correction ; where instruction is the principal object, and where they habituate the inmates to constant toil and an honest trade. On the other hand, punishment is no longer the only object in prisons; there is also regard had to the moral correction. There are daily given to the prisoners, lessons in reading, writing, calculation, morals, and religion. It is ST a a a aaa aac KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL, 359 also sought to direct their attention to the duties of the citizen, and to the mutual relations of social life. Those who know no trade, are com- pelled to learn one ; and those who conduct in the best manner, serve afterwards as masters and overseers. Those who know a trade, practise it. We may consider a prison, conducted in this way, as a manufactory. The labor of the prisoners provides abundantly for the maintenance of the house ; and by giving them better food, it follows that scarce six in a hundred are incapable of work- ing. Hence is avoided that kind of injustice, which arises from feeding the disturbers of the public peace at the expense of society. What each individual gains above the sum prescribed, is placed in reserve ; part is given to his family, if in want, or it is given to the prisoner himself at his departure, that he may not be obliged to commit any excesses while waiting for work. In such establishments, the principle is duly regarded that food and drink have great influence on the actions of men. It is therefore attempted, by wholesome and simple diet, and by the absence of inebriating liquors, to calm the effervescence of the passions. The efficacy of all these measures, and of the employment of the noblest motives, is made manifest by a comparison of the recommit- ments which take place in the common prisons, and those which occur in these establishments. In the first, it is calculated that among the pri- soners, there are at least one half, if not three fourths, who are there for the second time; in the second, on the contrary, of an hundred who are set at liberty, scarce two again return. Though constant experience has taught, that such treatment is no less profitable to the state, than to the unhappy criminal, yet I have heard the remark made by some, that the only obliga- tion of the state toward such beings was to punish them, and that, as for education and instruction, it was for them to provide for it. ‘But these are precisely the men,” said the generous monarch of Bavaria to us, “‘ who have the greatest need of assistance of this kind. How, in fact, can we exact social virtues from persons who are absolutely ignorant what relations exist between their own private interests and those of society, and who are besides a prey to the violence of their own gross passions? Besides, no crime is ever committed without the life of innocent men, or their property, being the sacrifice.” Let us then do that for society, which we will not do for the criminal. It will only be, when we have united to punishment the care of instructing the mind and forming the heart, that we shall be able to satisfy ourselves, that, in conformity to the law which directs us to prevent crimes, we have done for these wretches, and for the state, all that is recommended by experience, the laws of man’s organisation, and the knowledge of his wants. So long as we are contented with forbidding and with punishing, we hold out an inducement to obedience, it is true; but this inducement acts only so long as the punishment appears certain. By enlightening the mind, on the contrary, by abundantly supplying it with the noblest motives drawn from morality and religion, means are given him, the force of which is never lost. Man then learns to recognise witnesses of his actions, from whose vigilance he cannot escape. Let us never lose sight of the fact, that of two objects, man does not, without motive, choose one in pre- ference to the other, and that the perfection of the will consists in the knowledge of the goodness and excellence of the motives. ‘The benefits produced for some years by the Royal Society for the Amelioration of Prisons, founded in 1819, under the ministry of the Duke of Decazes, are too striking and too well known, to make it necessary for me to dilate upon this generous enterprise. Let my readers examine the statistics, the various reports made by Counts Dru, de la Borde, &c. Unhappily, all these generous efforts will fail of entire success, so long as criminal legislation continues to condemn to the collar (carcan) and to branding, for crimes which are judged insuffi- cient to deserve perpetual imprisonment. Of Repentance, or of the Consience of Malefactors. It is commonly imagined, that malefactors, who are condemned only to imprisonment of greater or less duration, end with repentance— finally resolving to renounce their evil habits and return to good behavior. Nay, more; the hope is cherished, that those condemned to perpetual imprisonment, to hard labor for life, to the punish- ment of death, will make a sincere confession of all their crimes and all their accomplices, and in their effort to obtain pardon, at least in the other world, will be tormented by the stings of conscience and will experience sincere repentance. But experience, in this respect, gives a very different result. I do not deny that some crimi- nals experience sincere repentance: there are some who have been drawn into crime by want of reflection, by an unfortunate fit of passion, by poverty and want, by seduction, and other very pressing external circumstances. If, for instance, a dishonored and abandoned mother, in an instant of wild despair, lays a trembling hand on her child, and deprives it of life—its innocent blood will always be present to her eyes, and will poison every moment of her existence. When once the fatal concurrence of circumstances has passed, the milder feelings within will again be awakened. There then appears a total contra- diction between the natural sentiments and the act committed; and this contradiction is what constitutes repentance, or the natural conscience. We saw a man at. Spandau, who had killed his wife in a violent fit of anger: this man was so unhappy, that he eagerly demanded death, to be delivered from the insupportable burden of his remorse. Charles Benzel, born of good parents and with an internal disposition to piety, had been well educated ; accordingly, he was the only one of all the band of Schinderhannes who repented of his conduct. But he who is drawn into crime by internal propensity, will rarely experience natural repen- tance. In such a man, the inclinations which lead to evil are predominant—if the expression may be used, they compose his proper character ; consequently, all the acts which emanate from him are in harmony with his whole being, and the tranquillity of his soul is rarely disturbed by them. This depraved view of man may naturally dis- please some of those persons, whose dreams are 360 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. only of the dignity of the human species. But, examine the usurer, the libertine, the villain, and you will see that each of them is happy, only in proportion as he satisfies his desires. It is in vain that the cheated orphan, that betrayed and aban- doned innocence, often console themselves with the idea—that such a villain will one day feel repent- ance for his criminal actions. I have, from my youth, made the sad and alarming observation, that the most perverse men grow proud of their talents for deceiving and abusing, and that they always dwell with a sentiment of delight on the striking traits of their disorderly course. Go into the prisons; place yourself in the midst of the prisoners; avoid the appearance of a public functionaiy, lest you be mocked with pretended repentince ; inspire these men with frankness and confidence ; with what internal satisfaction, with what joy and pride in wickedness, will the distin- guished criminals recount to you their crimes, without forgetting the most insignificant details, and the particular mode they adopted in commit- ting them! If, at any time, one of them gives himself the trouble to speak on the subject with pretended horror, there will generally escape a malignant smile, which betrays his hypocrisy. Most of them employ their wit in uttering the gayest sallies on the most atrocious actions; and frequently, at the moment you shudder with horror, they burst into alaugh. Reckon up in the prisons how many have been remanded, and you will be easily convinced how few have repented. Finally, examine all the remarkable criminals in state trials, judicial proceedings; follow them to the scaffold; with what obstinacy do some deny the most evident facts! with what surprising audacity do they insult the witnesses who accuse them! with what unblushing sincerity, and scru- pulous exactness, do others recount a series of horrible crimes! A soldier had committed rob- bery in twenty churches. They led him to the scaffold, where he still expected to receive pardon. But in place of showing any repentance, he said to auditor Weldermann, at Vienna, ‘I see there is no more to be done here; I must try to go elsewhere.” At Vienna, one Z murdered his mistress, in order to rob her of three hundred florins : he then cut up the body, in order to pack it more conveniently in a box. Instead of being troubled by this crime, he goes to a ball, there passes the night, spends all his money, and gives himself up to all the excesses of brutal enjoyment. M. Bruggmanns, professor at Leyden, showed us the skull of the chief of a band of Dutch robbers. This man had thrown several people into the canals, solely to see them struggle against death. ‘“‘ What can they do to me,” said he at his trial, ““am I not an honest man?” A girl who had aided her mother to kill her father, did not testify the least repentance; when they reproached her with the crime, she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. Schinderhannes, and Heckmann, his accomplice, derived great pleasure in recounting their crimes; their eyes sparkled during the recital. All the accessory circumstances, which seemed to them proper to convey a great idea of them, gave them great satisfaction. Rossignol used to boast of his barbarity. “Look at this arm!” said he; ‘well, it has cut the throats of sixty-three priests at the Carmes de Paris!” Repeatedly escaping from prison, he re-commenced, and, like all those who are born for wickedness, repeated his robberies, his cruelties, and the most revolting gluttony. Gobrino Fon- dulo invited Charles Cavalcato, the head of his family, to come to his country-house with nine or ten of his relations; he had them all murdered at a banquet. After this barbarous execution, becoming master of the government of the city, he there practised all sorts of cruelties, until Philip Visconti, Duke of Milan, ordered him to be beheaded. His confessor vainly exhorted him to repent of his crimes ; he fiercely answered, that he had but one thing to repent of, namely, that he had not hurled from the top of the tower of Cremona, (one of the highest m Europe,) Pope John XXIIL., and the Emperor Sigismund, when they had the curiosity to ascend it with him. Read the biographies of the tyrants who have desolated the earth, who have spilled torrents of blood ; read the history of all the famous wretches, of the incendiaries, of the most atrocious robbers, and see if you can find one who ever abandoned crime before justice overtook him. There have even been some who, at the moment of their execution, in reviewing all the enjoyments with which they had satiated themselves, boasted that none equalled those which cruelty had caused them. But let us terminate these examples, which are revolting to humanity! All, judicial proceedings justify my observation,—that a hardened criminal is rarely accessible to remorse and repentance. This observation is even confirmed in criminals of an inferior order, whenever, through an unhappy but decided organisation, they have been power- fully urged to debauchery, fraud, theft, &c. I have never seen such a voluptuary, to whatever excess he may have carried his indulgence—such a villain, however unhappy he may have rendered numerous families—I have never seen a deter- mined robber, &c., renounce, by sincere repent- tance, the horrors of his life; but I have seen many, who, being convinced of the abominable character of their habits, and feeling the impossi- bility of controlling them, have begged, as a favor, that they should be restrained from having it in their power to give themselves up thenceforth to their destructive propensities. THOUGHTS ON A DEAD ROSE. Nay—do not touch that faded flower, Albeit both scent and hue have flown ; For it may still retain a power Some gentle heart may joy to own: Hidden beneath each withered leaf, A chastening spell, to memory dear, May yield that burthened heart relief When Hope itself is sere ! There let it lie, ’mid records sweet, _ By feeling prompted, genius graced, Type of their fate, memorial meet Of “young affections run to waste!” Left on their stem—(how fugitive !) ~ Those cherished leaves had soon been shed; But thus embalmed, will seem to live Till Memory’s self be dead ! KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 361 AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A DOG,—No. XX. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. (Continued from Page 298.) I promisep, my dear friend, in my last, to recur to the adventures of Bombyx and myself with the worthy rural policeman; and to recount the principal scenes which led, eventually, to his complete discomfiture. The policeman was evi- dently very annoyed at the result of his appli- cation tothe municipal tribunal; and, accordingly, made up his mind to be revenged one way or the other. War, & l’outrance, was the order of the day. Before proceeding further, I must give you a little insight into the relative position of our resi- dence, and that of a few contiguous houses. The back part of our house was on the high road; and the entire premises were enclosed within a high wall. Near the back gates, were the stabling, &c. The front gates.were on a corner angle of the high road. At a*considerable distance from the back gates, was the residence of ‘‘ David le Dinde” (the farmer), and his sweet wife ‘la Nannetta,”’ sans oublier ses Mignons de jolis enfans. At about ten minutes’ walk from our house, was,a dirty, low “‘ pinte,” kept by a certain R——, one bf the worst revolutionary Radicals you could well imagine—a scoundrel who, for a few ‘‘ batzen,” would undertake any job that presented itself. This horrid den was the rendezvous of all the thieves and vagabonds of Cour, who assembled there to concoct revolutionary plans, to concert robberies, discuss politics, and drink oceans of cheap wine. These all served to inflame their vile passions. ‘This nest of horrors was the pest of Cour; and mine host was the prince of these demons; and being a great friend of the worthy policeman, and as great an enemy to Bombyx (whom these worthies honored with the name of “ fistow’”’), he readily entered into his friend’s plan of revenging himself on us. There were, also, in immediate proximity to this “ pinte,” a number of Vieilles Baraques, in- habited by the friends and customers of R all equally respectable with himself. However, on the opposite side of the road to our house, was the cottage of an old farmer, to whom I have already alluded (Pére H.), and his Bernese do- mestic, la Catharina. Now, Bombyx and Pére H. were always on good terms, and many and frequent were the kindly offices that passed be- tween them. This old farmer was, at various times of the night, on the move to catch a glimpse over his premises, which had several times been robbed; and he would often make his tour well armed; and in case of need, would doubtless know how to make use of his arms. To use his own expression as nearly as may be, he would tell Bombyx—Ch’ai soufent caché moiméme terriére un arpre et ch'ar fu te bien troles te choses; and a bottle of old “‘rozzo” would put Bombyx in possession of these troles te choses. Besides this, Bombyx and Pére H., avec la Catherina et sa petite chivra, were really very good friends : and now to my story. One winter evening, about eight o'clock, when Bombyx was just going to supper (and luckily ‘‘ Pere H.” was doing the same thing), a violent ring at the bell was heard; and the Vau- dois servant, Francois (mentioned in a former number, when I gave an account of the grand Review), went out to the gate, accompanied by myself and my brother, as usual. We saw no- body in the shape of a human being; but a voice familiar to us all (which came from just round the corner), said,—that its possessor wished to speak a word to Frangois. Not suspecting any- thing, he went towards the party, and was imme- diately knocked down and violently beaten by several of these rascals. Of course, I imme- diately seized one of them; but was stabbed by another cowardly villain (straight down the left fore-lee) with a sharp but thin stiletto. This put me, for a little while, hors de combat. The cries of “aw secours,’ were at length heard; when Bombyx and his sons rushed down, well armed with double-barrelled pistols and guns. But the ‘wretches were off,—pursued, however, by Carlo, who luckily escaped unhurt. The monsters, no doubt, were too much occupied with their own safety to think of destroying him. The servant was brought in, and a medical friend instantly sent for. Upon recovering himself a little, he declared that he perfectly recognised two of his assailants. Most fortunately (as I have already said), Pere H. and “la Catharina’ were about going to supper; but seeing an unusual number ot people sauntering about under Bombyx’s back windows, Pére H. had the good tact to slip out of his cot- tage by the back-door, came down unperceived close under a wall, and there recognised the whole lot. He was accampanied also by his “Catharina,” who also knew most of them. ‘They saw one of them ring Bombyx’s bell; but, thinking it was only a foolish lark or a run-away ring, they re- turned in-doors. However, on hearing the row, ‘and cries of “aw secowrs,” they came out again instanter, just in time to see the rascals in the act of bolting. Upon this information, obtained from Pére H. and “la Catharina,” Bombyx went up the next morning to the Juge de Paix, and got a separate warrant against each individual; charging them _|| all, separately and collectively, with the injury done to myself, and the murderous assault on the servant. My friend, the Juge de Paix, however, happened to be just upon the eve of a new election, and wanted the votes of these Radicals. He therefore put off sending these warrants; hoping the election would be over, before he need offend the “gentlemen.” Bombyx remonstrated with him on his tardiness; but to no effect. He then went tothe British Ambassador; and the result was, that the warrants were issued the next morning ; and these gentry, who had made sure that nobody could have seen them, and that Fran- cois alone could recognise, and bear witness against them, were so astonished at finding every one of the actors in the plot named, that they were nearly petrified. It must be evident, then, that they were known; and equally evident that the consequences would be most serious, as they got scent of the fact of Bombyx having requested the British Ambas- sador to stir up the spirit of the Juge de Paix. They thought it better at once to cry Peccavi; and depute one of their party to come forward and confess the whole business, apologising and trust- 362 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. ing to Bombyx’s good-humor. Now as times go, Mr. Editor, Bombyx is not ill-tempered; but he could not maintain his position and make himself respected if he accepted a simple apology in this business. So, after a meeting with their spokes- man R - (the worthy “Pinte Proprietor,”) he declined having anything more to do in the matter, save through the medium of the Juge de Puiz, who must do his duty, letting justice in this case take its natural course. They had reckoned on their numbers and votes, and the votes of their friends. Bombyx relied upon the simple fact of the villainous assault upon his servant and myself, together with his two wit- nesses, and the pretty general admission of the rascals themselves. Finding it no go, and that Bombyx would have nothing to do with their apology, they became as furious as maniacs, and held their nightly meetings at the ‘“ Pinte,” where future operations were discussed and arranged. Bombyx also took the precaution of requesting Jean to sleep every night at his house. Somehow or other, Jean had got a kind of clue to another concoction of these worthies; and he determined to sift it. So one night he brought down with him a stanch friend, a certain Adolphe (you may judge what sort of a man that must be, on whom Jean could rely in case of accident); and slipping down to the lake with him, he made a complete detowr, and came to the very ‘“ Pinte” where these worthies were assembled,—he appa- rently arriving from the Geneva road. Seeing “‘mine host” at the door, he said to his com- pagnon, ‘ Allons! j'ai bien sovf.. Allons! prendre une botella!” R (knowing how Jean was with Bombyx), thought it would be a good opportunity to try and cajole him to speak to Bombyx, and to compromise matters ; so (not in the least suspecting Jean’s manceuvres) he began to talk them over; but find- ing his mistake, he denounced Jean, when one of his party showed a stiletto,—probably the very one with which J was wounded. Alphonse displayed the muzzles of a pair of fine pistols. Jean stroked his nose and showed the tip of his “‘ serpetta:” and grinningly went on, quietly discussing his bottle. We, however, at home, finding Jean very much later than he intended to be, and imagining the pos- sibility of an attack upon him by these cowardly ruffians, determined to sally forth. This we did imstanter. Bombyx provided himself with an “‘assomateur,” one blow from which would make the most violent man as peaceable as could be de- sired. The sons were furnished with some of Van- naud’s best bred little bull-dogs ; and Pere H—— was summoned pour monter la garde during our short absence. We soon came close to the “ Pinte,” and then loitered about. It was presently known that the reinforcement had arrived, and Jean and Adolphe appeared, followed by the rascals. We, however, got peaceably home, and this still increased their wrath. The day, however, was approaching for our appearance before the Juge de Paix, and R got absolutely wild: One evening, as Bombyx and his sons were returning from a day’s sport, at St. Sulpice, and passing before the “ Pinte,” R—— jumped into the middle of the road; and placing his arms a-kimbo, deliberately and coolly let forth such a volley of disgusting epithets, that I will not distort my mouth by attempting to repeat them; winding up his eloquent harangue by styling Bombyx a vieux gueux. Bombyx was just going to reply to this, by knocking the rep- tile on the head ; but Jean intervened, and whis- pered to Bombyx,—He has quite done for himself! Leave him alone,—he is now quite in your power, and you can rid the neighborhood of this pest. We walked home withont replying one syllable; contenting ourselves with making a second com- plaint against this worthy. At last,—the day for meeting before the Juge de Paix arrived. Such fun! But I must reserve this sport for my next. Adieu! Au revoir. Your faithful old dog, Tottenham, Dec. 15. P.S.—My best love to that unfortunate little Charlie. How could he be so silly as to let those rascals slip the chain from his collar ? Bless my old master! He never put a collar round my neck. No: I all my life long have been as free as air. I could trace the old boy’s footsteps any where. I should just like to see one of those wretches, who stole poor Charlie from his mistress, try a similar trick with me; or dare to take Old Bombyx’s stick out of my mouth,—if I wa#*com- missioned to carry it, that’s all! I warrant you he would either go away minus some of his fingers ; or he would bear the impress of “ Fino— hismark,” for the remainder of his days. Charlie does not yet half know the world. I will take Fro. him out with me some day, and sharpen him up. LINES IN PRAISE OF “ BEAUTY.” She sits enthroned the stars among, She danceth in the moonlight beam ; She trips the waving fields along, And glideth o’er the silver stream. She sparkleth in the ocean spray, And shineth in the morning ray! She gives the Heavens their azure hue, The clouds their gold and crimson dyes ; She beams in every drop of dew, And throws her rainbow o’er the skies. On mount, wood, valley, river,—all, Her smiles of bright enchantment fall! Hers are the blossomings of Spring, And hers the golden autumn fruit ; ’ We see her on the insect’s wing, And trace her in the tenderest shoot. She fires the thought, she thrills the soul, And binds the heart with sweet control ! She sporteth ’mid the Arctic snows, And buildeth there her crystal towers ; She roameth where the Indus flows, And scattereth there her saffron flowers. She showers her gifts o’er dale and hill, On ocean, isle, and mountain rill! Deep, deep in subterranean cave She sleeps, unseen by mortal eye; Beneath, the blue, transparent wave— Above, the bright, unclouded sky ; In olive groves and sapphire cells— In sea, sky, earth, and Heaven she dwells ! From Hogg’s Instructor, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A DOG.—No. V. BY ONE OF THAT SUFFERING RACE. (Continued from Page 299.) And pressed her hand—that lingering press Of hands, that for the last time sever ; Of hearts, whose pulse of happiness, When that hold breaks, is dead for ever. Tom Moor. OUR FRIEND, ‘ FINO” (like yourself, my dear Mr. Editor), seems to be a jolly fellow. Like some few of the human race, he has been born for, and to pleasure, while my lot has been cast on a perfect sea of troubles,—where, when I had weathered the storm myself, I was compelled to witness others in distress. The Major called inthe morning; and I, as usual, ran by the side of “ Neptune,” to welcome him as he entered the room. But how different was our reception! How altered was the man! No word for either. His heart was full. He put his hand on ‘‘ Neptune’s” head, and tried to smile on me. But I could see that some great grief op- pressed him, and I ran to Miss Emily, thinking she was the most likely person to explain the cause. Looking in her face, and in those of my master and mistress, I read the same wonder exhibited as to what could have caused the light-hearted, high-spirited Major to be so depressed—so pensive. We had not long to wait for a solution of this apparent mystery. After silently shaking hands with Mr. and Mrs. Vandelour, and while in the act of doing so with Miss Emily, he dropped upon his knee ; and kissing that fair hand a thousand times in rapid suc- cession, he told her that he had received commands to join his regiment on receipt; and that he was ordered to sail in three days from that date, for service in India. Now, although present on most of these occasions, I am not going to tell you all the loving converse, protestations of eternal fidelity, &c., &c., that took place between my dear young mistress and the Major, before \parting. Nor how he scorned the idea when suggested to him, as a common occurrence with gentlemen under such circumstances, of exchanging his commission. The answer he made to Captain Decimal, when he suggested this idea to him, was worthy of a Wellington. Holding up his left hand, he read the inscription on a signet ring he wore—“ swaviter in modo, et fortiter in re.” This, he said, looking the captain full in the face, being literally translated, meant “a soldier and a gentleman;” and he considered the man who had too much of either, was unworthy a commission in Her Majesty’s service. Mr. Vandelour complimented him on the nobleness of his nature; and | am sure, from the sweet pensive smile, and bright, flashing eye of Miss Emily, that he did not suffer in her estimation. The same day a brother officer read a communication he had received from the Horse Guards, to this effect: ‘‘ Field-Marshal the Duke of Wellington’s compliments to Captain , and he must either sell or sail.” That evening the Major joined his regiment at Portsmouth ; and a dull evening it was at our house. Weallmissedhim. ‘“ Neptune” lay by the side of the room door, as though expecting him; and would not quit his post, even for the tempting morsel offered him from the dinner-table. Miss Emily opened the piano, ran over an air or two, and tried to sing. But he was not there to sing to. The harp was indeed unstrung! Had you, my dear Mr. Editor, known her, methinks that some of your remarks (as read to me by my doctor from Our JOURNAL), touching the want of affection, would have been more tempered; and you would have been com- pelled to admit that the love of an English- woman can be as warm, aud as sincere as that of any nation under Heaven’s canopy, be it Spanish or Italian. [Oh, yes, CHARLIE. Some Englishwomen have a heart—a very tender, loving heart. We cut at the “ fools- cap outsides,’—not at the feelings within, of the choice few. ] | In the morning we went out for awalk. I ran and barked; then I jumped up to Miss Emily’s hand, for her to throw a stone for me to run after. But she was dull, and did not even noticeme. ‘ Neptune,”’ too, on all former occasions, was scarcely out of the door before the whole parade rang with his joyous “Bow! wow! wow!” To-day, he walked out just like one of those men that I have seen striding along by the side of a mourning- coach, with a long stick in his hand; and all my attempts to get him to play with me were useless. I bit his legs, jumped up at his nose, pulled at his tail, (which hung down between his legs); but all to no purpose. He walked on, in what I thought was sullen silence. I knew not what dangers an otficer encounters when on active service. But ‘“‘Nep’”’ had been in the mess-room scores of times, when his master’s brothers-in-arms had recounted the privations, fatigue, and hair-breadth ’scapes they had experienced in the Peninsular war;—and therefore he was sad. Our party, of course, met several friends during the walk, one of whom had with her a little acquaintance of mine. Glad of the opportunity to find some one alive, and fond of a bit of fun, he and I had a famous scamper after one another. On resuming our walk, ‘ Neptune’? was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, no one knew whither. The same course was adopted as was used to find me when I was lost. But even the 364 ? “general dealer” could not restore ‘“ Nep- tune.” He suggested that some of the Lon- don hands had been down, and that he had been sentto Town. The Electric Telegraph and “the Times” were set to work; but no news of poor “ Nep.’—until the third day, when Mr. Vandelour received a letter from town, stating that a dog with a piece of rope round his neck, answering the description given in “the Times,” had that day walked into the “ Senior United Service Club,’ in Piccadilly, where he now was, howling, and rushing at every gentleman that came in,— refusing to be turned out, in a most convinc- ing manner, peculiar to the canine race; and after looking well at, and sniffing their clothes, he then laid sulkily down before the fire. How he got there was for some time a puzzle to everybody, or where he had been during the three days; but on his being sent back to Brighton, according to Mr. Vande- lour’s orders, he was recognised by the engi- neer of the train, at the station, who, on learning to whom he belonged, called at our house, and stated that on Tuesday morning, as the train was about to start for London, a Newfoundland dog was noticed running about the platform as if in search of his owner, whom failing to find, he tried to gain admis- sion into several carriages, but the guard would not allow him. He then came to the engine, and fancying his master was in the train, | allowed him, said the engineer, to go to town with me, expecting some gentleman would own him on our arrival. But as no one inquired for him, I took him home with me, and a hard job I had to get him along. He pulled and fought witha giant’s strength. I offered him food; he would not touch it, but lay howling all night, so that I could not sleep. On Thursday I saw your advertise- ment in the Times, and went home, intending to take him down with me, but found no dog. He had gnawed the rope, jumped over our yard wall, and was off. Nor did I ever see him again until yesterday, when I recognised him on the platform, with your address on a ticket round his neck. He knew me, and seemed pleased to see me. I was on duty, or would then have gone with him to your house ; and fearing lest you might attribute a wrong motive if you heard of his going to town with me, I have taken the first oppor- tunity of calling to explain, and hope you will excuse me if I have caused you any anxiety. Iam fond of dogs, and could not help feeling for one in such evident distress. The delight was great in our establishment, when Neptune, the keepsake of the noble Major, was returned safe; but a gloom was spread over all, when it was discovered that he could not be prevailed upon to touch food of any kind. KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. Every time we went out, | from the horizon. Neptune made off, as quick as his legs would carry him, to the Railway Station. Thus things went on for about ene week, every one trying to induce ‘‘Nep,” to eat; but all to no purpose. He was ever on the watch by the door—either expecting, or waiting an op- portunity to get out on the search for his late master. Of course he could not live if he would not eat; and he began to look like a perfect skeleton covered with hair. It was therefore decided to go to town for professional advice, and Dr.. KENT was again sent for to our house. Adieu, for the present. Yours, as ever, CHARLIE. December 14th, 1853. THE LIGHT OF THE STARS. THE LIGHT OF THE STARS is not uniform. The ray of Sirius, for instance, differs not merely in intensity, but in kind from the ray of Vega; and in countries where the atmos- phere is less humid and hazy than ours, the difference is striking to the naked eye—one star shining as an emerald, another as a ruby, and the whole Heavens sparkling as with various gems. The attribute of variety of color also characterises the double stars; but the most remarkable thing is that, in many instances, where one star is of one marked color, its companion is of the opposite. Instances abound in which a red and a green star are associated, or a yellow and blue. When the stars are of different degrees of brilliancy, this contrast may originate in an optical delusion—in that tendency which disposes the eye, when gazing on any bright color, to endow fainter objects near it with the oppo- site, or complimentary color, by way of relief. But the explanation is not universally borne out; imasmuch as many couples, in precisely similar circumstances, show no such contrasts. Sir John Herschell was at first decidedly inclined to attribute the phenomenon to an actual difference of color; and although he has since, perhaps on good grounds, half relinquished that conclusion, we have the acquiescing testimony of Struve, whose clearness has never yet been rivalled—so that we may not absolutely part with the early, pleasing speculations of the British astronomer. It may more easily be sug- gested in words (says Sir John), than con- ceived in imagination, what variety of illumination two stars—a red and a green, or a yellow and a blue one, must afford a planet circulating around either ; and what cheering contrasts, and graceful vicissitudes, (a red and a green day, for instance, alternating with a white one, and with darkness,) might arise from the presence or absence, or both, KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 365 STANZAS OCCASIONED BY THE VISIT OF AN OLD FRIEND. BY A. SMITH. Pledge me a health, my ‘‘ leal old friend,”’ And drink to other days; Our friendship is no summer flower That speedily decays. Then fill, fill up the sparkling glass, Raise to thy lips once more; And gaily let the moments pass As aye they pass’d of yore. Give me a hand, old friend and true, My own may warmly clasp; A long-lost feeling to renew In friendship’s fervent grasp. Full seven long years have glided by Since we were friends together ; Yet all unchang’d art thou and I, Whate’er the wind or weather. From friendship’s list drops many a name Each swiftly circling year; A few have pass’d the “‘ silent bourne,” — We miss their faces here ; Whilst some, and happier be their lot, Have cross’d the deep, blue sea; And some, perhaps, have half forgot My quondam friend and me. But ne’er thee mind, my ‘‘leal old friend,” But “ gie’s a hand of thine;”’ And from thine inmost heart repeat This wish, this hope of mine : Whate’er our future lot may be, Tho’ distant, long and far,— We ne’er may prove, such friends as we, Less friendly than we are! THE STUDY OF ZOOLOGY. AT ONE TIME we see before us, extracted from a solid mass of rock, a model of the softest, most delicate, and least easily preserved parts of animal structure. At another time, the actual bones, teeth, and scales, scarcely altered from their con- dition in the living animal. The very skin, the eye, the footprints of the creature in the mud, and the food that it was digesting at the time of its death, together with those portions that had been separated by the digestive organs as containing no further nutriment—all are as clearly exhibited as if death had within a few hours performed its com- mission, and all had been instantly prepared for our investigation. We find the remains of fish so perfect that not one bone, not one scale, is out of place or wanting; and others, in the same bed, presenting the outline of a skeleton, or various disjointed fragments. We have insects, the deli- cate nervures of whose wings are permanently im- pressed upon the stone in which they are embedded; and we see occasionally shells, not merely retaining their shape, but perpetuating their very colors—the most fleeting, one would think, of all characteristics ; and offering evidence of the brilliancy and beauty of creation at a time when man was not yet an inhabitant of the earth, and there seemed no one to appreciate beauties which we are perhaps too apt to think were called into existence for our admiration. FOOD FOR THOUGHT. OUR MORAL NATURE. THouGH ouR Mora NATURE possesses no restorative principle in itself, yet the deli- cate susceptibilities which distinguish the earlier periods of our experience plainly in- dicate our original fitness for higher ends than the scenes of this world afford us. The better feelings of childhood and youth lose their bloom and loveliness by the necessary associations of maturer years. Earth is not a fit place to train us in per- fect keeping with our capacity of enjoy- ment. ‘The functional and criminal are too nearly connected, in consequence of here- ditary corruption. We feel, as we advance in life, that neither our positions nor our pursuits are quite compatible with freedom of spirit; since we are obliged to calculate on consequences, instead of obeying impulses— simply because we are not pure. Who desires not to regain the acute and delightful sensibilities of opening existence, when the passions, harmonising together, awoke responsively to every touch of tender- ness andlove? The past, however, returns not with a wish; but yet, all that was good in it shall return to be lost no more. The finer spirits (to use a figure) have indeed evaporated in the more heated atmosphere of manhood. Nevertheless, there is pro- bably in the heart of every human being a portion of created excellence, which can never wholly waste away; there is always some germinal atom—some pure element— —some light within us—which has a natural affinity for all that is lovely and truthful, both as regards affection and intellect ; which, in a proper atmosphere, would expand into glory by commerce with the skies. But the selfishness which, like a petrifac- tion, or rather iciness, hardens about our hearts while engaged in worldly pursuits, cannot be broken or melted off but by some violence to our habits. It is necessary for us to be brought into the helplessness of childhood, to feel again a child-like spirit. The spring of health which, bounding from our eager bosoms, sustained our more selfish passions in their vigor, must be diminished in its gushings. Disease must reduce us to the extremity of weakness, ere the acquired wilfulness of our wayward souls quite yields attention to the still-small voice that whispers the remembrance of a mother’s loving care, or a father’s earnest prayers; and thus brings back upon our memories the thousand lovely visions that haunted the heart of our child- hood. It is in this way, if ever, that we get a re- trospective glance at the love of Him that originated our being, and again invites us to 366 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. his bosom, saying—‘ Suffer little children to come unto me.’ G. M. [The foregoing requires to be read—not once, but often. We direct special atten- tion to it.| FOND HEARTS,—LISTEN! [We cannot forbear introducing, at this particular season of the year (when people meet together to cement the bond of Love and Friendship), the following exqui- site Lines from ‘‘ Lalla Rookh.” ‘There is ‘‘a voice’’ in them, to which it behoves anu of us to listen; and, it must be remembered, ‘‘ we are never too old to learn.’’ | Aas !—how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love ! Hearts that the world in vain has tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When Heaven was all tranquillity! A something light as air—a look, A word unkind or wrongly taken— O! love that tempests never shook, A breath, a touch like this has shaken— And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin ; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship’s smiling day ; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said ; Till fast declining, one by one, The sweetnesses of love are gone, And hearts, so lately mingled, seem Like broken clouds—or like the stream That smiling left the mountain’s brow,” As though its waters ne’er could sever; Yet, ere it reach the plain below, Breaks into floods that part for ever ! O, you that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound ; As in the fields of bliss above He sits, with flow’rets fetter’d round :— Loose not a tie that round him clings, Nor ever let him use his wings; For even an hour, a minute’s flight, Will rob the plumes of half their light ; Like that celestial bird, whose nest Is found below far Eastern skies,— Whose wings, though radiant when at rest, Lose all their glory when he flies! Some difference of this dangerous kind,— By which, though light, the links that bind The fondest hearts may soon be riven ; Some shadow in Love’s summer Heaven, Which, though a fleecy speck at first, May yet in awful thunder burst. LIFE AND DEATH. Hast thou seen, with flash incessant, Bubbles gliding under ice— Bodied forth and evanescent, No one knows by what device ? Such are Thoughts! A wind-swept meadow Mimicking a troubled sea. Such is Life; and Death a shadow From the rock Errrnrry ! W. SHOULD A WIFE “ASK” FOR MONEY? AN ADDRESS TO BENEDICTS. Listen to me! Do you remember when you were sick? Who tip-toed round your room, arranging the shutters and curtain-folds, with an instinctive knowledge of light, to a ray, that your tortured bead could bear? Who turned your pillow on the cool side, and parted the thick matted locks from your hot temples? Who moved glasses and spoons and phials without collision or jingle? Who looked at you with a compassionate smile, when you persisted you “wouldn’t take your medicine because it tasted so nasty ;” and kept a sober face, when you lay chafing there, like a caged lion, calling for cigars and newspapers, and whisky-punch ? Who migrated, unceasingly and uncomplain- ingly, from the big baby before her to the little baby in the cradle, without sleep, food, or rest ? Who tempted your convalescent appetite with some rare dainty of her own making, and got fretted at because there was “not sugar enough in it ?” Who was omnipresent in chamber, kitchen, parlor, and nursery—keeping the domestic wheels in motion that there should be no jar in the machinery ? Who oiled the creaking door that set’ your quivering nerves in a twitter? Who ordered tan to be strewn before the house, that your slumbers might be unbroken by noisy carriage-wheels ? Who never spoke of weary feet or shooting pains in the side or chest, as she toiled up and down stairs to satisfy imaginary wants, that “ nobody but wife” could attend to? And who, when you got well and moved about the house just as good as new, choked down the tears, as you poised on your forefinger the half-sovereign she asked you for, while you inquired—“ how she spent the last one?” “‘Give her what money she asks for!” Fie! We hardly need say that ‘ Fanny Fern” is. the perpetrator of the foregoing. And is there not ‘‘ something in it” that speaks to many of Us, in England, as well as to our American brethren? “ Aye, marry is there.” Who but a wife,—a fond, devoted, never-tiring woman, would do what 1s done for a grumbling, impatient husband, every day in the year? Of a truth, man is at best but a selfish savage ! A SONG TO MY “DOVE.” My lady pluck’d a blooming rose, To plant upon her lily breast ; It softly closed its crimson leaves, And fondly kiss’d its snowy nest. The silken leaves were gently stirr’d As her soft heaving bosom shook; Like the white plumage of a dove That coos beside some breezy brook. Oh! had J been that waving rose Which on her angel bosom blush’d, And revell’d ’mid those heaving sighs Whose lovely music none hath hush’d ! — Lived on the pantings of her heart, And caught her eye in tranquil rest,— Then, like that crimson-waving rose, I should have been for ever blest ! Q. KIDD'S SONG,—THE FAIRY-KING. Who says the gentle elfin race Hath vanished like the wind, Nor left a single verdant trace, Or flow’ry track behind ? Who dares to say the meads no more With fairy gems are pearl’d ? What treason to the conqueror Who rules our inner world! In Fairyland’s most honied spring He dips his sceptre dart : Love is the only Fairy-king, The Oberon of the heart! The little love-god, first of sprites, Wears on his sunny brow A crown of hopes and soft delights, And smiles of rosy glow. His elves, gay sprites, their master meet With airy dance, and spread Sweet blossoms at his sovereign feet ; And ever ’neath his tread, All round the emerald fairy ring, Its freshness doth impart. Blest foot-print of our bosom king, Our Oberon of the heart! His fairy-favors ‘ kisses ”’ are, His throne’s a throne of hearts ; His natural magic mightier far Than sorcery’s mightiest arts. His signal flag a blush ; his wand Of power, the lightest touch Of fondness from the loved one’s hand— What wand can charm so much ? Oh! ere thou from our sphere take wing, May life itself depart,— Love, witching Love! thou Fairy-king, Thou Oberon of the heart! ONE WORD MORE ABOUT ADVERTISING. “Penny-wise and Pound-foolish,” is an old saying; but it is quite as applicable in these days as it was in days of yore.—Sir WALTER ScorT. WE ARE NOT AT ALL SURPRISED that our recent article on the Art or ApbvertisinG (see the November Number of Our Journat, page 222) should have excited so much attention. It is natural that it should have done so; for we went so thoroughly into details, and proved so very many startling facts, that the subject was one of more than common interest. It is high time that people should “ think”—and “ act” for them- selves. We have received a great many communications during the past month, highly approving our view of the general question,—most of the writers acknowledging that, as our Periodical is the ony existing work of its class, circulating largely among families, and as popular abroad as at home —we have a right to maintain its unusual claims to public favor. There are some few persons, however, who cannot clearly understand “why” we should make a charge of 5s. for an advertisement of eight lines, when a daily newspaper, or broadsheet, OWN JOURNAL. 367 A daily, or weekly newspaper, has ample space to insert as many advertisements as they may receive. Their columns must be occupied,—there- fore it matters not how. In no case is the cost of paper and printing increased,—let the adyertise- ments be never so numerous. With us, it is different. Our space is limited, —very. In our advertisement pages, the cost of paper and printing is entirely extra. 'This causes us to charge a trifle—a mere trifle—more than a daily newspaper (the WEEKLY newspapers are all far above us in their scale of prices),—but then, only consider the great additional advantages offered! There are certain families we wot of, who never bind up their sets,—preferring to let the numbers lie upon the table the year round, by way of ornament. This is “ something.” In the case of Newspapers, the miscellaneous advertisements are jumbled together in one mass of endless confusion. Moreover, a respectable person travels in the oddest company possible. Quack medicines are above him,—below him ; under-garments, 100, hem him in,—wedded to the queerest of queer names, and some of them really unpronounceable. Awful Sacrifices terrify him. Then there are many Lamentable Cases of Desti- tution ; Frigi Domo’s; Ulcerated Sore Throats ; Infants’ Pap-boats ; Aqua-Scutum(!) Regimentals ; Ready-made Baby Linen; Sans-pli(!) over and under-alls ; ‘‘No more Physic required ;” “ Cau- tions,’ &c.—These, and a host of other scrubby, scaly neighbors, rub against the side of every respectable man with a decent coat, who seeks publicity in the columns of a newspaper. Now, we ask any sensible person,—whether, among the multitudinous announcements we speak of, there is any fair chance of his advertisement being extensively read and dwelt upon? That the public eye may glance over it, we admit; but this, only for an instant. “There is too much to distract attention for any good result to be reasonably looked for. Last—not least, all newspapers are i1egarded as waste paper after their contents have been perused. They are either torn or burnt. By advertising in Our Journat (which circu- lates all over the world, and is found throughout the entire year in club-houses,—reading rooms,— on the family table, and in most places of public resort)—all these drawbacks are annihilated. The very nature and plan of the work secure its popu- larity; whilst as a work of reference (if on matters of Natural History only) it is in constant use. Thus are: advertisers enabled to keep their announce- ments continually (and profitably) before the public. Our columns already afford pleasing evidence that our recent remarks have carried weight with them; and it is gratifying to hear our friends acknowledge that justice is on our side. Extreme cheapness, we contend, is not always ' the grand point to be attained. If fair advantages be offered, a fair consideration should be given for them. We may not convince ‘the million” of the goodness of our argument. They love every- thing ‘“‘ cheap,”’—even if it falls to pieces as soon as they become possessed of it; but all people of charges only 3s. foran announcement of six lines. | judgment will say that our view is the correct one. Let us briefly—but satisfactorily, explain this. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. Be a ee NATURE AND ART. A GENTLE HINT TO THE FAIR SEX. Lovety indeed the mimic works of ArT,— But Nature’s works far lovelier.—CowPerR. THE fact of OuR JOURNAL being the only existing periodical devoted to the domestic, and other subjects we so love to discuss,— naturally brings us into intimate connection with those who think as we think; and who live (as we live) for the benefit of others. as well as themselves,—the only thing, surely, worth living for. To assist all who thus have the welfare of society at heart, is our fondest delight ; and our columns shall ever be open to give currency to their experiments, of whatever kind, made for the benefit of their fellow- creatures. We beg, to-day, to call public attention to the efforts—the most successful efforts made by Madame Cap.iin, of Berners-street, to give ease and elegance to the female figure ; at the same time studying and securing the health of those who trust themselves to her care. Wedo not speak ignorantly on this matter. We have waited personally on Madame CAPLIN—examined with great care everything she has invented to carry out her grand object—and satisfied ourself that she has conferred on society obligations for which they can never be too grateful. Those who understand the delicate struc- lure of the female frame, must be aware that, habited as women have been to the present time, to be well or healthy was émpossible. They would have a beautiful figure, a small waist, handsome (deformed!) symmetrical proportions, &c. &c. All this at a sacrifice of their own health (how often, too, of life!) ; and, in most cases, of deformity to their offspring. Aware of this, and with a feeling of hu- manity that does her infinite honor, Madame CaPLIN has studied carefully, for many years, the anatomy of the body. This enables her to know precisely how to adapt her cor- sets and bodices to the human figure. She makes nothing at random; but adapts, in every case, what is worn on the body to the person who is to wear it. This knowledge of anatomy places her at the very top of her profession, for she can give ease and elegance united. How we could enlarge upon this, did space permit ! The conversation we had with Madame CAPLIN was truly instructive. It was posi- tively delightful to hear her explain her principles of action; nor did she scruple to give much of her valuable time to us whilst asking the most minute—though, be it said, not impertinent— questions. She showed us how needful it was, even in childhood,* to study nature; and to dress children properly. She exemplified this by a number of apposite illustrations ; and convinced us how thoroughly she under- stands “ first principles.” She then proceeded to another stage of life,—another—and an- other. In every one of these, nature re- quires some alteration of adaptation. This was most prettily explained to us; and we listened to the lecture, throughout, with feel- ings of admiration. We must on no account omit delicately to hint at the bodices, &c., made to suit ladies during the period of gestation, It is not need- ful for us to explain how these are adapted to the ends desired; but they evidence the most consummate skill, and a thorough un- derstanding, on the part of the very ingenious inventor, of what Nature requires,—what nature must have. There now only remains for us to com- ment on the extreme delicacy and neatness of the workmanship. Every article sub- mitted to us was of first-rate excellence ; and when we left Madame CaPLin (of whom, till this interview, we are ashamed to say we knew nothing), it was under the impression that she was a true philanthropist. That the Medical Profession approve the invention, is ‘‘something.” That a Grand Medal at the “ Exhibition of all Nations” was awarded Madame CAPLIN, is ‘“ some- thing.” That she has a very large connec- tion, is—‘“ something.’” But we go beyond all this. "We have seen and proved the value of the invention; and this enables us to speak of it in terms of unqualified praise. Let our women now show their good sense. It rests entirely with themselves whether they will be elegant and healthy ; and as for their children, yet unborn, it is quite in their power to make THEM elegant and healthy also. Let them think of this. * All of us who bave the honor to be parents, know but too well what tricks some children have of attitudinising — standing on one leg, elevating one shoulder above the other, &c., to the distress of sundry parts of their body that ought not to be thus unduly oppressed. To meet these abits, Madame C. has provided “a Monitor.” This, when worn, quite corrects the evil._—Ep. K. J FULL PURSES AND HARD HEARTS. Moyey Is coop. It is the inordinate love of it (far too general) that hardens the heart. Rich people who are covetous, are like the cypress tree,—they may ‘ look” well, albeit they are fruitless. y oe men bear in mind that they are only trustees for at they possess; and that they must ‘‘render an account of their actions’? hereafter. Those who give nothing till they die, show that they would not then,—if they could keep it any longer.—BisHop HALL. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 369 A FAMILY CHAPTER. THE ISLAND OF PLUM-PUDDING. BY THE AUTHOR OF “fA CHRISTMAS DISASTER.” NCE upon A TIME—very long before apple-sauce had ever been eaten with goose, the good King of the Christmas Islands had occasion to des- patch to the farthest of the isles over which he reigned, a great ship, in quest of provisions for an ap- proaching festival. It will be remembered by the historical student, that each of this groupe of isles produced in abundance some one necessary of life for the Christmas King and his frolicsome subjects. One isle was famous for its ribs and sirloins, another yielded misseltoe, a third gave a splendid crop of mince-meat, nut-brown-ale flowed in a fourth, huge log-fires were imported from a fifth, and citron, sugar, turkeys, plums, with countless condiments, luxuries and delicacies, took root and flourished,—each in its separate soil. Before we start on the voyage, it must be borne in mind that the great arts of civili- sation were, in those days, unknown in the Christmas Islands. King and people enjoyed every product of the earth; but they were savages—in their infancy—raw. Cookery with them was no code of laws; each gour- mand followed his own tastes, and dined in riotous freedom. It was a table-land of liberty. Thus, they ate mustard with their mince-pies, poured brandy over the roast- beef, took sugar and spices with their horse- radish; and steeped sausages, stuffed with plums, in old ale. Of the wonder now known to civilised man as “plum-pudding,” they had not an idea! The King himself, who revelled in perpetual luxuries, never dreamed of such an invention ! Scattered everywhere profusely were the materials ; and happily enough men munched their citron, crammed their mouths with citron, and with rasins of a fig-like size; biting nutmegs at intervals. They had flour also in pecks ; and although it was dry eating, they knew that health rendered a few spoons- ful as an accompaniment to the fruit and spice absolutely essential. It was difficult to get down; but milk helped them, and brandy greatly lessened the inconvenience. When they had enjoyed to repletion the endless variety of luscious materials (with a mouthful or two of fine dry flour as described), they stuck a slip of holly in their mouths. It was a custom. But of “ plum-pudding’’ they had never heard; nor could so grand a result of many combinations of intellect be possibly imagined by a people who boiled turkeys in tea, ate spinach with hot elder- wine, and apple-sauce with salmon. Won. F¥.—24. But it was now high time for the great Captain Spoon— such was the name of the King’s prime minister in those times—to set sail upon his voyage among the Christmas Islands, for the gathering in of supplies. ‘Set sail’? is not the word, for his vessel was an enormous steamer (this was in the era of the jirst'‘discovery of steam), with a boiler of Vesuvian proportions. He flew rapidly past several narrow shores, such as the Roasted Chesnut Isle, and many others, intending to touch at these on his return ; and repaired to the Raisin Isle, the Currant Isle, the Citron and Spice Isles, and at the Islands of Milk and Eggs. Thence he sailed for the Isle of Suet, and afterwards landed at Flour Island. Of all these ingredients, and some others, he took on board a noble Christmas stock, and then steered direct for the famous Isle of Brandy. He touched also at Holly Mount. The steamer had now a magnificent freight, and fast through the deep she flies; Captain Spoon, a stirring character, anticipating for his services the honor of being made a Knight Grand Sprig of the Misseltoe, by the King of the Christ- mas Islands. But presently a startling change came over the sea, and also over Captain Spoon. On the steamer sped; but through waves rougher than the nutmeg-grater of the gods—whiter than frosted sugar, fiercer than turkeys mad for the honor, the rapture of the spit. Some supernatural Captain Spoon was stirring up the elements. Now the paddles touch not the water ; the wheels indeed turn into wings; the smoke forms a canopy that covers the whole visible world ; the vessel flies through the air ;—no, through the steam—all, all, is steam. Onward she moves with incredible velocity, more and more gathers and condenses the steam, more pale grows Captain Spoon, and more in peril that rich and precious freight, without which the Christmas festival will be naught ; the substitute for it being the execution of a self-appointed Knight Grand Sprig, sentenced to have ten thousand pounds’ weight of sausages suspended round his neck, and to be drowned in the Great Wassail-bowl, filled with skim-milk, for his monarch’s diversion ! In an instant there came a terrific whirl- wind, that plumped the steamer down again into the sea, deep, deep into it—nay, under it: and under the waves the ship still drove on. Captain Spoon is soaked to the heart! Had he been pewter, he would have been wet through in that foaming surge. What is worse, the cargo is destroyed! those choice ingredients—spice, eggs, milk, plums, sugar, brandy,—all saturated, all commingled, all mixed up, all spoiled ! But now the Captain ean think only of himself; for the water, through the depths of BB 370 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. which the vessel holds its course, is becoming strangely warm. Surely it begins to simmer ! It looks and smells not like salt water—but it grows decidedly hot. Forty-six thousand knots a minute is the rate of progress; and in another quarter of an hour it is scalding work. Then the sea boils! Tremendous and unfathomable aqueous masses roll up and fali, and rise again, bursting in joint-stock bubbles. Captain Spoon and his freight are down a million of miles in a boiling Pacific. He is cooked; and his cargo is a mash, a mixture—a mere pudding! Worse was behind; and it came in the form of a convulsion that seemed to blow the steamer out of the world, and himself out of the steamer. Now lay he floating many a rood in the boiling water, done toa bubble ; till helpless, lost, and nigh to the condition called in cplinary language “rags,’’ he cast about his boiled arms in despair, and touched a kind of land. Land! —Yes, some odd shore soon rose above the surface, and offered substance to his feet, as, dashed by the hot waves against its slippery side, he strove to climb it. The hapless voyager among the Christmas Islands was now washed upwards, and lay insensible on the high shore... . Spoon did not know the day of the month when he awoke; but he looked about him nevertheless. He was out of the hot- bath, but reduced to “rags; a reward not common to prime ministers, though heroic explorers may often have experienced it. But the land, the country! Well: there it lay before him, flat enough. It was a large barren Island —unpeopled of course, for it was unproductive. There was nothing on it, living or dead—no verdure on its brown speckled sides, no ruggedness of surface. Everywhere it was quite smooth, and in- clining to rotundity ; everywhere alike. It seemed indeed less an island than a planet— a huge, round, lifeless world—still hot and steaming, as if flung up from the boiling depths below. ‘fo say that nothing was found on it is incorrect. As Captain Spoon reached the exact centre, he saw sticking up in it alarge sprig of hoily ; and he identified this as part of the prodigious bunch he had brought from Holly-mount. It must have been washed on shore; and he accepted it as an omen that he should one day return to be a Knight Grand Sprig! Exhausted, he. dropt upon the ground under the red berries, and again slept. The earth was still warm—and there was an odd exhalation rising from it. He woke up ravenously hungry. What distress! what misery! There was nothing but the clay under his feet to devour. Clay it was wherever he went, but curiously and thickly speckled all over with deeper richer hues, which half shone through the dullish brown surface. Here was a Christmas time! To be alone with famine on that desolate globe ! He flung himself on the ground, and des- perately tore up the very earth with his fingers. His nails, as he clawed, brought away particles of that strange hot soil, which in these places gave forth a peculiar ex- halation indeed! He must die or feed; and he at length in his anguish and despair began (horrible!) to eat the very earth! Yea, with his burnt fingers he scratched up pieces, and hurried them eagerly to his mouth. And his teeth had an easy task, but the burning clay was hot to his lips; however, he drew a long breath, and swallowed it. And his eyes sparkled with rapturous ex- citement, as he now looked down and stooped to pick out the speckled parts, and to dig up rich mysterious little pieces that were surpassingly delicious to the taste ; and then, too hungry for these exclusive deli- cacies, broke off larger bits of the ground, and fed with ecstasy.— He had discovered Plum- pudding ! He now stuck the slip of holly more firmly in the soil, and took possession of the prize-globe in the name of the King of the Christmas Islands. The sea was soon calm and cool; when, floating towards him, Captain Spoon espied his sometime spifflicated steamer, into which he now sprang. Here, though his crew had all been boiled to an undiscoverable pulp, he found tools and implements, and speedily with spade and pickaxe he is at work on the rich shore. Huge lumps of earth are dug up—broad thick slices of the variegated soil—blocks of clay resembling in some degree the plum-pudding-stone of the natu- ralist ; and all are safely stored m the ship. Then, too happy in his discovery, away he steamed for the Christmas palace of the King! That monarch listened intently—with wonder and terror too, until the story told of the choice clay and nice bits of mud which his Captain had regaled himself with; where- upon he cried, ‘Give me, O Spoon of my soul, to partake of that strange earth, lest it be said I have a minister who eats dirt !” And the King ate!—fainting, after full three hours—not with repletion, but with pride, astonishment, and rapture. A fleet of steamers started—carrying out knives, hatchets, saws, spades, shovels; and every implement of a cutting, hewing, digging or scraping nature ; and to work the court went, with a royal laborer at their head. The good King did more than all his people: he contrived to eat more than two able hands could dig up. All dug and devoured ; no; some, too eager to dig or to cut, cast them down on their faces, and bit ~ what elsewhere is the dust ! KIDD’S. OWN JOURNAL. 871. Now there was joy throughout the Christ- mas Islands! And as in the pudding-planet there was enough and to spare for all genera- tions, the King bade his subjects feed, and instituted a small allotment system; and although the globe they fed on had its origin in hot water, its influence kneaded up all bosoms in content and peace. Moreover, the King summoned his favorite, Spoon, into his presence; and delivering unto him the sprig of holly, stuck in the new brown speckled world he had discovered, bade him keep the same as a token, and bequeath it to his children with ten thousand acres of plum-pudding—suffused with inexhaustible sauce and brandy of undying strength. And it is in that spirit that the sons of the first discoverer of plum-pudding drink, to this late day,—the “ Health of the Gocd King of the Christmas Islands !”’ ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE. Thoughts on the Odor of Flowers —The idea that perfumes of flowers, believed to be universally delightful, should offend certain perceptions, is often held up to ridicule and unbelief. But, my dear Sir, the following observations furnish evi- dence to correct this common error. They occur in Sir James Smith’s valuable Hlements. He describes himself as peculiarly affected by honey- suckles, which, however grateful in the open air, affected him in the house with violent pains in the temples—soon followed by sickness, and a par- tial loss of recollection. Yet the equally delicious and very similar fragrance of the butterfly orchis afforded him pleasfire in the closest apartment ! He could not perceive the scent of Jris Persica, though some find it extremely pleasant. Its flowers, nevertheless, affected him in a room almost to nausea and suffocation. The white lily, mezereon, lilac, and Peruvian heliotrope—with many other scents delightful in the open air, were poison in the house; and he had seen a strong healthy man greatly distressed by one carnation which had fallen down, and remained concealed by a piece of furniture, in a spacious airy drawin g- room. It may be asserted, I believe, as a general tule, that plants of the same genus, or natural order, produce, by the odor of their flowers, a similar effect upon the same person. But this effect often varies in degree, according to any person’s state of health. The blossoms of the Portugal laurel, when abundant, exhale, in Sir James’s opinion, a nauseous feetor, which, in some of the same tribe, as hawthorn, is not too strong to be agreeable, partaking of an almond flavor. Ina very different flower, Bolemonium Ceruleum, a similar odor, though generally not very remarkable, has proved, during illness, quite intolerable in aroom. Sir James concludes by observing, that roses are universally acceptable, and scarcely noxious to anybody. But, perhaps, the odors of the various kinds of Stapelia, imita- ting carrion, decayed cheese, and foul water, may be better suited to the taste of the Hottentots, in whose country those singular plants abound. A : eee botanist of Sir James’s acquaintance could per- ceive no scent in any flower whatever!—Honry- sucKLE, [enley, [The above has been sent us by a young lady, who, in a beautifully-written note (enclosing other amiable contributions, two of which only we have room to insert this month), says:—‘‘ What a happy man you ought to be, my dear Sir ; having so many charming correspondents conversing with you, month after month, under the names of Flowers,—eloquent, too, as fragrant! Do, | entreat you, take me also under your wing; and let me be associated among the ‘choice few’ of whom you so lovingly speak when: ‘numbering up your jewels.’ I would be known to the public simply as-—‘‘ Honeysuckle ;” my dwelling—Henley. To yourself, 1 of course make known who and what Tam. I propose beginning the New Year with you; and with all my heart (a tender one!) wish long life and prosperity to oUR NOBLE JOURNAL.” —Are we not a happy man? Oh, yes!] An“ open” Character is the best Gift of God. —The world is made up, my dear Sir, as you say, of “odd” materials. ‘ Men should be what they seem ;”’ but they are not so. Hence, the artificial state of society you so much deplore. Your axiom,—‘“ Be frank with the world,” is a good one. Frankness is the child of honesty and courage. Say just what you mean to do on every occasion (this is my doctrine); and take it for granted you mean to do what is right. Ifa friend ask a favor, you should grant it, if reasonable; but if it is not, tell bim plainly why you cannot. You will wrong him and wrong yourself by equivo- cation of any kind. Never do a wrong thing to make a friend, or keep one. The man who requires you to do it, is dearly purchased at a sacrifice. Deal kindly and firmly with all men. You will find it the policy that wears best. Above all, do not appear to others what you are not. Ifyou have any fault to find with any one, tell him (not others) of what you complain. There is no more dangerous experimené than that of undertaking to be one thing to a man’s face, and another behind his back. We should live, act, and speak out-of-doors, as the phrase is; and say and do what we are willing should be known and read by allmen. It is not only best as a mat- ter of principle, but as a matter of policy. A good character will make us always welcome, go where we may. And if we are known to be candid and honest, are we not “loved” for these qualities by the good and the noble? Surely yes !}—Honzy- sucKLE, Henley. [Well said! Honeysuckle. Are we not over- joyed to begin the New Year with a Flower diffusing such sweet odors? Judge us by your own honest heart.] The Mocking-Bird—I have a very tame mock- ing bird; nor is he less remarkable for his song, which is sweet indeed! I conclude you know all about the peculiarities of these birds. [Yes. They are most amiable little creatures, and are truly “wonderful,” in every sense of the word,—fit com- panions for man, woman, and child. Their intel- ligence and musical powers almost surpass belief.] He warbles for hours together, during the day ; also when the gas is lighted. [You do not act —— 372 Wisely, sir, in permitting your bird to be where gas is. His lungs can hardly be proof against its baneful influence.] Whilst I write (7 p.m.), he is pouring out a full tide of song. I never confine him to any particular food. I give him boiled egg, mashed potato [you should put no butter in it], apples, hedge fruits, preserves, fresh meat, insects, &c. Spiders he is particularly fond of. [All soft-billed birds rejoice in spiders; and they are the very best of food for them.) I let him come out on the table every morning. By this means, his wings get free play ; and he is alto- gether more lively. [Al birds that are tame and familiar should be allowed a daily flight,—“ pro- vided always” there be no cat in the house; and those who love birds never ought to admit a cat under the same roof withthem.] He is about the size of a thrush, and marked much like the wag- tail. The colors are somewhat lighter, but the tail is equally long, and in constant motion. When he commences his song, he has all the sprightly action of the robin. He only imitates birds,—not animals.—J. R., Hull. [You are fortunate indeed in having a mocking- bird who does not imitate animals generally. His value is thereby considerably enhanced. Their imitation of cats, owls, dogs, and the screaming of parrots, is by the multitude reckoned a mark of perfection. We readily confess that WE can see no beauty in such performances. Many things are ‘“ wonderful,” that are not “‘pleasing.”’] Notes on the Season,. &c., at Barnsley—The sudden coming together of autumn and winter towards the close of the month just elapsed, having been marked by peculiarities differing in this neighborhood from those recorded in some other places,—a brief recapitulation of the meteoro- logical phenomena of the last quarter may not be uninteresting to readers at a distance. In Sep- tember we had rain on 15 days, very heavy in some instances; that on the 12th amounting to 1 inch, the quantity of the whole month being 3} inches. In October there was rain on 26 days; that on the 5th amounting to 1 inch, and for the whole month to 5 inches. In November there was rain on 14 days; but up to the 24th the quan- tity was little more than half an inch. From the snow of that day, and the rain of the following morning, was produced nearly an inch, and the quantity for the whole month was 22 inches of rain. The greater part of the month was fine, the rich sunlight prevailing soon removed the effect of the transient showers; so that the fears justly felt, after the unfavorable time of harvesting the grain, that the getting into the ground of the seed corn would be equally unfavorable, were soon set at rest. The rigor with which winter set in on the night of the 21st was so great that, on the 22nd, the waters on the Fleets (a low tract often overflowed by the Dearne) were sheeted with so strong a coat of ice, that the healthy sport of skating was enjoyed thereon on the 22nd, 28rd, and 24th; as excellent skating as the oldest admirers of the art had ever experienced, and un- remembered by any so early in the season. The ice was from 12 to 2 inches thick on the 22nd, on which day our sport was enjoyed within a charmed circle, shut out by a thick tog from observation he would let us. KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. without. On the 24th the fog cleared up: the sun rose for a short time in a sky changing from crimson to orange and grey. But dense clouds soon gathered, and the cold thaw wind which had veered from N.to 8. by E. and S. E., brought first driving hail, succeeded by snow, covering the ground to the depth of 3 or 4 inches, which was ultimately followed by drenching rain. The thermometer, which had been 43° in the shade, on the 21st, during the strongest period of the frost, stood from 25° to 30°; the barometer, which was 30°10’ on the 28rd, only sank to 29°70' on the 25th November. This month sets in with a mingling of November fogs, passing gleams of sun, and sometimes, when a little frost occurs at night or morning, with the shining of the crescent moon and the Queen of Night— Venus, now at her best for telescopic obser-, vation. Many birds, characteristic of the season, have been observed. The common and Jack Snipes have been more than usually abundant in the Dearne valley, where also a common Sand- piper Las been shot. The far more rare green- legged Sandpiper, and a Dipper, have been taken in a net used by the unfeeling birdcatcher to snare the beautiful Kingfisher. Siskins have been seen by me among the beechnuts and alder seeds. Bramblings, too, and Goldcrests, have been noted in abundance in Cannon Hall Park, amongst the noble beech trees which adorn that fine domain.—T. Lister, Barnsley, Dec. 10. [Old Winter” seems to be in earnest this year, and determined to give us a specimen of his power. Weare glad of it; and welcome him most heartily. Health follows in his footsteps, aud re- generation takes place whenever his “icy morsels” are scattered over the earth. Snow, too, has preceded him; and what lovely pictures has she formed all over the country! ‘The trees, covered * with rime, are quite poetical {no joke is intended here); and the fantastic ornaments adorning the sprays and hollies are superlatively beau- tiful. Whilst we write (Dec. 16), the whole face of the country is gemmed with the richest jewels. The snow lies deep on the roads. The hedges are bespangled with glittering diamonds innumerable ; trembling in the rays of the pale but ever- glorious sun, who peeps from behind a fleecy cloud to enjoy the work of Nature’s lovely hand ; in which he will bear a part, and on which he will throw an additional lustre. Oh,—if space permitted, what a “Mirror of the Month” we could write to-day! Our thoughts,— our exis- tence, are fairly ‘‘ poetry,”’—and nothing else. We have seen sights to-day which we shall never forget. Let us here record the fact of snow falling (near London) for the first time, on Dec. 15. It continued that and the following day, and averaged in some places a depth of from two to four feet. In other parts of the country, the depth was from six to ten feet. The cold has been such as to make people’s faces “short,” crisp, healthy—jollv. Oh, may those faces never grow longer! A “short,” merry, eood-tempered, smiling countenance is so be- coming! Does it not make even the chin on a fair face look provokingly-tempting? It does. And we feel angry with the frost for “pinching ” it. We would most willingly do tt for him,—if A-hem !] KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. Playfulness of a Oat and Dog.—A few days ago, at the house of a near relative, I witnessed a very pretty and interesting scene. He has a beautiful little spaniel dog, of the King Charles’ breed, ’yclept “Mr. Hoppy.” His lady has a fine tabby cat, “ Mrs. Toodles” by name. This funny pair began their games shortly after my arrival, and continued, at intervals, during the whole afternvon and evening. Never did I see cat and dog so thoroughly enjoy themselves ! ‘“‘Hoppy” sprang upon “oodles.” T. caught him by the neck and floored him. Then the scene was reversed,—T. being down. Now a regular wrestling; and both down together. Up again. Roll over each other. H. making a spring at T.’s tail, finds her too quick for bim, and is himself caught by his own brush. T. takes up her position,with her back to the fender ; and as H. makes his spring, he is thrown by T. H. now takes the exactly opposite position tu T., and then the four paws of each move with won- derful rapidity. The most perfect good-humor prevails. . “ Toodles” never lets her claws be seen. No angry growl. No snarling nor barking. Such thorough good-temper I never before witnessed between cat and dog. I was so much interested in this charming scene, that I determined to beg a little corner in Our Journat to register the simple facts. Let me hope that others beside the feline race may take a hint from what is here recorded.—Bompyx Aruas, Tottenham. Trufiles.—The cultivation of the truffle, so long deemed an impossibility, has at length, says the “ Bath Chronicle,” been accomplished. The dis- covery was made at Macon, where Madame Nagel, proprietress of a chateau in the neighbor- hood, has, this autumn, succeeded in producing a large number of truffles in her garden. All the conditions under which the cultivation of this product must be prosecuted are known, and nothing more is required than to improve and perfect them by experiment. The Macon “ Hor- ticultural Journal” says :—‘ Like other crypto- gamic plants of the same family, truffles are parasites, requiring humus of a special character. For example, a sub-stratum of chesnut or oak leaves, mixed with an argillo-calcareous soil, is just as necessary to them as a bed of horse-dung to the common mushroom. We are satisfied that if this new branch of culture were seriously studied, the production of the truffle would be easy and profitable—F. W., Clapham. Table-Turning, &c.—Have you seen the very ridiculous—nay, something worse—pamphlet by the Rey. Mr. Disp, trying to prove that the spirit of the Prince of Darkness “ animates” the legs of tables, &c., causing the said legs to “answer” correctly any question,—lawful or otherwise —that may be put to them? Do read it—if you have not already done so; and tell the public what you think of it.—W. R., Richmond. [We have read this inflated,—this disgusting pamphlet (as it not blasphemous?), and consider it the production of a man of unsound mind. His friends should look to him at once. We have for years been of opinion that his intellect was “weak.” We have talked to him face to face ere now, and can only come to one charitable con- 373 clusion,—he is very far “gone.” The Rev. F. Close, of Cheltenham, has just fallen foul of this strange, uncouth man,—“‘finishing’” him, and four other ‘gentlemen in black,” in the most masterly style (see the pamphlet called “ The Testers Tested.”) How the Christian religion does suffer by the ordination of such ‘‘ daft”? men,—and how very many silly fools run after them !] The Robin a * sympathising ”’ Bird.—Perhaps some of your poetical correspondents may think the following simple incident worthy of notice, and marry it to “immortal verse.”” Some time since, the funeral of an aged and most respected lady took place in the beautiful neighborhood of Dunster. Amongst the “ followers” was a robin, who took an active part in the ceremonies by singing during the eniire service. His seat was on a spray close by the grave. The old lady had expressed a wish to be buried in the autumn ; and it is a touching coincidence that her requiem should have been chanted by autumn’s sole cho- rister. Let me add—the clergyman who officiated was much affected by this accompaniment of the church’s rites.—PuiLocyon, Braintree. Consumption of Ardent Spirits.— A curious calculation is made by Mr. Thomas George Shaw, of 25, Old Bond Street, relative to the quantity of spirits consumed in England, Ireland, and Scotland, in 1849. After giving the number of gallons used in each country, he says—‘‘ It is here shown, that the consumption was 28,246,987 gallons—yielding a revenue of £8,557,399. If this is divided among the whole population, it gives about one gallon to every man, woman, and child; but taking only the adult males, the proportions used in England, Ireland, and Scotland (exclusive of all that is smuggled and illegally made), proves that an Englishman drank in that year 214 gallons ; an Irishman 32; anda Scotchman, 11.” [We are happy to say that the Englishman is not now quite such a beast. The Scotchman far, very far exceeds him in bestiality ; as the more recent “returns” show. Glasgow, in particular,— where people are “* shut up” on Sundays—wallows in liquor.] Instinct of the House-Marten.—I was residing with my family, during the summer of 1849, in the village of Sutton, three miles from Hull. My dwelling was a neat rustic cottage on t!ie outskirts of the village, with latticed windows in the bed- chamber. Here a pair of martens commenced building their nest; and so near to the window that I could see into it. As I never interfered with the birds beyond looking out of the window and watching their operations, they soon became familiarised to my presence; and they permitted me to look on until their habitation was com- pleted. Just previous to this, I was startled one morning, as early as 4 o’clock, by some unusual noises proceeding from my little friends. Feeling curious, I rose to ascertain what was amiss. I then found that forcible possession had been taken of the nest by a house-sparrow( Passer domesticus ), who, snugly ensconced in his citadel of mud, was beating off his enemies vigorously! There was quite a war of words, as well as a pitched battle, and the sparrow at last wore out his pursuers. 374 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. Fairly exhausted, they flew away, and the cock- sparrow chirped loudly in praise of his victory. His triumph was short. In less than a quarter of an hour, the sound of a multitude of strange voices broke upon my ear. A whole flock of martens had been summoned to do battle; and there they were, all marshalled in full array, attacking the sparrow. Long did he hold out; but he was at last fairly dislodged, and chased away. ‘The champions waited awhile to see their friends re- stored to their lawful occupation, and then took their departure. Such a twittering there was among them! All now went well. The sparrow never returned. My little visitors were no more disturbed ; and in due course they reared a fine little family.—J. R., Hull. © [This is one of some fifty similar cases that have come before us. Beyond all doubt, birds perfectly comprehend one another, and assist each other in cases of emergency. Why should they not? It is delightful to note these things; for they lead us on to pursue our observations with an increasing ardor. We shall have an immensity to say about these matters by and by.] The Voice of Nature.—The most beautiful flowers are those which are double; such as double pinks, double roses, and double dahlias. What an argu- ment is this, against the chilling deformity of single blessedness! “Go marry!” is written on everything beautiful that the eye rests upon; beginning with the birds-of-Paradise, and ending with apple-blossoms.—T. Local Treatment of Acute Gout.—The extreme pain attending acute gouty inflammation may, it appears, be very quickly relieved by the applica- tion of pure spirits of wine. We witnessed a trial, says a writer in the Medical Times, of this remedy by Dr. Goolden, on a patient in St. Thomas’s Hospital, who was suffering at the time agonising pain in the foot ; and the result was an almost immediate relief. Dr. Goolden informed us that be was in the habit of using it very fre- quently in private practice, and always with the most pleasing effect. He believed it 1o act by being absorbed, and not by mere evaporation. The mode of application is by a piece of lint satu- rated in the spirit, laid over the part, and then covered with oil-silk.— Humanrras. Keep the Mind employed, and the Body active. —“ To be employed, is to be happy,” said Gray. And if he had never said anything else, either in prose or even in verse, he would have deserved the esteem of all posterity. He certainly practised as he spoke. His library bore witness to an extent of curiosity, a perseverance of research, and an accuracy of observation (with a minute diligence in recording what he had gained) and gathering in the harvest of the day,— that is hardly to be paralleled in any one who was so gifted with original genius and the power of forming his own creations of thought.—Coriopsis, Clijton. The Dog.—I quite rejoice in reading the many interesting anecdotes of animals that find a place in your delightful columns; and observe with plea- sure that the Dog, in your estimation, ranks very high. So he does in mine. Dogs have such a habit of watching one’s face - searching and read- ing one’s thoughts! They really penetrate into our wishes and wants, and sympathise with our infirmities. A well-bred black and tan terrier of mine was possessed of a charming trait. Nothing pleased her so well as taking care of ladies when walking alone. On such occasions, she would gladly forego all her favorite amusements, —such as hunting in the fields, barking at every bird on the wing, &c., &c. She would also keep quite close to her charge; looking up every now and then into her companions’ faces, as much as to say,—‘‘ Don’t be afraid, ’m here. I'll take care of you.” I remember this same pretty little ‘‘ Rose ’’ accom- panying two ladies and myself in a walk. One of our party—an invalid—being fatigued, said she would return home. This put Rose’s good qualities toasevere test. She longed for a scamper far away, on the chance of worrying a rat, or catching a weasel asleep; and at the same time she felt she hada “duty” to perform. It was amusing to watch how she deliberated. However, pleasure did give way to duty; and, fixing a look (1 shall never forget it!) on the lady, she followed her closely home,—looking at her every now and then patronisingly, as if to say,—‘‘ All is quite right, and you know it.” What an amiable trait; that this untutored brute should have left her master and mistress,—aye, quitted her favorite sport, of which Nature had given such a lively and plea- surable sense, to follow an invalid stranger! Let the human brute take a lesson in self-denial and compassion from a dog. I have observed the same endearing character in two of Rose’s puppies. ‘Vhey are the cross of a beagle of high breed. The one that resembles the mother in appearance, exhibits the same disposition and _ habits,—I may say “mind,;” whilst the other (which is quite a beagle to look at), has a less open way of dealing,—is sneaking and cowardly, and (like a worldly-minded person) more full of affectionate outward demonstrations.—Pumocyon. Susceptibility of Cats to Mesmeric Influence.— Are you aware that’cats are very sensitive subjects, and that they display some very curious pheno- mena when under the influence of Mesmerism ? I should like tu see something from your pen on this subject, for I imagine you can be no stranger to what I allude to.—J. E. | We will bear your wish in active remembrance, and will gladly comply with it. We sadly lack leisure just now ; but we hope soon to make head- way. One head and one pair of hands—only, demand a little patience.] Literary Labor, or ‘‘ Drudgery.”—There is no state of slavery on earth, says our excellent contemporary, the “Liverpool Mercury,” like that attendant upon a newspaper (and. literary) life, whether it be as director or subordinately. Your task is never ended, your responsibility never secured. The last day’s work is forgotten at the close of the day on which it appears; and the dragon of to-morrow waits open mouthed to devour your thoughts, and snap up one morsel more of your vexed existence. Be as successful as it is in the nature of things to be—be indifferent to praise, and lion-hearted against blame—still will icneneninessiainennieedemameesioenemememmemees ent ce | KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 375 the human frame wear out before its time, and your body, if not your mind, exhibit symptoms of dry rot.—How very true this is! And yet the public regard it not! You may kill yourself in their service, if you will; and when you are gathered to your fathers, they will turn to your successor as naturally as does the needle to the pole. The life of a literary man, engaged on a popular periodical, is not a matter for envy, but rather for pity. He has rarely a minute to call his own, and is for ever talking in his sleep !— W. K. —_—_—— Fish Manufactory —At Duninguen—the es- tablishment for producing fish on the artificial system—there are now 200,000 eggs of the Rhine salmon, and of the large trout of the Swiss lakes, duly fecundated; and there are 100,000 of the same description of eggs, also fecundated at the College de France, in Paris. These eggs are destined for distribution amongst the departments in which money has been voted for the application of the artificial system.—GaLIGNANI. Metropolitan Fancy Rabbit-Club.—The 23rd session of this flourishing society was held on the 21st ult., at Anderton’s Hotel. The show of rabbits was unusually good, and prizes were awarded to Messrs. Arnold, Parks, Lock, Bird, Stinten, and Littleton. The first prize was taken by Mr. Arnold. It was for a yellow and white buck (6 months and 19 days old), the length of whose ears was 212 inches by 5 inches wide. There were some very beautiful animals exhi- bited durimg the evening.—Areus. The World we Live in.—I am always pleased, my dear Sir, when I note the ardor with which you pursue the follies and extravagances of life,— striving to make people “think” for what end they were born, and on what they ought to do for the benefit of each other whilst living. I find the following in “ Household Words.” Ag it bears strongly upon “ our ” views of the question, I should like to see it transplanted into Our JourNnau :—‘‘ Only to think! How many thou- sand men and women in England—and how many millions more throughout the world—eat their daily bread by making and vending Fashion's elegant trumpery!—gloves, fans, spangles, scents, and bon-bons! How ships, colonies, and com- merce, are ali mixed up ina curious yet congruous elaboration with these fal-lals! How one end of the chain may be my lady’s boudoir and its nick- nacks in Belgravia, and the other end a sloppy ship-dock on the hot_strand of the Hooghly ! How a ball supper, with its artificial flowers, its trifles, its barley-sugar temples, its enamelled baskets and ratifia cakes, had its beginning in the cheerless garret and the heated cellar! How the immen- sities of the world—its workshops, and marts, and bourses, and chambers of commerce—are, after all, only an accumulation of these fashionable little- nesses in bulk; packed into huge bales and casks, registered in ledgers and day-books, and sent and re-seut in strong ships, with bills of lading and charter-parties, to the uttermost ends of the earth! —‘‘ Vanity of vanities, all is vanity! "—Emuy P. Market’ Gardens.—Within a radius of fifteen miles of London, there are 200,000 acres of land in the hands of market gardeners, all laboring for the London market. 10,000 loads of turnips, 100,000 sacks of peas, 20,000,000 heads of celery, 40,000,000 cabbages, and 100 tons of water- cresses, are said to be sold annually in Covent Garden Market, alone.—E. P. Science and Revelation.—Science is everywhere seen hand in hand with revelation ; not opposed to, but consonant with, its important truths. As the rays of the orb of day reveal in the configuration of the world beauties, which, without his beams, would exist unknown—and adorn every object by the glory of their reflected or transmitted hues, so Science, by her illuminating influence, displays, in every department of the universe, the wisdom and beneficence of its great originator; and even where the exhibition of these characters is least expected, produces, as if by a photographic pro- cess, vivid delineations of the Divine perfections. Here do we see Science accomplishing her high behests; making known to man the attributes of God, and by her light revealing the entire volume of Nature, as a vast supplemental Treatise to His written Word.—J. L. Down. Genius, Talent, Cleverness—Genius rushes like a whirlwind ; talent marches like a cavalcade of heavy men and horses; cleverness skims like a swallow in a summer evening, with a sharp shrill note, and a sudden turning. The man of genius dwells with men and with nature; the man of talent in his study; but the clever man dances here, there, and everywhere—like a butterfly in a. hurricane; striking everything, and enjoying nothing, but too light to be dashed to pieces. The man of talent will attack theories; the clever man assails the individual, and slanders private cha- racter. But the man of genius despises both: he heeds none, he fears none, he lives in himself, shrouded in the consciousness of his own strength —he interferes with none, and walks forth an example : ‘‘eagles fly alone, they are sheep that herd together.’”’ Itis true that, should a poison- ous worm cross his path, he may tread 3:t under his foot: should a cur snarl at him, he may chas- tise it; but he will not, cannot attack the privacy of another. Clever men write verses; men of talent write prose; but the man of genius writes Poetry.—Lecror. Effect of Snow on the Hyes.—An account has just been published, by one Jacques Balmot, of the effects produced on the eyes by the glare of the snow, when he and Dr. Paccord were ascending Mount Blanc. They had not the green veils on them which are recommended. He states that when he arrived at the grand plateau, he was so dazzled that he was nearly blind, and whichever way he looked he only saw large spots of blood. He sat down and closed his eyes for half-an-hour, and was then able to go on. They passed ‘the night in the snow. On the following morning Dr. Paccord exclaimed, ‘‘I hear the birds singing, and itis quite dark; ’’ but his eyes were open, and he was blind for the time, and only recovered after careful management for a considerable period. F. W., Clapham. 376 Gold Fish.—The Chinese say, my dear Sir, that these fish were first brought to Amoy from Japan, where they are indigenous, being found in a tepid lake on the summit of the Laconie mountains— probably the crater of an extinct volcano, ‘The Mandarins, we are told, avail themselves of this fairy family as garden ornaments—frequently in- troducing them between plates of glass in the interstices of their favorite rockwork, which they render water-tight by a varnish which they call tamfoo; or retaining them in porcelain vases, symmetrically disposed on the balustrades of their houses. They are generally fed on a sort of-biscuit made of rice, with, in the colder season, a small quantity of the bark of the camphor-tree, very finely powdered—called Fangti. During the breeding season, the eggs of certain insects are liberally supplied. Rain-water agrees better with them than spring-water ; for, if there be iron in the soil, they gradually lose their brilliancy, and become of an ashy-brown color; or, if chalk abounds, or porcelain clay, they become blind—the scales throw out a cottony exudation, like the American blight on the apple tree, and they die. It is a singular circumstance attending gold fish, that, under cer- tain dispositions of their temperament, they are seized with a sort of furore, and devour each other; the stronger preying on the more feeble. The Chinese call this disease Chang-poo-Ching. I do not know whether it occurs in our latitude — Lucy N., Tottenham. [Yes, Mademoiselle, this furore does occasion- ally take place; but not very frequently.] A NEW YEAR’S DINNER. BY TwO ‘OLD HANDS.” EATING is good;—very; and Drinxine also. But let every thing be done in moderation; so that we may RATIONALLY enjoy ourselves, and have no reason to repent on the morrow what we have done to-day.— ADDISON. LET US, OF COURSE, BEGIN WITH BEEF. Mighty is the baron! Beautiful too—aye, infinitely more beautiful than the laurels of sword-flourishing conquerors—is the sprig of holly here and there stuck about it, suggestive of the glory of the season. Well, then, you must buy a baron—yes, a whole baron, for you have the wherewithal. And if you have not,—why, would that you had ! But, nonsense, you have the means; and therefore, a whole baron must you buy, as the foundation of a New Year’s dinner. There; you have given your orders like a man! And see; the butcher, blithely touch- ing his hat, avouches that the identical baron —upon whose yellow fat your eye is now complacently reposing—shall be sent to your kitchen. ‘That baron,—and no other. Stay, there is a small sirloin; that you must buy too. You must indeed. Nay; you are about to reply that, with a baron, what need have you of a sirloin? Much; the greatest need. We know far better than you, what you require for the right enjoyment So; very well. of this happy season. The KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. butcher will send home the sirloin. right, Sir!” Well; here we are at the poulterer’s. Sir, you have an eye for a turkey. That zs a most magnificent bird indeed! A very roc in magnitude. Norfolk-hatched and reared, and in truth worthy to represent the county. It is a good deal of money; but then, it is for the New Year. And consider the indirect applause of your magnificence and _ taste, when your guests applaud that turkey! You may for a time make common cause with the bird. Yes; when your guests shall exclaim ‘‘ What a superb fellow !”—you may at least divide the compliment with the gallinaceous glory on your table. Therefore but why talk ? You have bought the turkey. Wait another minute. There is a delicate goose; anice, plump offering to the geniali- ties of the season. Oh, we observe your surprise. Your eye speaks, and asks—“ How is it possible that, with such a monster of a turkey, I can do anything with that goose ?” You'll want it. We assure you, upon the credit of our philosophy, that you’ll-want it! That’s proper. The goose, considering the season, is a great bargain, and therefore will “accompany” the turkey to your homestead. And when you buy the ingredients for your pudding, buy not according to time- hallowed recipes, a pound of one thing—two ounces of another—and so on; showing yourself a bigot to the cookery-book. But buy a pound aid ahalf—three ounces instead of two : in all things buy more—more. Rely on it, you will want them. With the like largeness of heart, make mince-pies. Lay in a stock of all things “‘sea- sonable,’’—and plenty of them. And when you have done all this, look around you for poor friends; old helpless acquaintance—pining, pauper neighbors. To one, send your sirloin. To another, your supplementary goose. To another, ingredi- ents for a pudding,—and so on, until, down to your neighbors’ children, you have made a largess of apples, oranges, and chesnuts ; and perhaps a trifle more. All this done, set yourself—cross -legged if you will—cosily down; and ruminate, whilst enjoying yourself among your friends, upon the happiness that you have been conferring upon others. This is,—worth living for. “ Quite OUR ADIEU! To-pay, in snow array’d, stern Winter rules The ravag’d plain. Anon, the teeming earth Unlocks her stores, and Spring adorns the year. So let us,—Friends,while Fate like Winter frowns, ‘G BLIss ! EXPECT REVOLVING B ane ——_—— END OF VOLUME IV. a cm rl aay Se ly tl mpi —S>= a8 ee -- 2 an eS ee gn ee Ot tre . . - i ia ‘tue at, as ve... OX : * . 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