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KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



broken up; a big tear overflowed its banks. 

 I caught the infection. Now, I never saw a 

 tear on a woman's cheek but I longed to kiss 

 it from its resting place — that is to say, pro- 

 vided the thing was practicable ; and whe- 

 ther or not I reduced this principle into 

 practice on the present occasion, I can't con- 

 ceive the sovereign people have any right to 

 inquire Be this as it may, at that time her 

 lips were her own ; she had no Lord Gold- 

 schmidt to dispute an old man's privilege ! " 



Grant Thorburn ! This last paragraph 

 of thine, proves thee to be — one of us ! 



SELECT POETRY. 



BLESS THAT DIMPLE! 



BY C. A. BRIGGS. 



One morning in the blossoming May, 

 A child was sporting 'mongst the flowers ; 



Till, wearied out with his restless play, 



He laid him down to dream away 



The long and scorching noontide hours. 



At length, an angel's unseen form 



Farted the air with a conscious thrill ; 

 And poised itself, like a presence warm, 



Above the boy, who was slumbering still. 

 Never before had so fair a thing 

 Stayed the swift speed of its shining wing; 

 And gazing down, with a wonder rare, 

 On the beautiful face of the dreamer there, 

 The angel stooped to kiss the child. 

 When lo! at the touch the baby smiled; 

 And just where the unseen lips had prest, 

 A dimple lay in its sweet unrest, 

 Sporting upon its cheek of rose — 

 Like a ripple waked from its light repose 

 On a streamlet's breast, when the soft wind 



blows. 

 And the angel passed from the sleeping one, 

 For his mission to earth, that day, was done. 



A fair face bent above the boy — 



It must have been the child's own mother; 

 For never would such pride and joy 



Have grac'd the face of any other— 

 And while she gaz'd, the quiet air 

 Grew tremulous with a whispered prayer : 

 Anon it ceased, and the boy awoke, 

 And a smile of love o'er his features broke. 

 The mother marked with a holy joy 

 The dimpling cheek of her darling boy, 

 And caught him up, while a warm surprise 

 Stole like a star to her midnight eyes; 

 And she whispered low, as she gently smiled — 

 " I know an angel has kissed my child ! " 



[We have ever loved to behold a dimple on a 

 pretty face. We shall now feast on it with an 

 increased delight. We never before knew its 

 origin; yet we might and ought to have 

 " guessed " it.— Ed. K. J.] 



Praise is poison to an ambitious man, for it 

 leads him beyond the scope of honesty. 



ORIGINAL POETRY. 



THE GOOD SHI? " HONESTY." 



BY HELEN HETHER1NGTON. 



On, on the " good ship ' Honesty," 



Rode o'er the dark stormy seas '■> 

 Breasting the tempest gallantly, 



Fearlessly braving the breeze ! 



Proudly she rose on the billow, 



Nobly she dash'd through the foam ; 



Calm as a child on its pillow, 

 Peacefully dreaming of " Home." 



Banners of "Love " floated o'er her, 



" Energy " stood at the helm ; 

 Firm and undaunted he bore her 



From dangers that sought to o'envhelm. 



Cheer'd by the bright stars appearing. 

 Wafted by " Friendship's'' light breeze, 



The haven of " Joy " she is n earing, 

 " Hope's " peaceful refuge she sees ! 



Gaily her pennant is streaming; 



Onward! She'll soon reach the mark; 

 Lights from the beacons are beaming — 



" Hurrah, for our ' dear little bark ! '" 



EEWASDS 01 FIDELITY. 



Whatever else you may do, never forsake a 

 friend. When enemies gather around, when 

 sickness falls on the heart, when the world is 

 dark and cheerless, is the time to try true friend- 

 ship. They who turn from the scene of distress 

 betray their hypocrisy, and prove that interest 

 only moves them. If you have a friend who 

 loves you, who has studied your interest and 

 happiness, be sure to sustain him in adversity. 

 Let him feel that his former kindness is appre- 

 ciated, and that his love was not thrown away. 

 Real fidelity may be rare, but it exists — in the 

 heart. They only deny its worth, and power, 

 who never loved a friend or labored to make a 

 friend happy. 



HARMLESS PLEASURES. 



Gather the rose-buds while ye may, 



Old Time is still a-flying; 

 And that same flower which blooms to-day 



To-morrow shall be dying. Herrick. 



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 of our Publisher. Also Volume I., price 5s. cloth • 

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