KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



343 



field and its nut-brown occupants, away at 

 once for a stroll ; and contemplate amongst 

 the multitude of leaves the delightful still- 

 ness, the peace which nature gives. Listen ! 

 How soft and how sweet are the sounds of 

 that 



Ringdove's plaint, — 

 Moan'd from the twilight centre of the grove, 

 While every other woodland lay is mute, 

 Save when the wren flits from her down-coved nest, 

 And from the root-sprigs trills her ditty clear, — 

 The grasshopper's ott-pausing chirp — the buzz, 

 Angrily shrill of moss-entangled bee, 

 That soon as loos'd, booms with full twang away ! 



These are a few of the delights of 

 Summer. We might multiply them ad infini- 

 tum; but it would be a work of supereroga- 

 tion. One word more. Let all who are 

 now in London, from choice, remain there. 

 But let all such as hate the city and its 

 " lying vanities,' 1 flee from it at once. We 

 mean, of course, all who can do so. Make 

 up a party to Chobham, and view the military 

 encampment, speed away to Epping Forest, 

 Richmond, Windsor ; anywhere, so that you 

 can breathe, and unbend your mind. The 

 secret of health, is to give free play to the 

 lungs. Next month, we will try our hand at 

 the elements of " a Pic-nic Party," and see 

 whether our pen will not work a spell upon 

 the skin-dried Londoner ; we will draw him 

 out, if we can — and make him enjoy himself, 

 nolens volens. 



Only think of a man or woman hugging 

 themselves up in a smoky city, in July, 

 when, from the intensity of the heat, birds 

 are sitting open-mouthed upon the bushes ! 

 Why, fishes are now being fried in shallow 

 ponds ; sheep and cattle congregate in the 

 shade, and forget to eat. Pedestrians along 

 dusty roads quarrel with their coats and 

 waistcoats, and cut sticks to enable them to 

 carry them across their shoulders. Cottagers' 

 wives, too, go about their work gown-less ; 

 and so would their fair daughters had they 

 not bodily fear of the Vicar before their 

 eyes. 



Oh ! good folks ! be warned in time. 

 Leave the cities, and seek refuge in the 

 country. Come and see the snow-white 

 swans float above their own image on the 

 water ; and seat yourselves beneath the 

 weeping willows, as they dip their green and 

 taper fingers in the clear, cool lake 

 beneath. 



We have said, Come. We will be answer- 

 able for your not wishing to return very soon 

 — that is, if you have a heart : — 



They love the country, and none else, who seek 

 For their own sake its silence and its shade ; 

 Delights which, who would leave that has a heart 

 Susceptible of feeling, or a mind 

 Cultur'd, and capable of sober thought ? 



Those who live in cities must be encum- 



bered with much rust. Nothing will — 

 nothing can rub this off, but pure air and the 

 society of a cheerful friend. 



FARE THEE WELL! 



BY HELEN HETHERIXGTON. 



Fare thee well, my dearest mother, 



Fate decrees that we must part ; 

 Vainly dost thou strive to smother 



Sighs that rend thy gentle heart. 

 By the light that shines above thee, 



By affection's magic spell, 

 I will never cease to love thee — 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



Let us hope a brighter morrow 



Will life's fairer joys disclose ; 

 Oh ! I would not cause thee sorrow, 



For the wealth the world bestows ! 

 On my lips thy name shall ever 



With affection's fondness dwell ; 

 It is hard indeed to sever — 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



Do not weep, for God will bless thee, 



Now with tears thine eyes are dim ; 

 When the cares of life oppress thee, 



Bear thy sorrows unto Him. 

 Tell Him too the doubts that grieve thee ; 



He will every fear dispel, — 

 To His faithful care I leave thee, 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



Fond remembrance o'er me stealing 



Speaks of many a happy day, 

 W T hen in joyous childhood kneeling 



At thy feet I learned to pray. 

 Scenes of home, and joys that cheer it, 



Sball life's anxious fears repel ; 

 Let thy smile again endear it — 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



Cheerful thoughts in retrospection 



Ne'er from memory shall depart, 

 And thy look of fond affection 



Still shall bless and cheer my heart. 

 See ! the flowing sails above thee 



With light breezes proudly swell ; 

 Heaven is witness that I love thee — 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



Ere the day dawns on the morrow, 



I shall brave the boundless sea ; 

 Heaven shield thy path from sorrow, 



God will bless and comfort thee. 

 If in thought or word I grieve thee, 



Let these tears my anguish tell ; 

 Hark ! the signal ! I must leave thee — 



Dearest mother, fare thee well ! 



TRUE RELIGION. 



He fears God most, and lives the best life, who 

 is unwearied in well-doing. Long faces and sanc- 

 tified looks, are marks of hypocrisy. An " honest " 

 heart invariably produces a cheerful countenance. 

 When we " love one another," we are fulfilling 

 the Divine Command. " God is Love." We do 

 gloi-y in the religion of our fore-fathers, — albeit it 

 is so nearly extinct ! 



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