KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL 



205 



Would that I were enough of a botanist to describe 

 them ! But there, in the hedge, is the singular 

 tree of the Three Dresses ! First it cometh forth 

 like a fairy, all in a garb of green, covered from 

 top to toe, with a leafy robe of that loveliest color ; 

 presently, ere many weeks have passed, it sud- 

 denly droppeth its emerald raiment, and, _ all 

 leafless and barren, appeareth in deep mourning, 

 a black and funereal thing : by-and-bye, however, 

 buds of unseen flowers deck the squalid branches, 

 and lo ! all at once, in one night, arrayed in a 

 stole of scarlet glory, our cardinal of trees — a 

 vegetable Proteus — blazes forth upon the sight, 

 a tree of harmless lightning ! It has just assumed 

 its third costume ; and that hedge looks,_ in the 

 distance, like an avenue of fire. There is not a 

 green leaf nor brown bud to vary the crimson 

 splendor of its pride ; for every capsule has burst 

 forth into a blossom of unexampled brilliancy. 

 This tree is the Butea frondosa. 



Yonder, in the corner, near the margin of the 

 neglected bowry ( reader, bowry is not a' little 

 bower, but a large well), are the apples of the racy 

 tomata. Beside them, in dangerous proximity, 

 droop the superb corollse of the deadly stramo- 

 nium — so nearby neighbored are the useful and 

 the hurtful in this world ! Here, close to the ver- 

 anda, is another poisonous plant of extreme beauty ; 

 it is thorny, its leaves resembling those of a thistle ; 

 but they are of a delicate sea-green, and each 

 stalk is surmounted by a flower, which is a per- 

 fect gem of elegance. It is of blight yellow, 

 looking like a golden chalice ; has six petals sur- 

 rounding many stamens and pistils, for the plant 

 is polyandrous ; while a pyramidal germen is 

 crowned by a ruby -colored stigma. It is the Ar- 

 gemone Mexicana, and it is said that the Bheels 

 and wild septs of our Northern Circars poison 

 their kreeses and arrows with a preparation frcm 

 its viscid juice In spite of its winning beauty, 

 the weed exhales a fetid odor, indicative of its 

 hurtful propensities. 



HARMONY RUN MAD. 



A WRINKLE FROM GERMANY. 



Completely satisfied with the per- 

 formance of a symphony which I had just 

 heard — as well as with an excellent dinner, 

 I fell asleep ; and beheld myself, in a dream, 

 suddenly transported back into the concert- 

 room. Here I found the whole of the in- 

 struments in motion — holding grand council, 

 under the presidency of the sweet-breathed 

 Hautboy. 



To the right, a party had arranged them- 

 selves ; consisting of a Viol d'amour, Viol di 

 Gamba, Flute, &c. Each of these sounded 

 melancholy complaints as to the degeneracy 

 of the present era of music. To the left, 

 the Lady Hautboy was haranguing a circle 

 of Clarionettes and Flutes, both young and 

 old, with and without keys. In the centre 

 was the courtly Pianoforte, attended by 

 several graceful Violins, who had formed 

 themselves after Pleyel and Gironetz. The 

 Trumpets and Horns formed a drinking con- 

 clave in the corner ; while the Piccolo- 



flutes and Flageolets occasionally filled 

 the w T hole room with their naive, childish 

 strains. 



All appeared very comfortable ; when, on 

 a sudden, the morose Contra- basso, accom- 

 panied by a couple of kindred Violoncellos, 

 burst into the room, and threw himself pas- 

 sionately into the director's chair. Then did 

 the Pianoforte, together with all the catgut 

 instruments present, involuntarily sound in 

 accord from terror. 



" It were enough," he exclaimed, " to play 

 the deuce with me, if such compositions 

 were to be given daily. Here am I, just 

 come from the rehearsal of a symphony of one 

 of our newest composers ; and, although, as 

 is known, I possess a pretty powerful nature 

 I could scarce hold it out longer. The 

 strings of my body ran a risk of being torn 

 for ever ! If any more such work goes on, 

 I will positively turn Kit, and gain my liveli- 

 hood by the performance of Muller and 

 kauer's dances!" 



First Violoncello (wiping the perspiration 

 from his brow) — " Certainly, old dad is 

 right ; I am so fatigued that, since the opera 

 of Cherubini, I don't recollect any such 

 echauffement! '' 



All the instruments together. — "Explain! 

 explain!" 



Second Violoncello. — " What ! the sym- 

 phony ? It is inexplicable, and unendurable. 

 According to the principles my divine master, 

 Romberg, instilled into me, the production 

 we have just executed is a sort of musical 

 monster, which can boast of no other merit than 

 originality ! Why, it makes us climb up 

 aloft like violins." 



First Violoncello (interrupting him pet- 

 tishly). — " As if we could not do it as well !' 



A Violin. — " Let each class keep within 

 its due bounds." 



Bass Viol. — " Aye, or what will remain for 

 me to do ? I who stand between the two ? " 



First Violoncello. — " Oh, you are out of the 

 question ! Your ability is only to support 

 us, or to produce a few quavers and turns ; 

 as, for instance, in the Pelican ; but as to 

 what regards fine tone — " 



Oboe. — " None can compete with me, in 

 that respect." 



Clarionet. — " Madam, you will surely 

 allow us to notice our talents ! " 



Flute. — " Yes ; for marches and festivals." 



Bassoon. — " Who resembles the divine 

 tenor e more than I ? '' 



Horn. — " Why, you surely won't pretend 

 to so much delicacy and power as I have?" 



Pianoforte (with dignity). — " And what is 

 all this, compared to the body of harmony 

 possessed by me ? Whilst you are, severally, 

 ' parts of a whole,' I am all-sufficient." 



All the others (vociferously). — "Hold your 

 tongue ! you cannot even hold a single note.'' 



