104 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



furious, and requested the magistrate to repeat 

 the question. 



Magistrate. — "You were in the Pinte of 



R , David, when this took place ? " 



David threw his casquette on the ground, 

 jumped upon it like a madman, and swore he was 

 there. 



The magistrate looked at Jean, who simply 

 stroked his nose. 



Magistrate. — " Call Nannette. Nannette ap- 

 peared, — a horrid-looking witch, of a dark olive 

 color. She was hesmeared with hutter and mud. 

 Her matted hair was sticking to her swarthy neck, 

 and her dark eyes were darting looks of the most 

 excited, angry feelings. 



Magistrate. — " Your name, Nannette — your 

 family name ? " 



Nannette. — "Nannette Blanc." (A general burst 

 of laughter, which caused Nannette to jump 

 around, and to show herself quite determined to 

 knock down every offender). But it was quite 

 impossible to help laughing. Even the worthy 

 magistrate could not but smile at this fair beauty. 

 "Now, Nannette," quoth the worthy Magis- 

 trate, " tell us, — are you at all related to any of 

 these parties?" 



Nannette. — " Dianstrel Monsieur eait bel et 

 bien que David est mon mari." 



Magistrate. — " Pardon, ma bonne femme, 

 je n'en savais Hen ?" 



David (grinning). — " Oui, Monsieur le Juge, 

 la Nannette c'est ma femme, mon epouse, ma." 



Magistrate. — " (Jest assez, David, je corn- 

 er ends J 



David. — "Eh bien! si monsieur compr end, c'est 

 tout ce quil me f out — c'est ma femme J 



Nannette, a David. — " Tais toi. Fou que tu 

 es!" 



Magistrate. — " Dites nous, Nannette, ce que 

 vous savez de cette affaire ? Ou etiez vous ? " 



Nannette now broke out at express speed, 

 " Je suis allS chercher mon mari qui buvait un 

 verre a la Pinte, pendant que Lizette preparait 

 le goute. J\j ai vu Monsieur Bombyx et cette 

 grosse bete Jean, qui voulaient decapiter le pauvre 



R , il s'est sauve dans la Pinte, et moi je re- 



tournais avec David. C'eiait horrible de les voir, 

 Monsieur le Juge, Je craignais quails allaient 

 nous tuer tous roide morts. Je rC avais presque 

 pas la force de retourner chez nous. J 'etais ter- 

 rified 



R to David (patting him on the shoulder). 



— " C est par fait P 



David (grinning). — " Ne ta'i je pas bien dit ? " 

 Jean smiled and stroked his nose. 



Nannette to Jean. — " Tupeux bien rire, grosni- 

 gaud que tu es. Je viendrai te couper les axles. 



At this moment an officer arrived with a large 

 sealed letter for Bombyx, who, after reading it, 

 gave it to Jean, and then handed it to the magis- 

 trate. The latter, after perusing it, desired Nan- 

 nette to sit down. 



Magistrate to officer. — " Call Susanne C ," 



And in a few moments a most respectable young 

 woman made her appearance and took up her 

 quarters close to Jean. As soon as David caught 

 sight of her, he turned to a deadly slate color. 

 His lips quivered ; his chin nearly touched his shoes. 

 He was not only speechless, but motionless. Nan- 

 nette, too, suddenly dropped on the bench ; and 



in an instant became of a dirty stone color, as 

 though she had seen a vision. All her previous 

 animation had vanished. You might have moved 

 her about like a bit of soft putty, to which she 

 bore some resemblance. 



The policeman and R looked tremblingly 



at each other, but neither could say a word. Jean 

 stroked his nose, and took an extra prise — at 

 the same time offering his capacious box to Bom- 

 byx. The magistrate looked at Bombyx, as 

 though to ask for some explanation of the extra- 

 ordinary scene before him. This, however, was 

 soon explained by the examination of Susanne 

 C . 



But I must here leave off, and remain, au revoir, 



Your affectionate old friend, 



Fino. 

 Tottenham, Feb. 20. 



AN ODE TO MUSIC. 



BY ALFRED HETHERINGTON. 



All hail 1 sweet muse, one of the tuneful nine 

 Whose office 'tis to cheer the drooping heart, — 

 To soothe its pain, alleviate its grief, 

 To raise new thoughts, new feelings to create ; 

 Thoughts pure and holy as e'en thou thyself. 

 The charm is thine to lull the demon rage, 

 To silence angry passion's maddening roar ; 

 To dissipate e'en fear, which, but for thee, 

 Would in the human breast triumphant reign. 

 Wisdom and woman, wealth, wit, war, and wine, 

 Have had their meed of praise — their honors 



shared 

 With virtue, love and beauty, truth and grace. 

 Not less in might and power art tTiou whose voice 

 Resounds in deafening roars, or murmuring 

 The dulcet sounds of gentle melody, 

 "Varied and pleasing as the changing scenes 

 Nature unfolds to those who love her best. 

 Man, — mighty man — God's greatest, noblest 



work, 

 Soars high above the world ; his soul entranced 

 Yields to thy fascination. When the sweet 

 Soft voice of harmony steals o'er his ear, 

 In silent admiration rapt, he bends 

 Attentively to catch the thrilling notes ; 

 Listens, and follows, in its airy flight, 

 The long, low cadence as it dies away 

 Far o'er the hill, — fainter, yet fainter still,— 

 Now lost for ever ! 



Nature claims from thee 

 Those gentle attributes which first inspired 

 Our hearts with love and admiration. 

 Earth, air, fire, water — each and ail combine 

 To render praise and to exalt thy fame. 

 Thy voice resounds from Niagara's falls 

 To the small stream that ripples through the v 

 In words of pity, and in tones of love ; 

 In gentle zephyrs, and in howling winds, — 

 And countless myriads of the feathered race 

 Warble a concert of sweet harmony. 

 Thou dwellest in a holy, happy sphere, 

 And by thine aid, Man, in angelic form, 

 His maker will adore — his soul attune 

 To sing God's praise, and to resound His love, — 

 Hls power and grace through all Eternity ! 



