KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



159 



with a healthy appetite, your cheeks glowing with 

 Nature's kisses, your breath exhaling aromatic 

 perfume, and your eyes glistening with delight at 

 what you have seen and heard. 



Tell your tale to such of the family as come 

 crawling down, with their eyes half open, at eight 

 o'clock ; and mark the contrast. Tliey will eat 

 listlessly without an appetite ; sip their tea yawn- 

 ing, without a relish; flirt with the "provocatives" 

 which are hardly touched ; whilst you will eye 

 every delicacy with delight, find a rich flavor in 

 every crisp curl of thin, frizzled bacon, and go 

 through all the delectable performances of the 

 breakfast-table with a gusto that is perfectly en- 

 viable. 



This is what we prescribe. These are our rules 

 for health during the month of April. Those who 

 prefer physic and a long " doctor's bill," can have 

 them by sending for. " It is an ill wind that blows 

 nobody any good !" 



THE TYBANT— « FASHION." 



Fashion ! the leader of a chattering train, 

 Whom man for his own hurt permits to reign ; 

 Who shifts and changes all things but his shape, 

 And would degrade his votary to an ape. 



Cowpee. 



Ours being a Journal of " Nature," par excel- 

 lence, it will hardly be a matter for surprise if, now 

 and then, we should come into contact with her 

 sworn foe — Fashion. 



We shall not weary ourself by attacking this 

 monster in all its strongholds , albeit we do now 

 and then get up a laugh when we see its votaries 

 so blindly led by the nose, and living such a purely 

 artificial existence. Eating, drinking, sleeping, 

 deforming the body, shopping, lounging, strolling, 

 riding, driving, yawning, paying complimentary 

 visits, receiving ditto, gossiping, talking scandal, 

 and other such ephemeral passe-temps, unceasingly 

 occupy the eventful lives of our west-end folk, and 

 the inhabitants of our squares. We tumble over 

 some of them daily, as we pursue our more 

 " useful " but more humble occupation. What 

 see we, as we trip along ? Carriages decked with 

 ladies and lap-dogs ; fine, showy, painted, and 

 made-up women, marching along the streets, fol- 

 lowed by lazy, strapping men in plush ; younger 

 ditto, followed by hectic or dyspeptic Pages, faced 

 with gilt mushroom buttons, &c, &c. In fact, 

 silks and satins, finery and bombast, carry all 

 before them at the west. " 'Tis true, 'tis pity ; 

 pity 'tis, 'tis true ! " 



Then, what a pretty tale do our bazaars, pan- 

 theons, and exhibitions tell us, of the wearisome 

 " duties " of a fashionable or " genteel " life ! How 

 terribly are the frequenters of these " decoys " put 

 to it, to show a happy face ! Indeed, they turn 

 their faces so completely away from Nature, that 

 her ladyship forbids their being happy. She is 

 right. Two single days of this unmeaning round 

 of fashion's follies, would finish us up completely. 

 Let us be thankful that our lot is cast in a more 

 rational mould, and that we live in a purer at- 

 mosphere — moreover, not for ourself, but for others. 

 Whilst these dead-weights — these very drones of 

 society, are eking out their days in the mad 

 pursuit of folly, be it ours to rival the bees in pro- 



curing good mental food for our much-loved 

 readers. Life will thus be rendered sweet. Time 

 will not " hang " on our hands, but our moments 

 will be one round of harmless delights. 



The superficiality of the world we live in, few 

 can be strangers to. We live not for ourselves, 

 but for a set of idle, well-dressed people, who 

 judge of us by our external deportment. The 

 world seems to enjoy this empty parade — this 

 unceasing round of daily ceremonies. They sigh, 

 no doubt, when alone, for it must be hard work to 

 live a life of hypocrisy ; but the mask is soon re- 

 placed, and the farce again in full operation. We 

 have said that we sometimes " get up a laugh " 

 when we see these poor victims of fashion doing 

 their drudgery. We repeat it ; yet is it a laugh 

 of pit y rather than of anger. 



We repudiate all intention of being " ill-natured" 

 in these remarks of ours. We rather wish so to 

 " hold the Mirror up to Nature," that we may 

 show Vice her own features, and exhibit them in 

 all their naked deformity. Fashionable and 

 "genteel" people never "think," — it is impos- 

 sible.* They must be " different " from all the 

 world, or they will lose caste. Theirs is not fine 

 feeling, properly so called ; but an " exclusive " 

 feeling of superiority, recognised by no denomi- 

 nation of well-bred people, save their own pecu- 

 liar " set." All below them are considered bar- 

 barians, and are treated as such. Benignant 

 Nature takes notes of all these matters, and with- 

 holds from this branch of her children the charm 

 of "happiness." They lie down in weariness, 

 and they rise up in listless indifference. 



One thing there is, existing in the fashionable 

 and so-called " genteel " world, that we cannot 

 comprehend. We mean the lax system that 

 almost universally prevails in evening dress. 

 Women, young and old, who would be thought 

 paragons of modesty during the day, at night 

 appear unabashed in a state of semi-nudity. They 

 evidently consider themselves, when thus attired, 

 irresistibly attractive. They may be pseonies ; 

 but they are not violets nor daisies. When we 

 see these full-blown giant flowers courting admi- 

 ration, we feel sick at heart, and seek a solace in 

 those of gentler mien. The " rose-bud " for us, in 

 preference to the cabbage rose : — 



" Some maidens coy, with anxious care conceal 



The snowy breast beneath the envied gauze ; 

 But you more freely every charm reveal, 



Scorning to be restrained by modest laws. 

 Thanks for your kindness, gentle fair ; but learn 



That when we see the rose o'erblown in you, 

 We gaze not — but with sweet attraction turn 



To yonder rose, HALF-open to the view." 



Our fashionable ladies will, in defiance of the 

 poet, tell us that this is quite a matter of opinion, 

 and that we are over-fastidious. We may be 

 " singular," perhaps ; but we do love common 

 modesty. Nor can we see any just reason why 

 women should not " assume a virtue if they have 

 it not." It were a harmless deceit, and readily 

 pardonable. 



* We have a perfect hatred for the word " gen- 

 teel" — so lamentably is it prostituted in its ac- 

 cepted use ! — Ed. K. J. 



