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KIDD'S OWN JOUKNAL. 



hear of them by a side-wind? Write, good 

 folks, write; and send us many such articles as 

 these. We can have but " one " interest, viz., 

 trying to make the " people" of the world better. 

 It may be done, — believe us. We are well 

 backed by zealous correspondents, who lean 

 towards our view. Nobody of any " taste " 

 would prefer a bad dinner in preference to a good 

 one, — if furnished at the same cost. Think of this, 

 " friends " at Nottingham, and elsewhere.] 



" My First Salmon." — Some time since, you 

 gave us, dear Mr. Editor, a most graphic and 

 delightful account of an eagle fighting with a 

 salmon. I have heard it spoken of in a multi- 

 tude of quarters. Let me, as a pendant, furnish 

 you with another brilliant description of the cap- 

 ture of " Christopher North's first salmon." It 

 has been in print, years ago; but it deserves 

 re-printing again — and above all things, in our 

 own Journal. I have transcribed it entire; 

 merely remarking — what would I not have given 

 to "witness the performance!" "Now let us 

 try the fly. A gaudy — a gorgeous tyke — ar- 

 rayed ^ in silver and gold, and plumed from 

 the Bird of Paradise. Nothing is ever found 

 in a salmon's stomach — some blockheads have 

 said — but animalculse in a state of decomposi- 

 tion. How do they account for his swallowing 

 with avidity a bunch of worms? How will they 

 account for his attempting to swallow this hum- 

 ming-bird ? Goodness, have mercyupon us ! was it 

 we that fell there into the water? Thankful are we 

 no— there it is again— a Fish! a Fish! Shall 

 we let our lure dangle six feet high in air, or let 



it wet its wings in the Leven? Wet its wi 



Mercy! he is on! What will become of us! 

 Hush ! hush ! stand out of the way. Hang that 

 wretched cork tree ! No — no — no — a harmless 

 hazel! All's right— all's right! The banks are 

 bare on this side for a mile down. But, hang 

 him — the river horse won't swim down — and, if 

 he leaps up that waterfall ! Sulky already, by 

 Jove ! like a stone at the bottom. That is a good 

 omen. He has it in his tongue, and is taciturn. 

 Tom Stoddai t would recommend us to go in and 

 kick him. But we would rather be excused. 

 Let us time him. Twenty minutes to — Whew! 

 there goes a watch, like winking, into the water, 

 Let the Kelpie fob it. Now we call that strong 

 steady swimming; and we are willing to back 

 him against any fish in the river. You could not 

 swim in that style, you villain! but for us. 

 There, take the butt, my boy; how are you off 

 for a barb, my darling? If you suppose you are 

 on single gut, you are gudgeon ; for let us assure 

 you, sir, that you are snuving on three-ply! 

 Alas! poor fellow, we could pity you; but we 

 cannot let you off. Our character is at stake 

 — and after we have slain thee, we should like to 

 have a shot at yon eagle. Perhaps you are not 

 so much of a monster after all, and we are 

 willing to conclude a bargain for you at two 

 stone, Troy. Well, that beats Bannagher, and 

 Ballyshannon too ! Ten loups, six feet high, in 

 instant succession ! Why, when we get you on 

 shore _ we shall let you astonish the natives, by 

 bouncing in and out a dozen empty barrels all 

 waiting for your brethren when they come to be 

 cured. Didn't we tell you that could not last? 



Such feats of agility were not becoming— barely 

 decent — in a fish in your melancholy situation — 

 and you should be thinking, without showing it, 

 of your latter end. We begin to suspect in good 

 earnest that we are a great natural genius. 

 Only think of learning how to kill a salmon at a 

 single lesson! ' Angling made easy, or every 

 man his own Lascelles.' We wonder how long 

 we have had him on ; — let us look — whew ! 

 minus a watch and appendages — what care we for 

 them more than a leg of mutton and trimmings? 

 Yet, for her sake, we wish we had not lost that 

 exquisitely-delicate silk paper, with Cupid upon 

 it, pulling his arrow from a bleeding heart. But 

 away! away, my love! and come hither ; for the 

 rain it is over and gone, and the greensward 

 sleeps in the sunshine : — come ! oh, come to these 

 longing arms!— side foremost or on thy back — 

 whichever posture suits thee best — languishingly 

 — dyingly — too weak — too faint of thy self to move 

 towards thy lover; but he will assist thee, my 

 jewel, and we two will lie down, in the eye of 

 heaven, in an earth- forgetting embrace. Oh ! 

 red, red, are thy lips, my love! What aileth 

 these small teeth of thine? And what, we be- 

 seech thee, hast thou been doing with that dear 

 nose ? Not a word in reply, but a wallop between 

 our legs, that capsized us. ' And thus it w^as, 

 Christopher North killed his first 

 salmon.' " — There are reasons, my dear Mr. 

 Editor, why the insertion of the above at the 

 present moment, will be read with even an in- 

 creased zest. — Alexander B., Edinburgh. 



[Our Correspondent has awakened by this re- 

 cital all our old feelings. " Still in our ashes 

 live their wonted fires." We are rampant for our 

 rod ; and mad for a run on the bank. And when 

 he talks, under his mighty efforts of piscatorial 

 ingenuity, about " her" — " Cupid,'" — " the 



arrow," — and " the bleeding heart" it really is 



too much for us. How often have we played the 

 same game in our early days ! 



Substitute for Soap in California. — It appears, 

 Mr. Editor, that a very curious plant, the Soap- 

 plant, grows all over California. The leaves 

 make their appearance about the middle of 

 November, or about six weeks after the rainy 

 season has fully set in; the plants never grow 

 more than a foot high; and the leaves and stock 

 drop entirely off in May, though the bulbs re- 

 main in the ground all the summer without 

 decaying. It is used to wash with in all parts 

 of the country, and, by those who know its 

 virtues, it is preferred to the best of soap. The 

 method of using it is, merely to strip off the husk, 

 dip the clothes into the water, and rub the bulb 

 on them. It makes a thick lather, and smells 

 not unlike brown soap. The botanical name of 

 the plant is Phalangium pomaridianum. There 

 can be no excuse, my dear Sir, for a want of 

 cleanliness under such circumstances, — unless 

 indeed the " love of gold" has altogether extin- 

 guished the love of the " better part." — 

 LydiaT. 



Poland Fowls (Gold and Silver") without Beards. 

 — Dear Mr. Editor, Dr. Horner, of Hull, says 

 (see Agricultural Gazette) — " The very best au- 

 thorities — men of great experience, observation, 



