110 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



They love to see how bright 



She shines upon the sun : 

 Like lowly white-crowned queen, 



Demurely doth she bend, 

 And stands, with quiet mien, 



The little children's friend. 



Out in the field she's seen, 



A simple rustic maid, 

 In comely gown of green 



And clean white frill arrayed ; 

 There stands, like one in mood 



Of hope by fancy spun, 

 Awaiting to be woo'd, 



Awaiting to be won. 



The dandy Butterfly, 



All exquisitely drest, 

 Before the Daisy's eye 



Displays his velvet vest : 

 In vain is he arrayed 



In all that gaudy show ; 

 What business hath a maid 



With such a foppish beau ? 



The vagrant Bee but sings 



For what he gets thereby; 

 Nor comes, except he brings 



His pocket on his thigh ; 

 Then let him start aside 



And woo some wealthier flower ; 

 The Daisy's not his bride, 



She hath no honey-dower. 



The Gnat, old back-bent fellow, 



In frugal frieze coat drest, 

 Seeks on her carpet yellow 



His tottering limbs to rest : 

 He woos her with eyes dim, 



Voice thin, and aspect sage ; 

 What careth she for him ? 



What part hath youth with age ? 



She lifteth up her cup, 



She gazeth on the sky ; 

 Content, so looking up, 



Whether to live or die. 

 Content, in wind and cold 



To stand, in shine and shower ; 

 A white-rayed marigold, 



A golden-bosomed flower. 



It is a pleasant croft 



Where " winged kine"' may graze ; 

 A golden meadow soft, 



Quadrille-ground for young fays ; 

 A little yellow plot, 



With clean white pales fenced round, 

 Each tipt with vermeil spot, 



Each set on greenest ground. 



THE ENGLISH IN ITALY. 



CHOICE OF COMPANY. 



" Br very circumspect," says good old Quarles, 

 "in the choice of thy company. In the society of 

 thine equals, thou shalt enjoy more of pleasure ; 

 in the society of thy superiors, thou shalt find more 

 profit. The best means to grow better, is, to feel 

 yourself the worst of the company. Always listen ; 

 but talk seldom." 



The English residing or travelling upon 

 the continent would, if gathered together, 

 make a large city. They carry England 

 with them wherever they go. In Rome there 

 is an English church, an English reading- 

 room, an English druggist, an English grocer, 

 and an English tailor. As England is an 

 island, so they everywhere form an insular 

 community, upon which the waves of foreign 

 influence beat in vain. This peculiarity 

 penetrates to the individual. A French or 

 German table-d'hote is a social continent; 

 but an English coffee-room, at the hour of 

 dinner, is an archipelago of islets, with deep 

 straits of reserve and exclusiveness flowing 

 between. 



Travellers of other nations learn to conform 

 to the manners and customs of the people 

 about them ; avoiding the observation at- 

 tracted by singularity. Not so the English- 

 man. He boldly faces the most bristling 

 battery of comment and notice. His shooting 

 jacket, checked trousers, and brown gaiters, 

 proclaim his nationality before he begins to 

 speak ; he rarely yields to the seduction of a 

 moustache ; he is inflexibly loyal to tea ; and 

 will make a hard fight before consenting to 

 dine at an earlier hour than five. The 

 English in Rome, as a general rule, show 

 little sensibility to the peculiar influences of 

 the place. Towards the Catholic Church 

 and its ceremonies they turn a countenance 

 of irreverent curiosity ; trying the spirit of 

 the Italians by their careless deportment, 

 their haughty strides, and their inveterate 

 staring — intimating that the forms of Catholic 

 worship are merely dramatic entertainments 

 performed by daylight. 



Nor are they much moved by beauty, in 

 nature or art. An Englishman, in his heart 

 of hearts, regards emotion or enthusiasm as 

 feminine weaknessess, unworthy of manhood. 

 A fine dog or horse calls forth from him 

 more energetic admiration than the most 

 beautiful landscape or picture. He marches 

 through a gallery with resolute strides — his 

 countenance expanding as the end draws 

 near. Five minutes despatch a Raphael; 

 four, a Titian or Coreggio ; and two or three 

 are enough for less illustrious names. 



It need hardly be said that the English 

 in Rome are not popular, either with the 

 Italians — in spite of the money they spend — 

 or with their fellow sojourners in other lands. 

 They form the subject of innumerable cari- 

 catures ; and hardly a book of travels appears 

 in any language but their own which is not 

 seasoned with stories — good, if not true — of 

 English phlegm, English rudeness, or English 

 eccentricity. But this unpopularity is not 

 more marked than the lofty disdain with 

 which it is accepted by the parties who are 



