184 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



is not worth a thought,* — we are yet constrained 

 to speak our mind very freely to them. Every 

 day brings under our eye specimens of immodesty 

 in dress, so truly disgusting, that we are unable 

 to characterise it as it deserves. Look, too, at a 

 woman's bare head and brazen face a* she parades 

 the streets, proud to be so meretriciously con- 

 spicuous; and glorying, — yes, glorying in her 

 shame ! This, from the very highest to the very 

 lowest. There is scarcely an exception to be met 

 with. We are not a misanthrope by nature, — 

 assuredly not ; but when we look round, and gaze 

 upon the lax morality of our countrywomen, so 

 universally prevalent (and such little care taken 

 to conceal it), we confess our disgust to be unquali- 

 fied. Men take their cue from them, of course ; 

 and run to an excess, in closely assimilating them- 

 selves to brutes. Accordingly, we see hairy -faced 

 savages starting up all over the country, and 

 caricaturing our streets and highways, — the 

 whole world laboring hard to prove (what many 

 naturalists have boldly asserted) that men and 

 apes are only one slight remove from each other. 

 But this is a long digression] On the 18th 

 of March, we had some most refreshing showers. 

 The rain fell,— not heavily, yet abundantly. 

 It continued to fall during the night of the 18th, 

 and on the whole of the 19th day. The surface 

 of the ground (to use an expression of yours) was 

 " panting " for these reviving showers ; and now 

 may be seen the most surprising results. Vege- 

 tation is in all its glory. Trees, plants, flowers, 

 buds, blossoms, — all are luxuriating in simple, yet 

 bewitching grandeur. Let me remind you of 

 your promise to " come and see " what my pen 

 finds it impossible to describe. [" We never can 

 forget ! "] As for my friends, the birds ; they are 

 busy as the bees. These last are now out for 

 the season. We have six hives of them. This 

 enables me to study their habits, which are sin- 

 gularly interesting. You love bees, I know. 

 [We do indeed.] My robins have now become 

 shy. They are sitting. The thrushes and black- 

 birds are all at nest. A few young ones are 

 already hatched. The hedge-sparrows, " chinks," 

 and wrens, too, have begun to look "important." 

 They are doubtless thinking about family matters ; 

 as are also others of our numerous visitors. Meal 

 worms now afford but little temptation to our 



* A person of sense may be recognised at once 

 by his outward deportment. His appearance 

 (unstudied) tells us at a glance what he is. We 

 never find him guilty of an excess in apparel, nor 

 "remarkable" for his close resemblance to a 

 savage, — a great recommendation now-a-day8, and 

 indicating the depth of a man's "mind !" Neither 

 do we see him rejoicing in jewellery, perfume, a 

 profusion of hair, and other such ridiculous, dis- 

 gusting effeminacies. None but fools are ever 

 found thus offending. We speak not of women. 

 They have nothing else to set them off, and little 

 else to think about, — thanks to modern education ! 

 Tn our boyhood, Modesty used to be " the " orna- 

 ment in which they most delighted ; and right 

 well did it become them. That garment, how- 

 ever, is now quite laid aside. ''Fashion" has 

 long since banished it, hy consent, from all (so 

 called) decent society. " Punch " has truly said 

 — all our women are " bare-faced ! " — Ed. K. J. 



winter pensioners. They find food in abundance, 

 everywhere. The voice of the blackbird is, whilst 

 I write, sweetly distilling from the top of a lofty 

 tree. The thrush, too, is piping away merrily ; 

 and the robins are in a perfect ecstacy of song. In 

 a word, all nature is happy. We have had sonic 

 large flocks of starlings in the neighborhood. 

 How beautiful they look in their flight, as the sun 

 reflects the brilliancy of their gay colors ! [Yes ; 

 it is a pretty sight. About three weeks since, 

 when approaching Tottenham, along the road 

 known as the " Seven Sisters," a flock of at least 

 600 starlings passed over our head. The sun had 

 the same effect as you now speak of.] I have not 

 observed them for the last few days. No doubt 

 they too, have family engagements to arrange; 

 and are gone to " see about it." We are daily 

 expecing the nightingale, blackcap, and other 

 warblers. But I must not continue gossiping at 

 this rate, or you will vote me a bore. When I sat 

 down to write, I seemed to have a multitude of 

 things to tell you. One half of them, at least, I 

 have omitted ! You can imagine me in my garden 

 — my " palace of delights "—and no doubt realise 

 in thought, what my naughty pen cannot reduce 

 (in few words) to writing. — Honeysuckle, Henley, 

 March 24. 



[You are such a favorite, dear Honeysuckle, 

 with our readers, that we can never use the knife 

 to prune away any offshoots proceeding from youi 

 happy fancy. Lovers of Nature, like yourself, are 

 not met with every day ; so prattle away when- 

 ever you will.] 



A Day in Devonshire. — It is one of the many 

 advantages belonging to the country over the 

 town, that in the former a day's recreation can be 

 obtained at a trifling expense; whilst the delight to 

 those who can appreciate the beauties of nature, 

 is infinitely greater. To the dweller in the great 

 metropolis, a day's pleasure involves a considerable 

 cost in locomotion; while the more fortunate resi- 

 dent in the country has a larger share of enjoy- 

 ment for less than the cost of a single meal at 

 London prices. Some time since, I was residing 

 in the suburbs of the ancient city of Exeter, the 

 capital of a most picturesque county, truly styled 

 " ^he Garden of England." In the glorious month 

 of September, I had a visit from a London cousin, 

 — a quiet steady man, who had seen nearly fifty 

 years of London life, and was the trustworthy 

 clerk of a celebrated banking diouse. He was out 

 for his autumn holiday. While closing one happy 

 day (with the addition to our small party of an 

 Exeter friend, the Dominie of a foundation school), 

 it was mutually agreed that the following day 

 should be devoted to an excursion to the romantic 

 scenery of the Teign. We were to start shortly 

 after daybreak ; ancl the place named for breakfast 

 was a well-known rendezvous for anglers, about 

 seven miles and a quarter distant. For myself, the 

 walk was only a pleasant exercise ; but my cousin, 

 being unused to climbing Devonshire hills, and 

 the Dominie being lame in one leg ( from an acci- 

 dent of old standing), they were tempted into 

 undertaking the journey by the doubtful promise 

 of a lift on the road being probable. Accordingly, 

 the trio started at six clock the next morning. 

 The sun rose gloriously — the day was all before 

 us; and as we ascended the hill from St.Thomas's, 



