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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



TO CORRESPONDENTS. 



Communications Received. — Louisa. — T. W. — James 

 S. — F. J. —P. — Arthur.— E. V.— L. II.— F. C — 

 J. B. M. -Hannah.— Mary.— H, L. H — W. Martin, 

 next week.— H. C. W.— E T. Send us the MS., and 

 when we have perused it, we will give you an answer. 

 The subject is a nolle one. 



To Correspondents. — As we always print one number 

 of the Journal in advance, such of our Correspondents 

 as may not receive replies to their questions in the cur- 

 rent number, must bear in mind that they are not for- 

 gotten. We pay marked attention to all favors. 



KIDD'S OWN JOTJKNAL. 



Saturday, August 21, 1852. 



WE HAVE JUST BEEN LET INTO A " LITTLE 



secret " by one of the great men of the 

 Bookselling Trade. He tells us — that the 

 reason of our Paper being so kept back, is 

 the healthy tone that pervades it. Had it 

 been of an immoral tendency and its prin- 

 ciples lax. it would, it seems, have " gone 

 off like wildfire." We leave the " cheap 

 Periodicals " to the honor they have 

 achieved in this matter ; and rely more 

 than ever on our kind friends the Public to 

 help us in so good a cause as ours. We can 

 urge no better claim than is furnished by the 

 " hint " above. Franklin says — " When 

 you are the ' anvil,' have patience." We 

 have had exemplary patience. " But," adds 

 he, " when you are the ' hammer,' hit hard 

 and well." Will the Public play the part 

 of the " hammer " for us ? A direct " Letter 

 of Recommendation " to their friends, would 

 carry powerful weight with it ; and if our 

 Journal be demanded by them, it must 

 be procured. 



Our pen is as much puzzled as the 

 hand that holds it, to find a fitting subject 

 for to-day. There is no lack of subject- 

 matter truly; but there is such an infinite 

 variety that the difficulty lies in the se- 

 lection. 



While we write, all the world is out and 

 abroad. Whoever has a guinea has gone 

 forth to spend it. The sea-side swarms with 

 visitors. Bathing-places are in high demand. 

 Straw hats with enormously-broad brims, 

 and bilious-looking gherkin shoes, are in 

 universal request. As these two last are 

 necessarily associated with the lovers of 

 good living, and gluttons par excellence, we 

 must, as faithful historians, say that gin, 

 tobacco, beer, and other such filthy abomi- 

 nations, are in especial request also. Keep 

 us from following in the wake of all these 

 votaries of " pleasure !" Steam-boat joys 

 suit us not ; neither pleasure-gardens ; nor 

 fetes; nor any of those exciting delectabi- 

 lities in which the world so much rejoice. 

 Smoking, spitting, drinking, singing, shout- 



ing, romping, joking, have their defenders — 

 their name is " Legion." We leave the 

 holiday folk in undisturbed possession of all 

 these their delights (including dancing and a 

 thousand other pleasantries), merely calling 

 their attention to the " tempting opportuni- 

 ties" that now offer by rail, steam-boat, and 

 van, — while we, as is our wont, turn to the 

 humble but (as we think) more natural en- 

 joyment of Nature in the fields, woods, and 

 forests. 



Let not our more boisterous friends sneer 

 at us because we decline their company. 

 They may vote us dull and prosy, if they 

 will ; but we defy them to prove it. We, 

 too, l^ave our " companions ;" neither few, 

 nor indifferent to pleasure. They are of a 

 more " tender " order of society we admit ; 

 but therein is our delight. We envy no man 

 or woman upon earth. Let them enjoy 

 themselves when they may, as they may, 

 how they will. All we say to them is, ac- 

 cord us the same permission. 



Now let us away to the fields, and see 

 what is going on there. Our eye has re 

 cently been rejoicing in the most lovely of 

 all lovely prospects, our feet despising fatigue 

 by keeping up bravely in the pursuit of 

 what lay before us. We have climbed many 

 a lofty height, and sat down to gaze upon 

 the scenery below. And what saw we ? 

 What tongue can tell ? Who can attempt 

 to speak of the prodigal gifts of Nature to 

 us her children at this season ! The world, 

 we repeat, is good ; but we are the most 

 ungrateful of all people. We grumble and 

 are discontented if the weather is season- 

 ably fine and hot ; and we complain with an 

 equal bitterness if it rains ! 



Oh, what a scene did we not witness some 

 few days since ! Seated on an eminence, 

 overlooking fields of corn, orchards, gardens 

 and richly-wooded valleys, we found not a 

 breath to disturb the serenity of our 

 thoughts. The happy insects below us, 

 were loitering and basking in the sun. But- 

 terflies were sunning themselves on each side 

 of us in every possible direction. Here and 

 there a happy bird uttered a chirrup of joy. 

 Now and then, we observed a little mouse 

 threading his way through the straggling 

 hedge. In a word, all that had life was 

 " happy," and we were as overjoyed at their 

 various ways of expressing it. 



To describe our amount of happiness, 

 would be impossible. We experienced a 

 state of repose quite in unison with the 

 repose of all Nature — at our feet, above us, 

 around us, on every side. Oh ! thought we, 

 if there be any real happiness in the world, 

 this is a taste of it. How complacently too, 

 Dame Nature herself seemed to regard the 

 work of her own hands ! Happy mother ! 

 She had perfected everything, and she " saw 



