KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



11 



support of her position in society. This 

 led to the ever-fashionable but unnatural and 

 cruel resort to nurses and other expedients. 

 Debts soon became contracted which it was 

 impossible to pay. This taught deception 

 first, and then falsehood. In order to blind 

 Morrison to the expedients adopted to supply 

 her wants, she had recourse to the most 

 wicked artifice. His absence from home 

 enabled her for some time to practise with 

 success; but eventually* she was discovered, 

 and lost the last prop which might otherwise 

 have saved her "a husband's confidence." 

 Poor fellow ! all now was a blank ; and being 

 very sensitive on points of truth and honor, 

 and finding himself deeply involved, his 

 mind tottered. Of course, too, his professional 

 pursuits were interrupted; and thus his 

 spirits, after many vain struggles, gradually 

 sank — until, no longer able to sustain his 

 declining credit, a prison became his tem- 

 porary home. From thence he passed into 

 a madhouse. What became of the wretched 

 object who was the immediate cause of this, 

 it is unnecessary to relate. Yet is it most 

 true, that those who instilled the poison 

 which led to her destruction were by far the 

 loudest in her condemnation. 



Now for a few words upon the more whole- 

 some subject of 



Duty. 



Ralph |Barnett was the owner of a' small 

 estate (Briar Hall), that had come into his 

 possession on the death of his wife's brother. 

 He resided upon it ; adding to it the manage- 

 ment of a small farm adjoining ; and the 

 profits of both enabled him to enjoy many 

 of the luxuries of life. He was considered 

 (indeed he was in heart and mind) a gentle- 

 man of the t true " Talfordian type." His 

 wife was in every way most deserving of the 

 warm affection he entertained for her. Kind, 

 hospitable, generous, and "natural," she 

 made their home a perfect Paradise of de- 

 lights. Nor were there any earthly sorrows 

 to cloud their happiness, beyond those which 

 He, to whom their daily thanks were offered, 

 sent to them as lessons or warnings. Both 

 are now gone to that "last bourne from 

 whence no traveller returns ;" but the tribute 

 which Barnett was permitted to pay to his 

 wife's memory still exists in the churchyard 

 of a beautiful village in Surrey. It runs 

 thus : — 



"She was 



But words are wanting to express what ! 

 Think, what a wife and mother should be. 

 And she was that ! " 



Towards those who shared their hospitality, 

 which was ever proffered by true "friend- 

 ship," there was always the same frankness 

 and generous warmth shown. They did not 

 allow the falsehood of "not at home," to be 



uttered at their door ; nor was there any 

 mystery in the countenance of either host or 

 hostess, to induce a moment's doubt as 

 to your hearty welcome. How closely 

 soever the mind of either might be studied, 

 no trace would there be of any difference of 

 wish, or feeling, existing between them. Each 

 gave way to the other, without knowing it ; 

 for, loving each other sincerely, they had 

 learnt to anticipate the wishes and tastes of 

 each other. This so perfectly, that neither 

 of the twain could be reconciled to any act 

 which might by possibility be unpleasant to 

 the other. 



There was a secret spring from whence all 

 this happiness originated, which this happy 

 couple cared not to inquire into. Still, it 

 did exist ; and bore its precious fruit with 

 ever-renewing vigor. Can I be blamed for 

 entertaining a wish to trace its origin, 

 whilst admiring the firmness of mind and 

 honesty of purpose with which they perse- 

 vered in its practice until it had become an 

 inseparable part of themselves ? I confess 

 to having studied the human heart somewhat 

 deeply in my time ; but I was most agreeably 

 surprised to find my studies in this case 

 almost unnecessary, for the simplicity of 

 truth speaks for itself. This spring and its 

 origin were revealed to me upon the occasion 

 of one of many happy visits paid to Briar 

 Hall, when the subject under consideration 

 was the topic. The mother (as may be 

 surmised) warmly condemned the officious- 

 ness of miscalled friends upon such occa- 

 sions ; and with some self-pride added, — 

 " When / married, I never would listen to 

 one word of ' advice,' save from my own 

 dear mother ; and she gave me none until T 

 was on the very point of leaving home on 

 the day of our marriage, — when, just as I 

 parted from her at our dear old cottage door, 

 she summed up all she ever gave me in so 

 short a sentence that I never could forget 

 it." 



" What was it ? " we all anxiously ex- 

 claimed — feeling convinced it had operated 

 most powerfully in forming her character. 

 Nor were we disappointed with her conclu- 

 sion. " It was, Remember, dear, never to 

 neglect your duty ! " 



And who will say, my dear sir, that in 

 this pithy sentence is not condensed the 

 spring of our happiness here and hereafter? 



Benedictus. 



[The real fact is, we moderns want a new 

 dictionary. Dignity, as recognised by the 

 old poets, was a virtue ; not a vice. It 

 rendered its possessor amiable : — 



Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye ; 

 In every gesture, dignity and love. 



Milton. 

 Now, Modern Dignity — the world's idol 

 is an imaginary good. It is a mere phantom, 



