KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



235 



sculptured the arms of the canton,with the appro- 

 priate motto—" Liberte et Patrie." 



Retracing our steps through these various 

 chambers of death and sorrow, we crossed a court 

 yard, and visited the Arsenal and Armoury. They 

 have got some funny things there, Mr. Editor. 

 Pieces which are not meant for playthings ; or, at 

 any rate, intended for "a game " I have no fancy 

 to play at ! From hence we passed to the horrible 

 Oubliettes, — deep narrow wells, which go down 

 till they nearly reach the water. The sides of 

 these wells, at convenient distances for torture, 

 are furnished with the blades of swords, scythes, 

 spikes, &c, &c, which are firmly fixed in them. 

 There is a kind of "Bascule" upon the top, on 

 which the criminal or offender was placed. He 

 was attended by the executioner and the priest ; 

 and, at a given signal, the " bascule " was turned, 

 and the wretched creature precipitated down the 

 oubliettes. The " bascule " returned to its position 

 — et tout fut oublie. 



Such was the inside of Chillon. Happily these 

 days of horror have long since gone by. 



The exterior of the Castle is too well known to 

 require any description from me. I was not sorry, 

 after a while, to find myself cracking the bones of 

 a cold roast chicken, at the " Cigne" at Vernex, 

 from whence next morning: we all returned home. 



Tottenham, April 20. 



Fino. 



DEAR IVY LEAVES ! 



BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 



Dear is the wreath to me, 

 That Nature weaves ; 



But none more dear than ye, 

 Dear ivy leaves. 



Emblems of Innocence ! 



Give me your confidence ; 



Love be the recompense, 

 Dear ivy leaves ! . 



When doubt, or dark despair, 



My spirit grieves, 

 Then you shall be my care, 



Dear ivy leaves : 

 I love your lively hue, 

 For friends still kind and time 

 First taught me to love you, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



Fame has no charm for me, 



Favor deceives ; 

 But Heav'n smiles on ye, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 Yes, you shall be my care ; 

 In happy hours I'll wear 

 A wreath to deck my hair, 



Of ivy leaves. 



Hei'e, in my pretty bower, 

 Your truth receives 

 Blessings from every flower, — 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 The sky is bright above, 

 And the fond turtle-dove 

 Tells you a tale of love, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



High o'er my rustic cot, 



Under the eaves, 

 Breathe a " forget-me-not," 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 When my sweet birds seek rest, 

 With care or cold opprest, 

 Oh, fold them on your breast, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



Joy beams wheree'er you climb ; 



Your step retrieves 

 The mischief done by time, — 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 Yea, put forth all your power, 

 To shield the mould'ring tower, 

 When storms and tempests lower, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



Faithful the heart must be, 



That fondly cleaves 

 To Fortune's wreck, like ye, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 Though care and sorrow fill 

 Life's path with every ill, 

 I find you faithful still, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



E'en at the silent tomb, 



My heart conceives, 

 Your smiles dispel the gloom, 



Dear ivy leaves ! 

 Friends in adversity, 

 Still you have charms for me, 

 Few love as I love ye, — 



Dear ivy leaves ! 



MORE OF THE DOG. 



DOG-LIFE AND DOG-DEATH. 



What Fate imposes, Dogs must need abide ; 

 It boots not to resist both wind and tide. 



Shakspeare. 



After the highly amusing " Account 

 of Himself/' presented to the readers of 

 our own by that jolly dog, Fino, I fear, 

 Mr. Editor, that not a few miserable bipeds 

 will begin to grumble with Dame Nature for 

 limiting the number of their understandings, 

 and denying them delectable canine faculties. 

 But the high- life, well-fed, entomological 

 " bow-wow," is only a one-sided picture. 

 Therefore, to prevent any discontented in- 

 dividuals longing after dog-life, I presume to 

 reverse the medal. 



I regret that, owing to the deficiency of his 

 education, the subject of the present " me- 

 moir" was unable to make a few notes of the 

 most interesting episodes in his career. I 

 am thereby prevented giving so " full, true, 

 and particular an account" as I could wish. 

 The pith of what is to follow is, in a measure, 

 guessed at. It is partly the result of a post 

 mortem examination, for which I have not yet 

 received a farthing ; and not a little indebted 

 to that many-tongued lady, Miss Rumour. 

 That he was born,there exists not the slightest 

 cobweb of a doubt; but where? Whether 



