KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



347 



was next morning found tethered to the branches 

 of a pear-tree growing nearly in contact with the 

 wall, quite dead. 



This bird sometimes leaves its young to perish 

 in the nest, should it unfortunately have a late 

 brood, not fledged in time to migrate with the 

 others, when they leave in September. We once 

 witnessed a distressing case where the abandoned 

 family suffered a slow death by starvation. It 

 was really painful to see the little creatures after 

 their parents had gone, protruding their round 

 sooty faces, and plaintively cheeping for food. 

 Their cradle served them as a tomb; and next 

 year, the old birds finding the skeletons difficult to 

 remove, built another nest on their remains. 



In addition to the species whose habits we have 

 in part attempted to describe, we have to record 

 the supposed appearance, in our locality, of the 

 Alpine Swift [C. AJpinus); but we are sorry that 

 what we have to relate of it is of a very unsatis- 

 factory nature. From our Journal, it appears to 

 have been on the 22nd of May, 1847, when this 

 bird "met our astonished gaze. " Our attention 

 was riveted in a moment to it, as it hawked for 

 prey above a range of stables early in the morning 

 of that day; and from that hour we resolved, if 

 possible, to get hold of it.[!] For three successive 

 days and evenings, we saw it occasionally in the 

 same neighborhood, flying in company with other 

 Swifts; and having got ready a charge of small 

 shot, we took as determined a stand against it as 

 any misguided or cruel collector of British rarities 

 ev«r did. Many an upward look did we indulge in, 

 waiting a chance to bring it down ; now it would 

 poise at an altitude of 80 yards, or thereabouts, and 

 again dash off at lightning speed, while its white 

 breast glanced in the light — the very phenomenon 

 that gave eagerness to our designs on its person. 

 Then it would return again, and hang on almost 

 motionless wing above us at the same respectful 

 distance, until some shrill scream from one of its 

 darker companions gave the signal for a change. 

 But, shy though it was, its doom was fixed ; we 

 shot it as it glanced athwart a chimney top — a 

 most unfortunate moment! Now, cried we, for 

 the decision ; but alas ! it was swallowed in the 

 jaws of the gaping funnel, and was seen no more. 

 It had actually fallen down the wide-mouthed 

 chimney of an unoccupied house, whence it was 

 impossible to recover it. We could in our turn 

 do nothing but give vent to our regret, that our 

 winged prey had in this way cheated our hopes. 

 There were besides, the unpleasant doubts about 

 its species, connected with its sudden and un- 

 looked-for disappearance, which heightened the 

 loss. Color alone induced the question, Alpinus 

 or Apus ? and in our mortified enthusiasm we 

 could only answer — " Too black, and yet too 

 white !" 



"Like spirits of a middle sort, 

 Who dropt just half-way down, nor lower fell." 



DEYDEX. 



A humane man this, so to gloat over his 

 indefensible, heartless brutality! We won- 

 der if he has any family. We hope not. 

 Shame upon him ! cry we. We seem to " im- 

 prove" in everything but humanity. In this, 

 we are centuries behind other nations. We 

 glory, too, in our acts of savage cruelty ! 



The Voices of Nature to her Foster 

 Child, the Soul of Man. By George 

 B. Cheever, D D. William Collins. 



We have, in another part of Our Journal, 



spoken about the delights of Meditation. 

 All who agree in the spirit of what we have 

 said, should take this book with them when 

 they ramble abroad. It is full of subjects 

 for meditating upon, and may be profitably 

 consulted by young and old. Cheever is a 

 delightful companion. 



Few of us are aware of the analogies 

 existing between the natural and spiritual 

 worlds. Here they are brought vividly before 

 us; and a train of reasoning is grounded 

 thereon that is more than interesting. 



The crowded state of our columns prevents 

 our giving extracts ; but we feel sure that our 

 recommendation will carry weight with it. 



The author is very impressive throughout, 

 on a subject that we cannot too much dwell 

 upon. — viz. the importance of circumspection, 

 whilst disseminating our opinions publicly. 

 A word spoken, or printed, has sped on its 

 way, for good or evil, all over the world. It 

 cannot be recalled. Think on this, — heads of 

 families. 



It were well for us all to reflect on it ; for 

 we are every one of us morally answerable 

 for the " consequences " of our expressed 

 thoughts, as well as for the example we set 

 in our daily habits of life. 



A fearful responsibility awaits those who 

 disregard this friendly warning ; and our 

 "last words" shall speak emphatically on 

 this point, so little considered amongst us. 



Poetry of 

 Musings. 

 Co. 



a Day, &c. — Workshop 

 By A. Maudslay. Kent & 



Who says that a journeyman shoemaker 

 has no soul — that he cannot love God— that 

 he cannot sing sweetly as any bird ? If any 

 one there be, sceptical on this matter, let him 

 listen to two pieces of music, taken at ran- 

 dom from the repertoire of A. Maudslay i — 



LOVE IN NATURE. 



Nature is full of love — yea, all things speak 

 Of it, from the bright host of stars that, night 

 By night, like an embattled army, march 

 Around the world, down to the meanest flower 

 That scents the morning wind. Sometimes it 



darts 

 Across the soul, as a bright sunbeam darts 

 Across a tranquil lake, when the young morn 

 With jewell'd feet trips o'er the eastern hills ; 

 At other times, like a sweet melody, 

 It lingers round the heart, and brings a joy 

 Sweet as itself — a joy so sweetly pure, 

 In sooth, that we forget our grosser life, 

 And have each thought and passion so sublimed, 

 So fill'd with an ethereal buoyancy, 

 That almost to our conscious selves we seem 

 A winged tone in that unutter'd song 



