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NATURE'S HOLIDAY, SHARED WITH TWO OF HER LOVING 



CHILDREN. 



BY WILLIAM KIDD, ESQ. 



Behold! how fast advancing o'er the plain 

 The rosy Autumn comes, in rosy triumph. 

 Waving his golden hair! Yon blooming mallow, 

 That opes his red lips to the kiss of day. 

 Just tells his coming, — then retires unseen 

 To join his sister tribes in Flora's- bower. — Koenkb. 



I HARDLY need tell you, or any of your kindred readers, that Nature's 

 children require little introduction to each other. " One " heart is common 

 to the whole (very small but very select) family. And what a heart it is ! A 

 short preface this, to a large volume of meditations, whose essence must 

 (unwillingly on my part) be compressed into a nutshell of space. " Brevity," 

 however, " is the soul of wit." 



Good-fortune — Dame Fortune is always " good," if we could only think so 

 — has recently brought one of your amiable and valued correspondents, — 

 John Mc Intosh, into my immediate neighbourhood. Once, and once only, 

 had I seen this gentleman previous to his arrival amongst us ; and that once 

 was for a very few short hours. An epistle was of course immediately fired 

 oiF by him. I received the fire in my heart, and returned it, — hitting the 

 challenger in the same tender part. It was " a dead shot ! " 



Wliat could an epistle, written by one child of Nature to another, contain 

 at such a season as August ? What but an appointment for an interview, 

 previous to ranging the fields in company ? Exactly so ; that was it .' 



But " there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip." A severe domestic 

 affliction, which promised to end fatally, set aside (on the veiy morning 

 prepared for a ramble) all possibility of realising our intended happiness. 

 It was my painful duty, and melancholy pleasure, to tariy by the bed-side of 

 the fair sufferer, — not only for that day, but for many days subsequently.* 

 Kind Providence, however, blessed the means used ; nor were my silently- 

 breathed prayers unheard. In another fortnight, my patient was becoming 

 gradually convalescent; and I felt fully justified in quitting my post of 

 honor for one day. 



Imagine, then, Wednesday, — August 29th, one of the very finest days in 

 the Calendar of 1855. Our place of rendezvous was Shepherd's Bush; the 

 appointed time for meeting half-past nine a.m. Some few minutes previous 

 to the chimes of the half hour, had a curious eye been taking observations, 

 there might have been seen advancing up two separate roads (joining each 

 other at right angles) a pair of happy faces. These happy faces were 

 mounted upon two flexible pillars of flesh and blood, — the base of each being 



• This was a case of Cholera, attended by the most alarming symptoms, the ravages of which remain 

 still but too visible. 



