KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



337 



MEETING AND PARTING. 



As letters some hand has invisibly trae'd, 



When held to the flame will steal out to the sight ; 



So, many a feeling that long seem'd effae'd, 



When loving friends meet are brought sweetly to light. 



Moore. 



I never spoke the word,—" Farewell ! " 

 But with an utterance faint and broken ; 

 A heart-sick yearning for the time 

 When it should never more be spoken. 



Caroline Bowles. 



UR WELL-BELOYED READERS 



/ljr&^r^ — A GOODLY NUMBER — HARD- 



fW\w\fc*m. LY NEED BE REMINDED OF 



THE TIME WHEN THEY AND 



OURSELF FIRST MET. That 



was " a golden day in the 

 calendar," — an event never 

 to be forgotten by us, nor by 

 them. We dare avow as much; for we hold 

 proofs innumerable, traced in letters of black 

 on white, that there exists between us and our 

 correspondents one heart — one mind — one 

 interest. Here is something to rejoice in. 



We have now travelled on in sweet com- 

 pany together, until our collected thoughts, 

 carefully noted down, have occupied the bulk 

 of five handsome volumes.* Often do we 

 find ourself poring over the leaves of some of 

 these ; and as often, if truth be spoken, may 

 a pleasing smile be seen to play upon our 

 features. This smile is not the less " expres- 

 sive," from the happy belief that our labors 

 are not doomed to slumber in oblivion. There 

 is nothing ephemeral in what has been sung 

 or said. It was good, it is eood, it vnll be 

 good for ages. We speak not at all of our 

 own performances — assuredly not ; but of the 

 vast mass of contributions which have come 

 ready to our hand, to immortalise our pages — 

 these, too, from the best and choicest spirits 

 of the world we live in.f 



If we have any pride about us, — and we 



* It would be an act of culpable neglect, did 

 we fail to note here the very kind assistance we 

 have ever met with from our brethren of the press. 

 They have made, month after month, week after 

 week, copious extracts from our pages, and given 

 them a world-wide popularity. We would not be 

 invidious; yet must we specially thank the 

 Editors of the Hampshire Advertiser, and Liver- 

 pool Mercury, for their unwearied endeavors to 

 serve us. This, from purely disinterested motives. 



f All labors of love are amply requited, when 

 any great known good has been accomplished. 

 In this matter, Our Journal stands pre-eminent. 

 It has been the direct means, in a number of 

 instances, of working quite a reformation in the 

 hearts of certain people who before held the most 

 lax notions with regard to this world and the next. 

 They are now as disinterested and free, as for- 

 merly they were selfish and constrained. This 

 is the magic we like to practise; and as Our 

 Journal is found in nearly every corner of the 

 world, let us hope that its influence is becoming, 

 daily, more and more powerful. 



all have " some " weak point, — it is the pride 

 we feel at having " won " our way to public 

 favor, — and that, through an antagonism of 

 Booksellers and "the Trade/' unparalleled, 

 perhaps, in the whole history of literature. 

 Our pecuniary loss has been indeed fearful. 

 We are not going, however, to sing a sorrowful 



song about that, to-day. Oh no ! Our 



triumph over " envy, hatred, malice, and all 

 uncharitableness," has been a signal one. 

 We forgive our enemies right frankly, and 

 hope that, at last, they will condescend to read 

 what, in its progress, they have so long and 

 so virulently abused by word of mouth. 

 '• Anger resteth only in the bosom of a fool." 

 We have been angry, — very. That anger 

 resteth not with us. We are to-day, and 

 mean to continue (d.v.), "mild as a moon- 

 beam ; " for we have lots of promised visits 

 to pay, and lots of sweet faces waiting to 

 greet us all over the country. 



These few preliminary remarks bring us to 

 a " great fact." We to-day close our 

 fifth volume; and with it, we feel com- 

 pelled to close also our labors for the present. 

 Our friends and readers well know, from 

 several " hints " we have from time to time 

 thrown out, that the entire weight of the com- 

 mercial and literary departments of Our 

 Journal have devolved on ourself alone. 

 In plain language, the work of at least six 

 active persons has, ever since we launched 

 our bark, been faithfully, scrupulously, 

 and exactly performed by one individual.* 

 This may be doubted by some, — but we re- 

 assert it fearlessly ; and having no printing- 

 office of our own, the labor has been thereby 

 more than quadrupled. Details are not 

 requisite. We have fairly stated our case in 

 few words. 



The exertions we have alluded to, very 

 naturally begin now to affect our constitution; 

 and more particularly our brain. We need 

 quiet and repose. The horrible noises ground 

 out of the bowels of certain organs (so called) 

 by gigantic Italians, just below our window, 

 (twenty times a day at least) ; the indescri- 

 bable tortures inflicted on our nervous system 

 by the stentorian lungs of passing coster- 

 mongers, &c, &c, &c, bawling out the w r ares 

 in which they traffic — these, and certain other 

 legalised street nuisances, uniting in " con- 

 cert pitch," are too many for us to stand up 

 against. Our natural disposition is, — pla- 

 cidity, an even temperament, and an habitual 

 u happy " frame of mind. These, if we con- 

 tinue our labors, will be fearfully jeopardised. 

 Our mind, therefore, is made up. 



* The actual private correspondence in connec- 

 tion with Our Journal, is alone sufficient to keep 

 one person constantly occupied. This will give 

 some idea of the gigantic whole. Twelve hours 

 per day is our average occupation. To be cheerful, 

 amiable, and jolly under this regime, is " trying !" 



Vol. V.— 22. 



