KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



199 



ENGLAND AND AMERICA. 



A HINT TO THE WISE. 



England's the country, as we know, 

 Where fol'ies naturally grow ; 

 Where without culture they arise, 

 And tow'r above the common size. 



Churchill. 



We have, more than once, echoed the 

 sentiment of the eminent medical practitioner, 

 who declares that mankind are all mad 

 upon some one point or other. There can 

 be no doubt about it. Nor does the purely 

 artificial butterfly- life we live afford us any 

 reason to wonder at people's erratic tendency 

 to quit the natural path. They turn their 

 backs upon nature, and must have " some " 

 fresh excitement daily. A fine field is now 

 before them ! 



We have been greatly pleased to notice 

 the effect produced on the sensible portion 

 of the public, by the getting up of the re- 

 cent " Monster Petition on American 

 Slavery," by the well-meaning, but sadly, 

 misguided women of England. It is con- 

 demned on all hands, as being calculated to 

 do infinitely more harm than good. And 

 what sensible person can doubt it ? It re- 

 quires no argument ; it is so self-evident. 

 Such notoriety lessens respect for the female 

 character. 



As for the marvellous exertions put forth by 

 Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stow e, on behalf of 

 the slaves in America — nothing too lauda- 

 tory can be said of her. Truth, sincerity, 

 righteous zeal, plainness of speech, and 

 an honest cause — have induced her to write 

 a volume of " Facts ," that must in due time 

 benefit those for whom she struggles so 

 bravely. The woman has become an idol 

 here, and she deserves such homage. May 

 God bless the work of her hands ! 



This leads us to the object of our present 

 remarks — which is, to try and awaken in the 

 hearts of our excellent, kind-hearted Eng- 

 lishwomen, a desire to come forth in behalf 

 of their own suffering sex, here. * In this 

 labor of love, would we had ten thousand 

 Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowes ! But alas ! 

 with all the many sad scenes around us of 

 poverty, sickness, distress, prostitution, 

 sin, sorrow, and human wretchedness ; no 

 public champion appears for them ! 



No strangers can our nobility and gentry 

 be, to what we speak of. They know it all 

 but too well ; yet, like the Priest and 



* Some women are very fond of scribbling, and 

 can handle their pen well. But their forte lies in 

 fiction, and their brain has to be racked for matter. 

 Nature deals not in fiction, but pleases by the 

 perpetual freshness of her facts. No effort of the 

 mind is wanted here. The pen writes without 

 any effort. — Ed. K. J. 



the Levite, they "pass by on the other side." 

 If their names can be printed in a news- 

 paper, or otherwise publicly proclaimed — 

 then, we admit, they will contribute some- 

 thing from their store — but this is not 

 " charity." 



The truth is, all cases of real suffering are 

 passed by. The really deserving seldo 

 complain. They sorrow in silence — starve — 

 die. Nobody heeds the tolling bell that 

 closes upon their earthly career. They de- 

 part, uncared for. True charity would 

 search for such cases as these. They are 

 easily found — their number legion. 



But no ! If an artful man or woman pre- 

 tend to drown themselves, and are rescued — 

 for such, money flows in from every quarter. 

 The magistrates are continually remonstrat- 

 ing with the public for their ill-judged sym- 

 pathy in similar cases ; but all to no avail. * 



As for the poor milliners and dress-makers 

 of London, and their sorrows — all traceable to 

 the worse than thoughtlessness of the nobility 

 and gentry ; of them, we could write volumes. 

 But as the Press, collectively, has recently es- 

 poused their cause, and tried hard to shame 

 the wealthy andunfeeling tyrants who oppress 

 them, we will not enlarge upon this. The 

 streets, after dusk, speak volumes of the 

 state of society. The poor shivering 

 wretches (from twelve years old and up- 

 wards) who wander there, are doomed to 

 inevitable destruction. As we have before 

 said, a woman who has once fallen— no 

 matter under what extenuating circumstances 

 — from the path of virtue, is known by her own 

 sex no more for ever. No pity, no relief, no 

 giving of alms — no attempt to reclaim. In- 

 famy is her portion here ; and, so far as her 

 own sex are concerned, inevitable destruction 

 hereafter ! Not a hand would be put forth 

 to save a hair of her head. " Let her die !" 



Our kindly-disposed women — thank God 

 we have many such — err in their notions of 

 charity. They arm themselves with half- 

 penny and penny tracts, and rashly enter 

 places the most loathsome, to "read" to people 

 who are unable to understand what they 

 hear. Starving, too, are these poor creatures 

 for the most part ; and if they listen, it is 

 simply with the view of getting a parting 

 penny when their visitor withdraws. This is 

 a self sacrifice at once dangerous to the visi- 

 tor, and far worse than useless to the persons 



* There is a great deal of " morbid sympathy " 

 going on at the west-end of London, where beggars 

 of all sorts haunt the streets. Women with peti- 

 tions, get up all sorts of artful tales ; and work upon 

 the feelings of private people to a considerable 

 tune. It is a complete " matter of business," and 

 a very thriving one too. But as the whole tribe 

 are impostors — known to be so, one cannot but re- 

 gret the want of judgment shown in giving them 

 money. — Ed. K. J. 



