KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



35 



travel towards Hammersmith). However, 

 little cared we for that. 



Arrived at the " Black Lion," Bayswater, 

 we began to think of that " little snug 

 room" at Colney Hatch (before referred to) ; 

 and in we went, to drown the remembrance. 



A few minutes' rest, and we were again 

 on our way, — our friend deploying shortly 

 afterwards towards his household-gods at 

 Kensington ; and we marching direct to our 

 haven of rest at — Hammersmith. 



*** The number of patients admitted was 650. 

 These, and the addition of many visitors, caused 

 the room to be well filled. During the evening, 

 there was an alarm of fire raised ; but all was 

 quickly subdued, and the patients kept quiet 

 without any undue interruption to the evening's 

 festivities. 



OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. 



FEBRUARY. 



Let Winter come . . . 

 Yet shall the smile of social love repay 

 With mental light, the melancholy day. 

 And when its short and sullen noon is o'er, 

 The ice-chain' d waters slumb'ring on the shore, 

 How bright the faggots in the little hall 

 Blaze on the hearth,— and warm the pictur'd wall I 



■ Campbell. 



Thus, Time's first ages pass'd away, — 



Its feeble light and mental gloom, 

 Joyful we hail the brighter day, 

 When Heaven shall shine, and Earth shall bloom. 

 Beck. 



The departed month of January has left 

 behind it unusual, — momentous proofs of its 

 presence amongst us. Our newspapers have 

 recorded, at fearful length, what has trans- 

 pired during the month, in the way of storms, 

 wind,— tempest ; nor have the thousands of 

 lives lost at sea, destroyed on our railways, 

 &c, failed to be duly chronicled. We have 

 sat by our fireside, read all this, shuddered 

 at the catalogue of human calamities, and 

 felt truly grateful for our own preservation. 

 It is only by comparison that we can know 

 the many mercies of which we are the daily, 

 hourly, momentary recipients. When we 

 walk abroad, our meditations on these things 

 are sweet. 



The month has been employed as usual ; 

 and as it has been more varied in its amuse- 

 ments than usual, people have enjoyed it 

 in an increased ratio : — 



Around, around, around, around, 

 The snow is on the frozen ground ! 

 River and rill 

 Are froze and still. 

 The warm sun lies on the cold side hill, 



Andthe trees in the forest sound ; 

 As their ice clasp'd arms wave to and fro 

 When they shiver their gyves with a stalwart 

 blow. 



We have had skating, sliding, snow-ball- 

 ing,— -in all their varieties. We have had 



lots of fun, too, in noticing the hosts of 

 people who have " made themselves up" to 

 stand the attacks of Jack Frost ; who has 

 evidently determined this year to remind 

 us of his power. To see the snow drifting, 

 whirling — eddying along the spacious streets, 

 and catching every unhappy pedestrian at 

 the corners of our thoroughfares ! To see 

 the vain attempts to escape from the deter- 

 mined enemy, — umbrellas turned head over 

 heels, and converted into broken bones ! 

 Women's bonnets, already more than three 

 parts off their heads, carried away altogether 

 (a just punishment for their gross im- 

 modesty), and their owners crying from cold 

 and anger — in utter helplessness ! Then the 

 tumbles, somersaults, slips, and gymnastic 

 feats of the perambulating " gents," — What 

 fun ! Was anything ever like it ? Never ! 



We roared most at the patronisers of the 

 " beard and moustache movement." These 

 bristly, beastly savages, — fine specimens of 

 their " order" — presented a sight too ludicrous 

 to depict faithfully. The snow had fairly 

 converted their already deformed, hairy 

 visages — into fac-similes of clowns and pan- 

 taloons ; and as each zany shuffled along the 

 street, he was greeted with a yell, groan, or 

 shout from the passer-by. 



These frosted monkeys we shall never 

 forget. To see them in their agony — flutter- 

 ing along the highways, an object of universal 

 derision, was an excellent practical lesson ; 

 this will induce them, let us hope, to 

 imitate humanity for the future. It is never 

 too late to turn one's back upon folly. 

 " Fashion" is a hard task -master ! He rules 

 his victims with an iron rod ; first artfully 

 seducing them, and then making them a 

 public laughing-stock. But enough about 

 our man-monkies. 



The month of January, as regards Lon- 

 don, has received due honor from scribblers 

 of all denominations. As regards the 

 Country, it has produced scenes which will 

 never be forgotten by those whose inclination 

 led them out for a walk. Turn where you 

 might, gaze where you would, — above, 

 below, from hill, in valley ; here, there, every- 

 where, — pictures of loveliness " painted in 

 snow," extended far and near. There was 

 an unlimited expanse of natural beauty for the 

 eye to feast on, — all so pleasingly bewilder- 

 ing, and so enchanting to the beholder, that 

 no language could describe the effect pro- 

 duced on his mind. Our pen refuses to make 

 an attempt to give even an idea of it. Yet 

 does " fond memory linger on what it saw," 

 and the soul rejoice in looking back upon 

 its transports. 



January has presented us with extremes. 

 It has been intensely cold, and unseasonably 

 warm. If our readers can call to mind the 

 morning of the 14th, and also the morning of 



