KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



119 



and daisies — a hill-side covered with gorse and 

 broom — a mountain rich with purple heather — or 

 a forest glade azure with a carpet of wild 

 hyacinths. These, one and all, will bear com- 

 parison with any scene the tropics can produce. 

 I have never seen anything more glorious than an 

 old crab-tree in full blossom ; and the horse- 

 chesnut, lilac, and laburnum, — all vie with the 

 choicest tropical trees and shrubs. In the tropical 

 waters are no more beautiful plants than our white 

 and yellow water-lilies, our irises, and flowering 

 rush. — I send you the above, copied from 

 " Wallace's Travels." It is worthy a place in 

 " Our Own," which takes such infinite delight 

 in the flowers of this dearest of all dear countries. 

 — Lily of the Valley. 



The Blessing of a Good Temper. — The fol- 

 lowing, my dear sir, penned by Dr. Alcott, hits 

 very hard, right and left. His remarks, though 

 cutting, deserve general attention. People who 

 marry, says he, should look out above all things 

 for a good temper. This is a very difficult thing 

 to ascertain beforehand. Smiles are cheap ; they 

 are easily put on for the occasion ; and, besides, 

 the frowns are, according to the lover's whim, 

 interpreted into the contrary. By " good temper," 

 I do not mean an easy temper, a serenity which 

 nothing disturbs ; for that is a mark of laziness. 

 Sullenness, if you be not too blind to perceive it, 

 is a temper to be avoided by all means. A sullen 

 man is bad enough. What then must be a sullen 

 woman ; and that woman a wife — a constant 

 inmate, a companion day and night ! Only think 

 of the delight of sitting at the same table, and 

 occupying the same chamber, for a week, without 

 exchanging a word all the while ! Very bad to 

 be scolding for such a length of time ; but this 

 is far better than " the sulks." — Oh, my dear Sir, 

 I hate " the sulks." Do not you ? It does show 

 such a bad heart to bear malice ! — Nannette. 



[Quite right, Nannette. A sulky person, male 

 or female, deserves to be banished from all respec- 

 table society. This, without any " notice."] 



What is Friendship ? — I put this question in 

 Our Journal, considering that to be the proper 

 channel through which to obtain a correct answer. 

 "Friendship," according to Dr. Johnson, "is the 

 state of minds united by mutual benevolence ;" 

 and a friend, according to the same great autho- 

 rity, is " one joined to another in mutual bene- 

 volence and intimacy." Now what is a friend, in 

 the times in which we live ? The answer, alas ! 

 is plain. It is one who is joined to you in times 

 of prosperity, but who is never to be found in ad- 

 versity, — one who is ever ready to be a guest at 

 your table when your purse is well lined, and your 

 cellar well filled ; one who is ever ready to partake 

 of your haunch of venison and turtle soup, and 

 who never forgets to extol the quality of your iced 

 punch and sparkling champagne. He is a jovial 

 companion over a bottle of old port and Madeira, 

 and will not refuse to join with you in a cigar and 

 a glass of cold negus. One who will be ever 

 studying to amuse you — and himself also, by in- 

 troducing to your acquaintance some few of his 

 amiable companions, who will be as assiduous and 

 fawning as himself. One who will be ever ready 

 to take a seat in your carriage, or occupy a place 



in your box at the opera. One who will be the 

 most obsequious slave your wife can have ; who 

 will play with her " dear little pet dog," whistle 

 to her " pretty canary," find everything she does 

 — or does not, " perfectly charming." He is a 

 thorough " brick ; " for he will kiss the " darling 

 baby," and actually dance the eldest girl about 

 the drawing-room to pass away (so sweetly !) the 

 ten minutes before dinner. He makes a point of 

 never keeping the dinner waiting — especially if he 

 smells turbot and lobster sauce. < hie who is so 

 fond of you, that he will kindly sit down to short- 

 whist, or piquet; and remain as long as he can 

 conveniently continue escamoteing the bright 

 sovereigns from your pocket into his own — whilst 

 all the time he will be dexterously praising you 

 for the wonderfully good-humored way in which 

 you see the trick performed. He will even con- 

 descend to occupy your spare room, rather than 

 leave you too early. This friend will stick to you 

 as long as prosperity does ; but not one moment 

 longer. Let but one cloud of adversity appear on 

 the horizon; let some of those unfortunate accidents 

 occur which, in spite of all prudence and fore- 

 sight, will sometimes happen to the best regulated 

 families ; let it be discovered that your cellar is 

 empty, and your purse equally so; that you are 

 really necessitated to leave the mansion and 

 occupy a more humble abode; that you are 

 obliged to have recourse to your two legs to carry 

 your person about ; that you must content your- 

 self with boiled leg of mutton and turnips, with 

 plain sherry and port — then mark the marvellous 

 change ! Your noble-minded friend is now puffing 

 his cigar outside the omnibus, or on the coach- 

 box of the carriage of some new patron ; and as 

 the equipage rolls by you, and perhaps splashes 

 you all over with mud, he is looking at a crow in 

 the opposite field ; or so intent upon reading the 

 Morning Post, that he never perceives you — nay, 

 not even though your wife were by your side ; or, 

 if he should unfortunately turn round, and sud- 

 denly meet your eye, he instantly pulls a large 

 red silk handkerchief out of his pocket, and covers 

 his face, so that you may not see his wounded 

 pride and mortification. You are no longer a 

 " brick." You are no longer a trump. You are 



no longer a fine fellow. You are a poor d 1, 



and not fit to be noticed. But as after a storm 

 comes a calm, so it does sometimes happen that, 

 after a trial of adversity, a tide of prosperity 

 returns. You again inhabit a comfortable abode ; 

 once more your purse feels heavy with more gold 

 than you require. A neat clarence and pair are 

 once more at your command. Behold now the 

 miraculous metamorphosis ! Your friend re- 

 appears, and absolutely has the insolence to take 

 off his hat to your wife ; and, with still bolder 

 effrontery, affects the greatest astonishment at 

 seeing you again. " Why, my dear friend, where 

 have you been this long while ? I had quite lost 

 sight of you. Have you been to India or Cali- 

 fornia? I am charmed to see you look so well. 

 How are your dearest children ? Bless me, how 

 they have grown ! really, I hardly knew them. 

 Where do you live now ? What a nice pair of 

 horses you've got ! How well they match ! Fine 

 action, by Jove ! I shall do myself the pleasure 

 of paying my respects to-morrow. Did not know, 

 upon my word, you were returned from your travels. 



