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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



or not. Such was and such, is Olive Hatha- 

 way, the humble and gentle village mantua- 

 maker ; and such she is likely to continue ; 

 for, too refined for the youths of her own 

 station, and too unpretty to attract those 

 above her, it is very clear to me that my 

 friend Olive will be an old maid. There are 

 certain indications of character, too, which 

 point to that as her destiny : a particu- 

 larity respecting her tools of office, which 

 renders the misplacing a needle, the loss of 

 a pin, or the unwinding half an inch of 

 cotton, an evil of no small magnitude ; a 

 fidgetty exactness as to plaits and gathers, a 

 counting of threads and comparing of 

 patterns, which our notable housewives, who 

 must complain of something, grumble at as 

 waste of time ; a horror of shreds and litter, 

 which distinguishes her from all other man- 

 tua -makers that ever sewed a seam; and, 

 lastly a lover of animals, which has procured 

 for her the friendship and acquaintance of 

 every four-footed creature in the vicinity. 



This is the most suspicious symptom of 

 all. Not only is she followed and idolised 

 by the poor old cur which Eachael Strong 

 keeps to guard her house, and the still more 

 aged donkey that carries home her linen ; 

 but every cat, dog, or bird, every variety 

 of domestic pet that she finds in the different 

 houses where she works, immediately follow- 

 ing the strange instinct by which animals, 

 as well as children, discover who likes them, 

 makes up to and courts Olive Hathaway. 

 For her doth Farmer Brookes's mastiff — 

 surliest of watch-dogs — pretermit his inces- 

 sant bark ; for her, and for her only, will 

 Dame Wheeler's tabby cease to spit and 

 erect her bristles, and become, as nearly as 

 her spiteful cat can become so, gentle and 

 amiable ! Even the magpie at the Rose, most 

 accomplished and most capricious of all talk- 

 ing birds, will say, " Very well, ma'am," in 

 answer to Olive's " How d'ye do ?" and 

 whistle an accompaniment to her " God save 

 the King." after having persevered in a 

 dumb resentment for a whole afternoon. 

 There's magic about her placid smile and 

 her sweet low voice — no sulkiness of bird or 

 beast can resist their influence. And Olive 

 hath abundance of pets in return from my 

 greyhound, Mayflower, downwards ; and, 

 indeed takes the whole animal world under 

 her protection, whether pets or no ; begs off 

 condemned kittens, nurses sick ducklings, 

 will give her last penny to prevent an un- 

 lucky urchin from taking a bird's nest ; and 

 is cheated and laughed at for her tender- 

 heartedness, as is the way of the world in 

 such cases. 



Yes, Olive will certainly be an old maid, 

 and a happy one — content and humble, and 

 cheerful and beloved ! 



What can woman desire more ? 



FLOWERS ON THE TOMB. 



BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 



Oh, bright are the beautiful Flowers that bloom 

 Where the good and the brave calmly rest ! 



And sweet is the incense they waft o'er the tomb 

 Of the fairest — the dearest — the best ! 



They breathe a fond tale of affection and love ; 



They tell us that we too must fade — 

 And they point to a Heaven of glory above, 



To " a mansion that hands have not made." 



Oh, calm and serene be that dear little spot !* 



(Alas! 'tis our nature to weep!) 

 For let us remember the Good dieth not, 



Pie only " falls sweetly asleep." 



See our " last earthly home ! " Well, there's 

 "Love " in the whole 

 Of the gracious commands God has given; 

 With his " Word " he will re-unite body and 

 soul, 

 To live — aye for Ever! in Heaven. 



Let the walk through our Cemet'ries' paths be 

 revered, 

 By reflection on life's fleeting hours; 

 And the graves of the Friends we have lov'd be 

 endeared 

 By a beautiful " Garden of Flowers! " 



* Kensall- Green Cemetery. 



THE MAJESTY OE CHASTITY. 



She that is chaste, is clad in complete steel, 

 And, like a quivered nymph with arrows keen, 

 May trace huge forests and unharboured 



heaths, 

 Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds, 

 Where through the sacred rays of chastity, 

 No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer, 

 Will dare to soil her virgin purity. 

 Yea, there, where very desolation dwells, 

 By grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid 



shades, 

 She may pass on with unblench'd majesty, — 

 Be it not done in pride or in presumption. 



Milton. 



PSUDEEY. 



The unhealthy offspring of a wretchedly-dis- 

 ordered mind. A " something " which poisons 

 the atmosphere in which it moves. A disgust- 

 ing vice in fact, under the mean semblance of a 

 virtue. — Rev. Richard Cecil. 



notice to our subscribers. 



Stamped Covers for Volume I. of Our Journal, price 

 Is. 2d., also a copious Index, Title, and Preface to 

 Volume I., price 3d., are now ready, and may be had 

 of our Publisher. Also Volume I, price . r >s. cloth; 

 Post-free, 5s. 6d. ; and Vol. I., Part 2, price 3s. cloth. 



London : Published for William Kidd, by William 

 Spooner, 379, Strand, (to whom all Letters, Parcels, 

 and Communications, Addressed to "the Editor," 

 and Books for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and 

 Procurable, by order, of every Bookseller and News- 

 vendor in the Kingdom. Agents; Dublin, John Wise- 

 heart ; Edinburgh, John Menzies ; Glasgow, John 

 M'Leod. 



London : M. S. Myers, Printer, 22, Tavistock Street, Covent Garden. 



