KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



255 



turn the cultivable resources of the country to 

 account. If there are towns occupied with people 

 possessing the habits of Europeans, they cannot 

 think themselves healthy and happy unless they 

 eat vegetables of some kind with their native beef 

 and mutton. Let there be no mistake however; 

 would think of going to such a 



no 



gardener 



country under such circumstances, with the no- 

 tion of being a gardener in the sense in which we 

 use the term at home. He must be prepared to 

 be a gardener, a farmer, a hewer of wood, or a 

 carrier of water : in a word, he must be an adapt- 

 able being, ready to fall into any stream of 

 human events the most likely to carry him safely 

 in the direction which he desires to pursue. — 

 What think you of this, Mr. Editor? — Arvensis. 

 [We think there is some good sense in the 

 drift of the article we have copied. We have 

 printed the last sentence in italics, to mark our 

 own view of the general question.] 



Spangled Hamburgh Fowls. — Are these a good 

 sort to keep, Mr. Editor, and can you tell me 

 something about them? Are they good layers, 

 and profitable for the table? — Amelia P., Read- 

 ing. 



[The Spangled Hamburgh Fowl, Miss MmnstY, 

 is indeed a beautiful creature ; the gold and silver 

 are equally valuable. They lay a good-sized egg, 

 but are certainly more kept for their beauty, than 

 for profit. The bird is handsomely shaped. 

 Above its crest, occupying the usual place of a 

 comb, is a large brown or yellow tuft. Under 

 the lower mandible, is another tuft, dark colored 

 and somewhat resembling a beard. Its wattles 

 are small. The hackles on the neck of the gold 

 spangled, are of a bright orange or golden yellow. 

 The body color is also of a similar cast, but 

 darker. The thighs are usually of a dark brown, 

 or blackish shade; and the legs and feet are of 

 a blueish grey. It is singular to observe the 

 freaks of nature with regard to these birds. We 

 have known some of the pure breed to have 

 green legs (this, in one and the same brood); 

 some have been dark, some light, some of a dimi- 

 nutive size, and some unusually large. Still, 

 these are far from being drawbacks to their 

 beauty, or to their value, as " fancy birds." It 

 makes a most pleasing variety. The silver differ 

 little from the other ; the only perceptible variation 

 is in the ground color being of a silvery white. 

 The extreme ends of the feathers are black, so 

 also is a portion of the extreme end of each fea- 

 ther. The appearance of the bird, when standing 

 quiet, is that of an animal marked with semi- 

 circular spangles, all extremely regular and well 

 defined. They are very healthy, if properly 

 attended to ; and very affectionate in their ha- 

 bits, well knowing and loving the hand that feeds 

 them. Now, Miss Minny, you can provide 

 yourself with some of these " beauties " as soon 

 as you think proper, and you may always seek 

 refuge under our wing for aid and advice. How- 

 ever, you know this too well for us to have occa- 

 sion to repeat it.] 



True goodness is like the glow-worm; it 

 shines most when no eyes save those of Heaven 

 are upon it. 



THE AUTUMN ROBIN. 



BY JOHN CLARE. 



Sweet little bird in russet coat, 



The livery of the closing year! 

 I love thy lonely plaintive note, 



And tiny whispering song, to hear. 

 While on the stile, or garden-seat, 



I sit to watch the falling leaves, 

 The song thy little joys repeat, 



My loneliness relieves. 



And many are the lonely minds 



That hear, and welcome thee anew; 

 Not taste alone, but humble hinds, 



Delight to praise and love thee too. 

 The veriest clown, beside his cart, 



Turns from his song with many a smile, 

 To see thee from the hedgerow start, 



To sing upon the stile. 



The shepherd on the fallen tree 



Drops down to listen to thy lay, 

 And chides his dog beside his knee, 



Who barks and frightens thee away. 

 The hedger pauses, ere he knocks 



The stake down in the meadow-gap — 

 The boy, who every songster mocks, 



Forbears the gate to clap. 



When in the hedge that hides the post, 



Thy ruddy bosom he surveys, — 

 Pleased with thy song, in transport lost, 



He pausing mutters scraps of praise. 

 The maiden marks, at day's decline, 



Thee in the yard, on broken plough, 

 And stops her song, to listen thine, 



Milking the brindled cow. 



Thy simple faith in man's esteem, 



From every heart hath favor won : 

 Dangers to thee no dangers seem — 



Thou seem'st to court them more than shun. 

 The clown in winter takes his gun, 



The barn-door flocking birds to slay, 

 Yet should'st thou in the danger run, 



He turns the tube away. 



The Gispy boy, who seeks in glee 



Blackberries for a dainty meal, 

 Laughs loud on first beholding thee, 



When called, so near his presence steal. 

 He surely thinks thou knew'st the call ; 



And though his hunger ill can spare 

 The fruit, he will not pluck it all, 



But leaves some to thy share. 



Upon the ditcher's spade thou'lt hop, 



For grubs and writhing worms to search; 

 Where woodmen in the forest chop, 



Thou'lt fearless on their faggots perch ; 

 Nay, by the Gipsies' camp I stop, 



And mark thee well a moment there, 

 To prune thy wings awhile, then drop 



The littered crumbs to share. 



Domestic bird ! thy pleasant face 



Doth well thy common suit commend; 

 To meet thee in a stranger-place 



Is meeting with an ancient friend. 

 I track the thicket's gloom around, 



And there, as loth to leave, again 

 Thou comest, as if thou knew the sound, 



And loved the sight of men. 



