KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



105 



talk of what we would much rather witness. 

 We see almost every other passenger accom- 

 panied by a box or a portmanteau, — his 

 better -half complacently " smiling" the fact 

 of herself and spouse being bound for a 

 tete-a-tete to the sea- side. We see this, we 

 say, and groan. But when we note a gen- 

 tleman with a little carpet-bag — and a stick, 

 our brain positively reels, and we feel giddy. 

 Of all equipments, commend us to these 

 two last. Apropos of this " little carpet- 

 bag." Casting our eyes, a day or two 

 since, over a Scotch paper, we read some- 

 thing that has unsettled us for the season ; 

 and as we hope it will unsettle many others 

 also, we embody the idea here. We repeat, 

 nobody should be seen in London in 

 August — nobody at least that values his 

 health. What does a little carpet-bag cost ? 

 How much room does it occupy? What does 

 it not hold ? Does it not sometimes hold 

 our heart — spell-bound ? 



Is not the most common of our street 

 sights, at this season, a gentleman hurrying 

 along towards railway or river, bearing with 

 him a little carpet-bag ? So common indeed 

 is it, that it fails to attract the slightest at- 

 tention. Now a little carpet-bag is no more 

 noted, than an umbrella or a walking stick in 

 a man's hand ; and yet, when rightly viewed, 

 it is, to our thinking, an object of no ordi- 

 nary interest. We feel no envy for the man 

 on whom has devolved the charge of a heap 

 of luggage. The anxiety attending such 

 property, outweighs the pleasure of its pos- 

 session. But a man with a little carpet -bag 

 is one in ten thousand. He is perhaps the 

 most perfect type of independence extant. 

 He can snap his fingers in the face of 

 the most extortionate porter. No trotting 

 urchin is idle enough to solicit the car- 

 rying of so slight a burden. W^hile other 

 passengers, by coach or railway, are looking 

 after their trunks and trappings, he enters, 

 and has the best seat. He and his " little 

 all" never part company. On arriving at 

 their destination, they are off with the 

 jaunty swagger of unencumbered bachelor- 

 hood. 



In contemplating a gentleman with a 

 carpetbag, we are struck, to a certain 

 extent, with an idea of disproportion ; but 

 the balance is all on the easy side. There 

 is far too little to constitute a burden, and 

 yet there is enough to indicate wants at- 

 tended to, and comforts supplied. No man 

 with a little carpet-bag in hand has his last 

 shirt on his back. Neither is it probable 

 that his beard can suffer from slovenly over- 

 growth. W 7 hen he retires to roost at night, 

 the presumption is that it will be in the 

 midst of comfortable and cosy night-gear. 



A little carpet-bag is almost always 

 indicative of a short and pleasurable excur- 



sion. No painful ideas of stormy seas or 

 dreadful accidents on far-off railway lines 

 are suggested by it. Distance is sometimes 

 poetically measured by " a small bird's 

 flutter," or " two smokes of a pipe," or 

 some such shadowy, though not altogether 

 indefinite phase. Why may not time, in 

 like manner, be measured by two shirts ? A 

 gentleman with a little carpet-bag may be 

 said to contemplate — about a couple of 

 shirts' absence from home. Hereby hangs a 

 tale : — 



A fortnight since, we had one of these 

 " little carpet-bags" all ready " fitted up." 

 We were bound on a visit for two days to a 

 delightful family — readers of this Journal, 

 but as yet known to us by an extensive cor- 

 respondence only. Our heart lay in that 

 " carpet-bag; yet, from unforeseen circum- 

 stances, was that bag doomed to be tmfitted 

 at the last moment ; and our fondly-looked- 

 for enjoyment deferred pro tern. Still, we 

 shall never let that bag be out of our sight 

 till it has done its mission. Editors of news- 

 papers cannot " always " do as they like. 



With respect to the beauties of the coun- 

 try at this season, — walks in the corn fields, 

 in the clover, in the meadows, in the lanes, 

 by the rivers, and in the forests, — we have 

 before said enough of them to induce all 

 who can indulge in these delights to do so. 

 Wandering abroad, far away from dirty 

 cities and walled-up towns, something de- 

 lectable may be met with daily ; aye, some- 

 thing worth looking at. We expect it ; and 

 therefore is it we seek the country, and 

 more particularly the well-sheltered forests : 



/Twas on a merry summer day, 



When yellow gorse was blowing, 

 I met her in the forest way. 



With ringlets brightly flowing — 

 Her ringlets rich as autumn leaves, 



Her face all artless beauty; 

 Who sees such, evermore believes 



" To love's " life's sweetest duty. 



She gathered flowers as she went, 



The little fairy reaper ! 

 Wild rose, for some dear emblem meant, 



Sorrel, and noon's pale sleeper;* 

 Red woodbines, too, so lavish there, 



That with each zephyr wrestled, 

 And one choice bunch she pillowed where 



Her snowy kerchief nestled. 



She murmured snatches of old song — 



How still I stood to listen I 

 But down the forest vale ere long 



I saw her ringlets glisten ; 

 I heard her singing in the shade, 



Now hastening and now staying, 

 While half resolved, and half afraid, 



I ran, or stood delaying. 



The evening primrose. 



