KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



and if we can serve you, or any of you, how 

 happy shall we be! With respect to your 

 chickens, the season has much to do with their 

 sudden death. You must vary their food. Give 

 them a change of boiled rice (served warm); 

 boiled potatoes (also warm), and a little roasted 

 butchers' meat, chopped fine. Be sure to keep 

 them warm in their habitations at night; and 

 let them have free access to plenty of pure spring 

 water. Their regular diet of barley and oats, 

 mixed, may be given as usual, once a day, — and 

 what we have prescribed will form an agreeable 

 change. Above all things, be careful to keep 

 your poultry-houses well cleansed. More 

 chickens die from want of cleanliness, whilst 

 roosting, than from any other cause whatever. 

 The stench from below engenders, as it rises, an 

 incurable disorder. By the way, Miss Sarah, if 

 the weather continues as it is at the present time 

 of writing, we imagine that your prayer 

 for us and our Journal to " live for ever," 

 will be rendered vain. We have lived in 

 the hope of a change, till hope has almost given 

 up the ghost; and left us hardly the materiality 

 of a washed-out shadow.] 



Tame Squirrels with Tin Collars, — A 

 " Wrinkle." — The good-natured Public, Mr. 

 Editor, little imagine whilst buying a tame 

 squirrel with a tin collar in the street, that the 

 latter, if not removed, will soon destroy the 

 former. But it is so. Every Spring, squirrel 

 selling is made a trade of. Young ones are 

 caught, and placed under cats, whose kittens 

 are first destroyed. The cats of course suckle 

 them, and they thrive. They are then used to 

 lap milk, and to eat bread soaked in it. 

 Previous to being sent up for the London 

 market, a piece of tin, vandyked, is placed over 

 their respective heads. Under this, a piece of 

 red cloth is fastened, to hide the cruelty prac- 

 tised by the tightness of the eollar. No sooner 

 are these little creatures exposed for sale, by 

 boys in smock-frocks, ("just come from the 

 woods!") than they find ready purchasers. They 

 are then fed on nuts, bread-and-milk, and fruit 

 of all sorts. The consequence is, they are very 

 shortly afterwards attacked by ulcerated sore 

 tbroats, and found choked at the bottom of their 

 cages. With these collars on, they cannot bite ; 

 nor eat without sensible pain. This very Spring, 

 I have purchased one of these little fellows, 

 and lost him of course. It was this that in- 

 duced me to pursue the inquiry, the result of 

 which I now send you pro bono. I recently 

 asked one of these " smock-frock" gentry, why 

 he did not tell his customers to remove the 

 collars? "No-ah!" replied he, " If ar deed 

 thart, um wouldn't die, and ar couldn't sell no 

 mo-ar on um!" Let us hope after this, Mr. 

 Editor, that we shall assist in diminishing cruelty 

 to these dumb animals at least. — -ZEolus. 



Female Education. — Is it not a matter for sur- 

 prise, that while young ladies are so sedulously 

 taught all the accomplishments that a husband, 

 disregards, they are never taught the great one 

 he would prize ? They are taught to be exhibitors 

 abroad ; whereas he wants a companion at home. 



NOTES OF A JOUBNEY TO LONDON. 

 BY THE AUTHOR OF " A COLD." 



Among the many past periods of our 

 existence round which memory delights to 

 hover, there are always a few pre-eminently 

 attractive, and enlinked with a thousand 

 tender associations. Of these, the day on 

 which we may be said to have commenced 

 the voyage of life, remains pictured on the 

 heart, in colors that outlast the wear of years. 

 The hopes and dreams which then gathered 

 round the mind, panting for exertion,— the 

 visions of triumph and renown that fancy 

 dimly traced ; and, above all, the last and 

 sacred interview with those who have reared 

 us from the cradle up to manhood's bloom ; 

 these are the favorite subjects of our retro- 

 spective hours ; and, though often remem- 

 bered, seldom become wearisome. Such, at 

 least, is the case with some of us. Some 

 eventful years have rolled away since I left 

 a faithful guardian, to fight my battles amid 

 the wide world, in all the pride of inexpe- 

 rience and romantic enthusiasm. It was on 

 a bright summer's evening, and the clouds 

 that garlanded the sky, the breezes that 

 played in the air, and the glance of mingled 

 sorrow and delight with which I gazed on the 



beautiful suburbs of B , while the vehicle 



rattled carelessly by them, still linger fresh on 

 my memory. As the coach — no railways had 

 we then — toiled slowly up a beetling hill that 

 overhung the town, I turned round to take 

 one "longing, lingering look." Before me 

 lay one of the most splendid cities in the 

 universe, embosomed in a valley, whose sur- 

 rounding hills were dotted with cottages that 

 now glittered beautifully in the sun. Here 

 might be seen the shattered relic of a castle, 

 with ivy clinging faithfully to its iron win- 

 dow-gaps ; and there the white face of some 

 stately mansion gleaming through the trees. 

 From its peculiar situation, and the reverent 

 tint of its houses, it looked imposingly grand, 

 viewed from an eminence. The sunshine 

 mingling with the livid smoke, flung a silky 

 dimness over the piles; softening their shadows, 

 and increasing their stateliness. Crescents 

 fronted with vine-trellis, parades with their 

 smooth broad pavements ; and here and there 

 an ancient steeple, frowning with melancholy 

 sublimity over all, arrested and delighted the 

 eye. To finish the picture ; to the left were 

 seen occasional glimpses of the Avon, flash- 

 ing along its snaky course beneath the shades 

 of alders and drooping briars. All this, how- 

 ever, soon grew shapeless in the dim distance 

 — house after house sank from the gaze — and 

 then I silently and sorrowfully took my seat. 



The first object that attracted the eyes of 

 the passengers, was a dying horse. To make 

 a serious matter of such, a subject, will excite 



