KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



117 



of the young-eyed cherubim — not for me, 

 thank Heaven ! did those crippled children 

 become prematurely old ; and precociously 



EVAPORATE, LIKE SO MUCH STEAM POWER, 

 THE " DEW OF THEIR YOUTH." 



AN INVOCATION TO MARCH. 



BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 



Cold March ! I am glad thou art here ; 



I have anxiously waited for thee : 

 I knew thou would'st shortly appear, 



By the pretty green buds on the tree. 



I love thee, for thou dost beguile 



The darkness that hangs o'er the earth ; 



There's something so frank in thy smile, 

 So honest and sterling thy worth ! 



Thou art noisy and boist'rous, 'tis true ; 



But I know that thy heart is sincere ; 

 And I love thee, as one of the few 



Who are faithfully what they appear ! 



Thy breeze wafts the mariner home ; 



The flowing sail proudly expands : 

 And the bark nobly rides o'er the foam, 



With the produce of wealthier lands. 



I love thee, for thou dost renew 

 The joys that are dearest to me. 



To sorrow I'll bid an adieu, 



To roam with kind Nature — and thee. 



Oh, let us not linger an hour ; 



Sweet melody floats on the air : 

 And many a gay little flower 



Is smiling to banish our care. 



The meadows are spangled with gems, 



Looking timidly up to the sky ; 

 And primroses nod on their stems, 



As the cold northern blast passes by. 



They are waiting for Spring, gentle Spring, 

 To deck them in brighter array ; 



To sprinkle her dew-drops, and sing 

 The dark hours of Winter away. 



The children of Nature appear 



To anticipate happier days ; 

 The dear little roLin we hear 



Rehearsing his merriest lays. 



The wren, too, sings softly ; and hark ! 



A note of enchantment is heard ; 

 'Tis the sweet mellow song of the lark, 



As he carols his praises, — dear bird ! 



The thrush and the blackbird unite 

 In their gentle endeavors to please ; 



The squirrel is mad with delight, 



As he leaps from the boughs of the trees. 



I am glad, merry March, thou art here ; 



A rich store of joy thou dost bring : 

 The bright buds already appear, 



To WEAVE A GAY CHAPLET FOR SPRING. 



OUR JOURNAL" AND ITS LITTLE 

 TROUBLES. 



All jealousy 

 Must e'en be strangled in its birth ; or time 

 Will soon conspire to make it strong enough 

 To overcome the Tevth. 



Davenant. 



It is no secret to our readers, what we 

 have had to contend with in the establish- 

 ment of this their favorite Journal. We 

 have recorded our troubles, till we are as 

 sick of talking of them as our readers must 

 be of hearing them. There is, however, a 

 necessity for our once more re-opening the 

 question. Let us hope it will be final. 



It appears that the spirited manner in 

 which we have begun the New Year, and 

 the very large increasing demand for the 

 Journal — which now, thanks to our good 

 friends, " can no longer be hid" — has goaded 

 " the Trade" to madness. They thought to 

 have strangled us at Christmas ! But, like 

 the Phoenix, here we are again, rejoicing in 

 a new life ! — aye, more vigorous than ever. 



Our friends will remember, that the last 

 number of OUR Journal w T as published — as 

 it always will be, and always has been — two 

 days previous to " magazine day." It was 

 reported, however, in Paternoster Row, (the 

 grand book- mart,) to many of the country 

 booksellers, that it was "not out in time I" 

 Since then, it has been reported regularly as 

 " out of print ;" and " none of the back 

 numbers, parts, or volumes to be had," etc., 

 etc. Our subscribers are savage — naturally 

 savage ; and ask us what we have done to be 

 so treated ? Let us reply. "We have been too 

 good-natured ! 



W r e personally waited on " the Trade," at 

 first starting ; offered them the Journal on 

 the most liberal terms — volunteering to ex • 

 change them, if not sold, week by week, 

 month by month, or to give them a written 

 guarantee to purchase back, at the full prices, 

 any unsold copies at the end of the year.* 

 This was unheard-of liberality ; but listen 

 further, good friends : — 



AVe had the ill-fortune to be educated in 

 Paternoster Row. We were "articled" to 

 one of the largest firms there, in our boyhood. 

 We had ' dared" to withdraw from "the 

 Trade," in disgust. We had volunteered a 



* The newsvendors and dealers in periodicals, 

 not being legitimately known as " Booksellers," 

 received us very graciously for the most part, and 

 promised us their support. When, however, they 

 went to the "Row," and learned who we were, 

 it was ridiculous to observe their indifference and 

 ill-natm-e. Nobody would keep the Journal, or 

 show it ! We recorded our visit to these good 

 people, in vol. 1 of our Journal, page 65. The 

 article was entitled " Difficultv and Impossibility." 

 i —Ed. K. J. 



