KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



137 



orthodox.* Not a bit of it ! We were torn, 

 bodily, from our dear friends three hours 

 sooner than was needful ; and had for two 

 long hours on a soaking night, never to be 

 forgotten as occurring in August, to be 

 kicking up our heels in the streets of Bir- 

 mingham. We allude to the night of 

 August 11, — a night when all the bottles of 

 Aquarius, full to the brim, seemed to be re- 

 morselessly emptied on that devoted town. 

 Plenty of excellent friends have we in 

 Birmingham truly ; but the distance to their 

 domicile was too great to compass in the 

 time, allowing us to get back to meet the 

 last train ; and who, knowing the uncer- 

 tainty of the " arrivals and departures," 

 could attempt to sit down comfortably to 

 "tea?" 



As it was, we did not reach our " house- 

 hold gods " until the anti-marital hour of 

 2 A. m., — our " angel of life" having, in the 

 agony of her suffering, set us down for the 

 three previous hours (our royal person was 

 '* due " at 11) as mince-meat ! 



That we were not, like many recent vic- 

 tims to railway mis-management " chopped 

 up," is true ; but we were subject to a 

 series of trials that would have made even 

 the model Patriarch himself quake for his 

 laurels. Our " mysterious cloak " (see 

 vol. i., p. 104) accompanied us. Unknown 

 therefore by others, we were " taking notes ;" 

 and we have felt it our duty to " print 'em." 

 May future travellers be warned by our 

 sufferings ! for, when arrived chez nous, we 

 were almost a literal embodiment of a half- 

 drowned rat ; and felt like a sheet of damp 

 cartridge, — uncomfortably lissom and unna- 

 turally coddled. 



This most glorious month of sun- 

 shine, and goodness of God to man, has all 

 but expired. It will have left behind it, 

 when it ceases to be, recollections that must 

 be imperishable. 



Fair Flora now to Ceres leaves the plain, 



Diffusing plenty o'er her wide domain; 



She opes her stores, and strews them through 



the mead, 

 And golden harvests all the surface spread. 



Whilst we write, the lavish bounties of 

 Nature that have so long rejoiced the fields, 

 are now about to rejoice the habitations of 

 man. The fields, long since " white unto 

 harvest," are now fast becoming relieved of 

 their serious but grateful and loving respon- 

 sibilities. Never was there a greater pro- 

 digality of abundance for the use of us, — 

 God's creatures, than at the present season. 



* Complaints of this trickery were numerous. 

 We herded together, and formed quite a little 

 race of " victims." One gentleman said, he had 

 been thrown out of gear six hours that same day! 

 —Ed. K. J. 



May our gratitude and thanksgiving im- 

 prove in an equal ratio ! We have, as 

 usual, grumbled sore in the early year, 

 about " blighted prospects ;" but our 

 grumblings must be for ever silenced, by the 

 overwhelming return of " good for evil " 

 which we see on every hand. Our cup is 

 full, — running over. 



Our heart is so big with enjoyment 

 during the days of harvest, that, were it to 

 find suitable vent, and were we to attempt 

 to note down what passes through our breast 

 whilst viewing the reapers in their daily 

 toil, — no allotted space could subserve our 

 purpose. We will therefore clip the wings 

 of our joy, and merely glance at what has 

 been, and now is going forward in this land 

 of promise : — 



• Now o'er the corn the sturdy farmer looks, 

 And swells with satisfaction to behold 

 The plenteous harvest which repays his toil. 

 We too are gratified, and feel a joy 

 Inferior but to his, — partakers all 

 Of the rich bounty Providence has strewed 

 In plentiful profusion o'er the field. 



We can well imagine the delight with 

 which the farmers behold the work of their 

 hands, so richly rewarded ; and how they 

 long to begin to secure their vested inter- 

 ests ! What a spirit -moving sight it is, to 

 witness the preparations for cutting the 

 corn ! At early morn, there go the reapers 

 to their cheerful task, — leisurely beholding 

 what lies before them, and in love with their 

 prescribed duty, — a case of very rare oc- 

 currence this, and therefore worthy of note ! 



And look at their reaping-hooks, — resting 

 on their right shoulders ; their kegs of beer 

 suspended round their wrists, swinging to 

 and fro, while they pause where first to com- 

 mence! Is this not a pretty sight? Aye, 

 even fashion's proud votaries might, for one 

 instant, be betrayed (harmlessly) into a sigh 

 of emotion. No Emperor ever gazed on a 

 more lovely picture, bringing with it as it 

 does such an association of beautiful ideas, 

 — such holy imaginings. We ask all who 

 know anything about what we are attempt- 

 ing to portray, what can be more delightful 

 at this season, than 



To look abroad, 

 And from the window view the reaper strip, 

 Look round, and put his sickle to the wheat? 

 Or hear the early mower whet his scythe, 

 And see where he has cut his sounding way, 

 E'en to the utmost edge of the brown field 

 Of oats or barley ? What delights us more 

 Than studiously to trace the vast effects 

 Of unabated labor ? To observe 

 How soon the oat and bearded barley fall, 

 In frequent lines before the keen-edged scythe? 



Then again, what a picture presents itself, 

 when all the laborers are dispersed over the 

 fields ! Some we see, bending forward over 



