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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



tall, athletic man, with broad shoulders and 

 chest, and prodigiously muscular limbs. His 

 face was magnificent; his hair, which he 

 wore long and flowing, fell round his massive 

 features like a lion's mane, to which, indeed, 

 it was often compared, being much of the 

 same hue. His lips were always working, 

 while his grey flashing eyes had a weird look 

 which was highly characteristic. In his 

 dress he was singularly slovenly, being, 

 except on state occasions, attired in a 

 threadbare suit of clothes, often rent, his 

 shirts frequently buttonless, and his hat of 

 the description anciently called shocking. 



His professorial costume was just as odd. 

 His gown, as he stalked along the College 

 terraces, flew in tattered stripes behind 

 him ; and, altogether, Professor Wilson, 

 with all his genius, was personally one of 

 the most eccentric of the many eccentric 

 characters existing in his day in the Scottish 

 metropolis. He continued in the Chair of 

 Moral Philosophy till the close of the session 

 of 1850-51, when advancing years and declin- 

 ing health compelled him to resign. Rest 

 and retirement brought, however, little 

 relief, and he has gradually sunk into the 

 grave, to be honored and regretted wherever 

 the English language is known. 



THE FEMALE FIGURE. 



THE SKYLARK. 



BY FREDERICK TENNYSON. 



How the blithe lark runs up the golden stair 



That leads thro'cloudy gates from Heaven toearth, 

 And, all alone in the empyreal air, 



Fills it with jubilant sweet sounds of mirth ! 

 How far he seems, how far, 



With the light upon his wings ! 

 Is it a bird, or star 



That shines, and sings ? 



What matter if the days be dark and frore ? 



That sunbeam tells of other days to be ; 

 And singing in the light that floods him o'er, 

 In joy he overtakes futurity. 



Under cloud-arches vast 



He peeps, and sees behind 

 Great summer coming fast 

 Adown the wind ! 



And now he dives into a rainbow's rivers, 



In streams of gold and purple he is drown'd, 

 Shrilly the arrows of his song he shivers, 



As tho' the stormy drops were turned to sound ; 

 And now he issues through, 



He scales a cloudy tower, 

 Faintly, like falling dew, 

 His fast notes shower. 



Let every wind be hush'd, that I may hear 



The wondrous things he tells the world below : 

 Things that we dream of, he is watching near; 

 Hopes that we never dream'd he would bestow, 

 Alas ! the storm hath roll'd 

 Back the gold gates again, 

 Or surely he had told 

 » All Heaven to men ! 



Woman is the lesser man. 



Tennyson. 



Tennyson is a rash fellow, to make the above 

 assertion. Dressed as women are now, and 

 with fronts of brass, how can he affirm they 

 are smaller than men ? They are far too 

 expansive in bulk for one to attempt to get 

 near them; and as for looking at them, they 

 would stare us quite out of countenance 

 were we to attempt such a thing. Our 

 modesty, therefore, "turns abashed away." 

 If they be men, they are large men ! 



To get a peep at the delicate, noble, and 

 real shape of a woman is a delightful rarity. 

 When we say the real shape, we mean the 

 natural shape ; to conceal and distort which 

 appears to have been woman's sole aim for 

 countless years past. Her success has 

 been complete ! 



Apropos of this subject, — curiosity 

 induced us recently to pay a visit to 

 Madame Fontaine's establishment in Jermyn 

 Street. Madame Fontaine, or rather 

 Madame Vallotton (for she needs not be 

 ashamed of her name), received us very 

 courteously. Her physiognomy won our 

 heart in an instant. 



The object of our call was to investigate 

 certain claims put forth by this lady, 

 wherein she avers that she can, by means of 

 certain corsets (aptly termed plastiques), 

 enable a symmetrical person to enjoy uninter- 

 rupted health. Such a combination of the 

 utile and the dulce being something out of 

 the common way, our attention was of 

 course arrested ; and we gladly report, pro 

 bono, what we saw. 



This we can do in few words. There are 

 always kept in stock eight distinct sizes of 

 corsets. These are numbered, consecutively, 

 1, 2, 3, &c. There are also no fewer than 

 eighteen varieties of each size ; one and all 

 adapted for immediate alteration, so as to Jit 

 exactly any woman, of any size, or any shape. 

 When adjusted on the person, the whole 

 figure is flexible, the spine free, the lungs 

 unoppressed, and all the functions of the 

 body at full liberty to act as God ever in- 

 tended they should act. All this ; and, in 

 addition, an elegant figure. It is not our 

 province to unfold the simple mystery of how 

 this is done. 



Our interview with Madame Vallotton was 

 not a long one. She was too much occupied 

 to be able to afford us much time for gossip ; 

 but an honest grip of her hand at parting, 

 must have convinced her that we regarded her 

 as a public benefactor. 



We do not despair yet of saving the lives 

 of many women, who are at present madly 

 bent on the suicide, — if not of themselves, 

 at all events of their children unborn. 



