KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



LITTLE KINDNESSES. 



As welcome as sunshine 



In ever 5 r place, 

 Is the beaming approach. 



Of a good-natur'd face. 



As genial as sunshine, 

 Like warmth to impart, 



Is a good-natur'd deed 

 From a good-natur'd heart. 



Under the heading of " Little Kind- 

 nesses," v/e ventured a few seasonable remarks 

 at the close of our last year's volume. Little 

 did we imagine, whilst penning those remarks, 

 that so many of our readers were in the pos- 

 session of our thoughts, and that we shared 

 those thoughts in common ! Sympathy is 

 indeed indescribable, — in its fountain and in 

 its streams. 



We are under obligations innumerable, — 

 albeit they are pleasing obligations, to the 

 many kind individuals who have not let the 

 season of Christmas pass by without assisting, 

 most liberally, in the decoration of our table; 

 and in substantially providing us with regal 

 fare to keep up the prevailing festivities with 

 all due honor. 



From all parts of the country, testimonials 

 of gratitude for little services professionally 

 rendered by us, have flowed in like a river. 

 We name this under a general head, in order 

 that one tribute of thankful acknowledgment 

 may be accorded to all. We never could 

 make a speech " under such circumstances ;" 

 and we shall most assuredly not attempt to 

 do so now. 



Among the assembled offerings was " one," 

 most delicately conveyed. It reached us 

 just before Christmas. It was franked 

 throughout, and forwarded anonymously. On 

 a sheet of paper, in a most loveable hand- 

 writing, were penned these words: — " For the 

 Editor. From a grateful friend — wishing 

 the Editor and his family a merry Christmas 

 and a happy New Year." The" present" was 

 a noble, snow-white bird, sacred to Christmas, 

 weighing some eighteen pounds. A neat 

 label notified that it had ceased to live, three 

 days previously ; and a ticket showed that it 

 had travelled on the Southampton Railway. 

 This offering of gratitude delighted us. The 

 bird was not packed in the usual way. It 

 had evidently occupied some little time in 

 its preparation. It was placed (so neatly !) 

 in a rush basket ; and the sewing, it needed 

 no prophet to tell us, was leisurely performed 

 by a little hand which felt a secret pleasure 

 every time the needle was inserted and with- 

 drawn. We repeat we know not the donor ; 

 but we rejoice in feeling that we are remem- 

 bered by "one," with whom time, perhaps, 

 will make us better acquainted. A tribute 

 thus paid can never be forgotten, — it were 

 impossible. 



We were becoming melancholy at the 



close of the year, — despairing, perhaps, lest, 

 after all, our enterprise should fall to the 

 ground. When, however, we found ourself 

 such a general object of regard, and ex- 

 perienced such overwhelming and convincing 

 proofs that our Journal had so won its 

 way to favor, — creeping into the very hearts 

 of our readers, we took fresh courage, and 

 feel at the present time that there are those 

 interested in our success who will never 

 slumber nor sleep till we are placed beyond 

 the reach of danger. 



We have labored hard — very hard, to 

 create a brotherly and a sisterly feeling 

 among mankind generally. It has indeed 

 been up-hill work ! Our three-halfpenny 

 readers positively derided us for our senti- 

 ments, and with drew from our standard. It 

 was "natural," perhaps — yet rather unkind. 

 But let it pass. 



Our present body guard are of a very 

 different order. They tell us, frankly, they 

 could not expect us to write, nor could they 

 be satisfied to read anything we had written, 

 unless they knew that we were, at all events, 

 protected from actual loss. This is manly, 

 fair, and just. We love such sentiments. 



The year 1852 has not passed without 

 affording us many opportunities for noticing 

 how much real good may be effected by 

 kindness, — and that, in a multitude of little 

 ways. The hollo wness of " the world we live 

 in," deadens those latent feelings that only 

 want a fitting occasion to show themselves ; and 

 people, naturally kind, loving, and sociable, are 

 by circumstances rendered too often callous, 

 indifferent, and morose. They find no echo to 

 their own sentiments, become misanthropical, 

 and turn their backs upon society with 

 disgust. These are the people after whom 

 we seek. We have picked up many of them 

 already, and they have become polished j ewels. 

 More, — many more, we trust, are yet to be 

 found. Our pen shall search them out. 



Kindness begets kindness, and sincerity of 

 heart creates love. Love, when once born, 

 never dies. We have set ourselves a task to 

 prove this. We will prove it, if we live. 



JOY,— EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL. 



He who, to the best of his power, has secured 

 the final stake, has a fons perennis (a perpetual 

 fount) of joy within him. He is satisfied from 

 himself. They, his reverse, borrow all from 

 without. 



Joy, wholly from without, is false, precarious, 

 and short. From without, it may be gathered ; 

 but, like gathered flowers, though fair and sweet 

 for a season, it must soon wither and become 

 offensive. 



Joy, from within, is like smelling the rose on 

 the tree. It is more sweet and fair. It is lasting ; 

 and I must add, it is immortal. 



Young. 



