KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



59 



he, " there stand the dew-drops gloriously re-set 

 — a glittering jewellery — in the heavens ; and the 

 clownish foot tramples on them no more. By this, 

 my child, thou art taught, what withers upon the 

 earth blooms again in heaven.' Thus the father 

 spoke, and knew not that he spoke prefiguring 

 words ; for soon after the delicate child, with the 

 morning brightness of his early wisdom, was ex- 

 haled, like a dew-drop, into heaven." — How many 

 of these " delicate, prematurely wise children" 

 live but to die ! How many of their gentle spirits 

 are broken, by the gross ignorance and wicked- 

 ness of their parents in training them up in a 

 "wrong way!" How soon is the innocence of 

 childhood seduced into the paths of sin ! — 

 Nannette. 



[Most true, Nannette ! Let us echo your senti- 

 ment from pole to pole. The " innocence of child- 

 hood," now-a-days, is a mis-nomer. The " inno- 

 cence" of children is reckoned of no moment. On 

 the contrary, pains unceasing are taken to 

 make them precociously forward. The " conse- 

 quences," alas, we all daily suffer from !] 



The Shrike, or Great Butcher-bird, — A very 

 fine specimen of this rare bird was shot a short 

 time since, near St. Catharine's Hill, by Mr. W. 

 H. Bayent. It was observed the day previous, 

 hovering at a great height ; but it was inaccessible 

 from its extreme shyness. On beating about early 

 next morning, the bird was fortunately flushed 

 within distance, and brought down. It is worthy 

 of note, that the shot in no way injured the plum- 

 age of the bird. One shot only, had taken effect ; 

 and that one pierced the brain. The bird, which 

 is a most beautiful one, is stuffed. — L., Winchester. 



A Seasonable Hint, — The Oak. — The oak, Mr. 

 Editor, is a noble tree, and you will agree with me, 

 the more we have of them the better. Let us 

 try, and add to their number. There is "reason" 

 in it. The far-famed Admiral Collingwood thus 

 speaks of the "brave old oak," in a letter dated 

 " The Dreadnought, off Ushant," in 1805: "If 

 the country gentlemen do not make it a point to 

 plant oaks wherever they will grow, the time will 

 not be far distant when, to keep up our navy, we 

 must depend entirely on captures from our enemy. 

 You will be . surprised to hear that most of the 

 trees which were used in the Hibernia were taken 

 from the Spanish ships captured on the 14th of 

 February, and what they could not furnish was 

 supplied by iron. I wish every one thought on 

 this subject as I do — they would not walk through 

 their farms without a handful of acorns to drop on 

 the hedge-sides to let them take their chance." 

 Every thing we see, Mr. Editor, is in favor of the 

 oak. Therefore, I say again, let us keep adding 

 to their number. — Quercus. 



A Laurel bewitched. — No little surprise, Mr. 

 Editor, has been excited here (Worcester), by the 

 appearance of something extraordinary in a 

 laurel tree. All the professed wise heads who 

 have come to examine the matter, have gone away 

 dumb-founded. Even John, the gardener, a 

 knowing fellow in his way, shrugs up his shoulders, 

 and exclaims in true Worcester phraseology, 

 "I never seed the likes of him!" Now this king 

 of spades, having had but limited opportunities for 



observation, I will get you or some of your corres- 

 pondents, to tell me whether this is a parasitic 

 plant, or whether it is attacked by disease ? How 

 shall I describe it ? There is but one way, and it 

 shall be an original way, i. e., straightforward. 

 The branch which is attacked is tolerably thick. 

 The bark has split in all directions, and the whole 

 of the upper part is covered with (what appears like 

 an army of) meal-worms, — all busily intent upon 

 moving downwards, and scrambling one over the 

 other, helter-skelter. The growth of these has 

 been rapid. Outwardly, let me remark, the tree 

 has proved itself of the world — worldly. It has, 

 like the world's inhabitants, kept up appearances 

 while "sick at heart." Till closely examined, it 

 would seem to be healthy and vigorous. — Pris- 

 cilla, Worcester. 



[Well done, excellent Priscilla ! you raise an 

 interesting question, and "point a moral" at the 

 same time. Enrol yourself from to-day " as one of 

 us." We shall turn your talent to a profitable 

 account. We have not, ourself, met with a case 

 similar to the one you mention ; but we have no 

 doubt some of our readers will soon come to your 

 aid, and solve the riddle.] 



The Robin, a Cage Bird. — You have im- 

 mortalised the Robin, Mr. Editor, in our Journal, 

 and he deserves all you have said of him. I too 

 am blessed with one of the most splendid speci- 

 mens of the tribe. I do not mean to say as to 

 beauty. No ! my pet is the ugliest of a nest of 

 five (four of which are now dead). His head is 

 over-large ; his beak, too, slightly malformed, and 

 it does not close properly. This, however, goes 

 for nothing. Master Bob is intelligence itself. 

 Whether it be day-light, candle-light, morn, noon, 

 or night, all is one to him. He knows my foot- 

 fall ; he catches my slightest whisper. Either 

 will call forth from him, at all times, a joyous, 

 rolling song. The same if he is in-doors, and I 

 am in the garden. Sympathy unites us as by an 

 electric wire. He is the pet of the family, of 

 course ; his price beyond rubies. I always caress 

 him, or he would pay me off for it ; and when I 

 give tid-bits to my other favorites, he must be 

 first served ! To tell you all his endearments, 

 and all the games we have together, would occupy 

 too much of your space. Suffice it to say, his 

 love for me is extraordinary indeed ! As for his 

 song, it is indescribably rich. It is partly the 

 natnral song of a sweet-song robin — the remaining 

 notes are superb imitations of snatches of music 

 performed by German bands, who often perform 

 under my window. Will you come down and 

 hear him ? How glad I shall be to see you ! — 

 R. B., Winchester. 



[You have indeed a treasure in your red- 

 breasted little friend ! These birds are very 

 subject to " fits ; " beware, therefore, of giving 

 him too much live food when in confinement. 

 Bread and egg, cheese, moistened bread and 

 butter (very little butter) ; a spider or two, an 

 earwig, or a few ants (in the season), will keep 

 him hale and hearty. Don't slight him. These 

 are very jealous birds. One act of neglect might 

 keep him " silent " for ever ! We have had two 

 or three birds exactly like this " Prince of Robins." 

 We did, as you do, make much of them. Alas ! 

 they are now dead! We have, however, plenty 



