66 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



occasionally offer themselves ; therefore let 

 us live in hope that some of our remarks 

 may pass not altogether unheeded. 



To write systematically about the country, 

 — its joys and never-ending pleasures, 

 would occupy a lover of nature his whole 

 life-time. We would never attempt it. We 

 can but speak generally on the subject ; 

 and present various pretty pictures, as 

 one by one they pass before us. When 

 Cowper wrote, — 

 " God made the ountry, and man made the town, " 



we can readily imagine what he felt; and 

 understand the supreme contempt he enter- 

 tained for our Modern Babylon and its gold- 

 worshipping inhabitants. His delights were 

 ever varying, — pure, rational, innocent, and 

 unceasing. None but those who live in 

 rural retirement can enter fully into the 

 feelings we speak of. 



To be a lover of nature is, as we have 

 before shown, to be satisfied with our own 

 company, and to be " happy" wherever we 

 go. To carry a Heaven, as it were, about 

 with us, and to try to make others as happy 

 as ourselves. We cannot allow selfishness, 

 exclusiveness, or upstart pride, to edge them- 

 selves in. A benevolent heart recognises no 

 such guests. 



To lose oneself in shady lanes, and to 

 wander among sylvan scenery, — keeping 

 company with birds, and innocent playful 

 animals, — what pleasure can be greater ? 

 How lightly do the hours pass, whilst care- 

 fully examining the pretty, wee, modest 

 heads of wild-flowers springing bashfully into 

 life among the hedgerows day after day ! 

 Then,the accompaniment of music that awaits 

 us as the herald of the sky wings his way to 

 Heaven's gate, to record his never-ceasing 

 song of praise ! whilst the less aspiring, but 

 equally sweet choristers of the grove, join 

 in the harmony nearer the earth. 



The season has now arrived when every 

 day is unfolding before our eyes pictures of 

 unexampled loveliness. The air is fresh. 

 The grass is green. Daisies are ornamenting 

 with the liveliest, prettiest of patterns, the 

 lovely carpets spread everywhere for us to 

 walk upon. Trees are awaking from their 

 sleep, and busily anxious to make their vernal 

 toilet. Flowers, too, are waking into life. 

 Buds and blossoms are seen under every wall. 

 Our friends, the birds, are singing the Spring 

 in. Cornfields are becoming vigorous in 

 their growing strength, and tell of " plenty" 

 in store. The bee flies abroad to try his 

 wings. Insect life begins its pleasing hum. 

 Rivulets musically roll over their beds of 

 pebble. Fleecy clouds toy with the glorious 

 sun. In a word, — Nature, our beloved, idol- 

 ised mother, has slept her sleep. She is up 

 and " doing. " God bless the work of her 

 lovely hands ! 



To enjoy all that now lies before us, may 

 appear an easy matter ; but it is not so. It 

 is a work of patience and careful study. A 

 bracing walk on a fine day is a nice thing, 

 and it promotes health. We enjoy it vastly. 

 But what we have so briefly hinted at, re- 

 quires a heart and soul to investigate it. 

 Early and late must we be on the look-out. 

 There is always something new coming into 

 active life at this season. 



People who make a holiday now and then, 

 returning home to come out no more, are not 

 lovers of the country. They seek a change 

 of scene only, and are satisfied with it. 



They love the country, and none else, who seek 

 For their own sake its silence and its shade ; 

 Delights which who would leave that has a heart 

 Susceptible of pity, or a mind 

 Cultured end capable of sober thought ? 



To fall in with people of a genial spirit, 

 when rambling in the country (a by no means 

 uncommon occurrence in some neighbor- 

 hoods), is a little " Heaven upon earth. " 

 It is at such times that an escape from the 

 polluting influence of cities and towns is esti- 

 mated and fully enjoyed. Then indeed can 

 we view the grand end for which man was 

 created ; and marvel at the sad use he makes 

 of the talents given him to trade withal. 

 Our mind insensibly falls into a pleasing 

 train of thought. Placid ourselves, and 

 seeing all nature happy around us, we feel 

 grateful for the mercies of which we are 

 individual partakers, — we pity those who 

 make gold and folly their gods ; and sing 

 with the sweet poet in an ecstacy of song, — 



"god made the country 1" 



As for the town, and man who made it, 

 — that is a subject on which our pen is not 

 now called upon to speak. Art is beautiful. 

 Science is noble. Man's ingenuity is great. 

 " Honor to whom honor. Praise to whom 

 praise is due !" The world is free for all to 

 choose what they like best. But give us 

 say we, the pure and innocent joys of 



A COUNTRY LIFE. 

 MORAL DEGENERACY. 



A disorder may for some time be confined to 

 a particular organ or member, and scarcely disturb 

 the healthy operation of the frame ; but as the 

 disorder increases in strength, it extends its in- 

 fluence, gradually affecting one function after 

 another, till it contaminates the whole system. 

 Such is the progress of moral degeneracy. 



The virtues for a time may seem to flourish, 

 even with the union of a vice ; but when a vice 

 has seized the heart, it becomes the centre of 

 morbid sympathy to all the moral affections, and 

 finally infects the whole of the moral constitution. 



Vigilantly use the preventive means against 

 mental contagion ; for when a moral disease is 

 contracted, it naturally advances, and remedial 

 treatment is frequently unavailing. 



