

KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



193 



THE BRIGHT SIDE CF NATURE. 



The morn is up again,— the dewy morn, 

 With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, 



Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, 

 And living as if earth contain'd no tomb,— 



And glowing into day. 



Bykon. 



Hence, bashful cunning ! 

 And prompt me, plain and holy Innocence. 



Shakspiake. 



nr^gQ^lW VERY ONE AMONGST US IS 



'W^SteiJi ENTITLED T0 FREEDOM OF 

 THOUGHT, AND FREEDOM OF 



SPEECH. In this matter, ours is 

 a land of liberty. Whilst, there- 

 fore, we marvel greatly at the 

 expressed thoughts of the many, 

 we claim the right to differ 

 from them in sentiment, and to declare our 

 opinion, with our usual frankness. 



The world we live in is a complete puzzle 

 to us. Its inhabitants seem, for the most 

 part, unwilling to be happy. They are for 

 ever grumbling; never satisfied, quarrelling 

 with ali the bountiful provisions of Provi- 

 dence, and always preferring to look on " the 

 night side of nature." Mrs. Crowe has written 

 a book bearing this very title ; and, a pretty 

 picture she has drawn of darkness visible ! 

 Let those read it who will ; and whilst the} 7- 

 fatten on the noxious weeds that grow freely 

 in the poisonous atmosphere of their morbid 

 imaginations and depraved heatts, we will 

 examine '• the cloud with the silver lining," 

 which, passing lightly over our heads with 

 an occasionally-oppressive shadow, yet anon 

 bursts upon us with a radiance that rills us 

 wilh rejoicing. The- light and shade that! 

 attend our path through life, are mercifully 

 allowed to alternate ; so as to keep us in our 

 proper position. Mankind are not consti- 

 tuted to bear, patiently, either prosperity or 

 adversity in excess. We see lamentable 

 proofs of this daily ; and can join heartily 

 in the prayer of the good man, who said, — 

 "Give me neither poverty nor riches! " It 

 is a safe aspiration ; and no doubt that prayer 

 was truly acceptable in the sight of God. 



The subject we have selected to gossip 

 upon. — for we dare not go deeply into it, is 

 one in which, as a philanthropist, we feel 

 great'y interested. In our wanderings hither 

 and thither, — in town, out of town, from 

 family to family, in public and in private, — 

 we find everywhere prevailing a restless 

 spirit of dissatisfaction. No person appears 

 to be in a state of repose. There seems to 

 be no desire to live to make one another 

 happy. Selfishness all but universally pre- 

 vails ; whilst ill-natured remarks banish 

 benevolence from the bosom. All life is a 

 deception. The love of gold holds men in 

 its iron grasp. Brothers and sisters are we 

 in name, yet little better than heathens in 



heart.* Every day declares it. Sympathy ! 

 Where is it ? 



Philosophy would be puzzled to give any 

 defined reason for all this. The clergy tell 

 us, the human heart is naturally depraved 

 and desperately wicked. It would indeed 

 seem so ! Others assure us that the Prince 

 of Darkness is for ever assaulting us in our 

 weakest points, and that we are unable to 

 resist his influence, — that we are at best but 

 poor creatures, and easily overcome, &c, &c. 

 Thus do some reconcile their consciences to 

 the performance of " what they cannot help," 

 whilst others morbidly grovel among the 

 quicksands of Fate, Destiny, and other 

 fallacious doctrines. At last, the grave con- 

 vinces them (too late) of their error. They 

 die ; are forgotten ; and tens of thousands 

 follow on in their steps. 



What most excites our surprise, and rouses 

 our anger, is, — that the people of whom we 

 speak profess to worship one God, and ac- 

 knowledge the Sacred Volume as their " rule 

 of life ;" whereas all they do is a complete 

 contradiction to its wholesome precepts, and 

 their lives are in direct opposition to the Great 

 Example for which they express (in words) 

 such profound reverence ! So much for the 

 " dark side" of nature, — a picture but too 

 familiar to all who are given to reflection. 



But what of the " bright side of nature ?" 

 What indeed ! No tongue can tell, no pen 

 can describe, what yet an honest heart can 

 feel of the many things that are worth living 

 for. It was never intended that we should 

 lead a vain, idle, unprofitable life. That we 

 should be selfish in our enjoyments, exclusive 

 in our feelings, and distant in our approaches 

 towards each other. Assuredly not. We 

 have been harping upon this string for a num- 

 ber of years ; and not without the happiest 

 results ; for our pen has been eloquent 

 enough to make many a convert to our 

 opinion. " Odd" as our sentiments were 

 considered at first, — a constant perusal of 

 them from time to time has had the desired 

 effect. We live in the hearts of many, — ■ 

 formerly strangers, but strangers no longer ; 

 and they also live in our heart. They will 

 die there, — to live again let us fondly hope, 

 in a better world, where there will be no 

 separation. 



Something the heart must have to cherish, 

 Must love, and joy, and sorrow learn ; 



* There are few of us to whom that noble 

 allegory, the " Pilgrim's Progress" is unknown. 

 Do our readers remember the surprise of "Pil- 

 grim " on beholding a miser raking in a gutter, 

 on the chance of finding something of menu value, 

 — an angel the while offering him a crown of 

 gold? He would not "look up;" he preferred 

 the use of the muck-rake. Is not our world full 

 of these wretched, grovelling men? 



Vol. V.- 13. 



