KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



265 



to cold and frost. Equally reluctant is the 

 nasturtium to bid us adieu. The ivy, and 

 clematis, are also richly clad. The more 

 tender flowers have dropped their little 

 heads : — 



Of the brightness and beauty of summer and 



spring, 

 There is little left, but the roses that blow 

 By this friendly wall. To its covert they cling, 

 And eagerly smile in each sunbeam's glow: 

 But when the warm beam is a moment with- 

 drawn, 

 And the lov'd whistling breeze sweeps over the 



lawn, 

 Their beauteous blossoms, so fair and forlorn, 

 Seem to shrink from the wind which ruffles 

 them so. 



When the roses are gone, we shall have 

 lost half our heart. Without them, the gar- 

 den looks robbed of half its glory. The 

 same with the hedges. When the wild rose 

 meets our eye for the last time, we feel that 

 their glory has departed. This last " pale 

 promise of the waning year," will soon be 

 gone. We make the most of them while 

 they last. The watering places are now 

 becoming deserted. The equinoctial gales 

 have disturbed all the serenity of walks by 

 moonlight, and rambles on the sands. 

 " Home'' now has charms beyond all other 

 thoughts. 



We are rather singular in our fancies. 

 When others forsake the sea-side, we love to 

 revel there — in the sublimity of the season. 

 The ocean is a grand picture to gaze on. It 

 wakens majestic thoughts, as in its fury it 

 rolls fearfully onwards. We like to see it 

 in its wildness : — 



Terrible ocean ! thou hast indeed a power, 

 A will, a voice; and in thy wrathful hour, 

 When thou dost lift thine anger to the clouds, 

 A fearful and magnificent beauty shrouds 

 Thy broad green forehead. If thy waves be 



driven 

 Backwards and forwards by the shifting wind, 

 How quickly dost thou thy great strength un- 

 bind, 

 And stretch thine arms, and war at once with 

 Heaven! 



Who would imagine, whilst surveying this 

 mass of water, agitated to an extent almost 

 overpowering to behold, that its gentleness 

 is sometimes lamb-like ! Whoever has 

 seen the two extremes, has indeed seen a 

 sight of wonder ! 



Oh! wonderful thou art, great element; 

 Fearful to witness when on mischief bent, 

 Yet lovely in repose ; thy summer form 

 Is beautiful ; and when thy silver waves 

 Make music in earth's dark and winding caves, 

 We love to wander on thy pebbled beach, 

 Marking the sunlight at the evening hour, 

 And hearken to the thoughts thy waters teach, — 

 Eternity, Eternity, and Bower ! 



It is highly dangerous to indulge in a poet- 

 ical strain ; and we are really obliged to the 

 printer, on the present occasion, for shout- 

 ing out to us in perfectly intelligible prose, 

 — that we must " hold hard." We know not 

 when we should have stopped but for this ! 



ORIGINAL COPJLESFONDENCE. 



Water for Ever ! — All honor be to " Our Own 

 Editor," and his admirable " Code of Health!" 

 * * * Listen, my dear Sir, to what Cobbett 

 says on the subject of Water, as a beverage. 

 All who knew him can testify to the honesty of 

 his remarks. " In the midst of a society where 

 wine and spirits are considered as of little more 

 value than water, I have lived two years without 

 either; and with no other drink but water : except 

 when I have found it convenient to obtain milk. 

 Not an hour's illness; not a headache for an hour; 

 not the smallest ailment; not a restless night; not 

 a drowsy morning have I known during these two 

 famous years of my life. The sun never rises 

 before me; I have always to wait for him to 

 come and give me light to write by, while my 

 mind is in full vigor, and while nothing has come 

 to cloud its clearness." I hope your " Code of 

 Health," Mr. Editor, will be adopted all over the 

 world. It would make better hearts, and heal- 

 thier bodies; better men, better women, and 

 better children — and how many better Chris- 

 tians? — Vigil. 



Honors pail to the Rose. — The rose, Mr. Edi- 

 tor, is more esteemed, perhaps, than any one of 

 our flowers. Its name is in everybody's mouth. 

 And to what uses is it not put ! First, we have 

 rose-water. This is distilled from the petals of 

 pale roses, in preference to deep red ones, mixed 

 with a small quantity of water; and in France 

 those of the musk-rose are preferred where they 

 can be obtained. This product of the rose was 

 known to the Greeks in the time of Homer, and 

 to Avicenna among the Arabs, a.d. 980. It is 

 more or less in use in every civilised country 

 for the toilette, and on occasions of festivals and 

 religious ceremonies. Vinegar of roses is made 

 by simply infusing dried rose petals in the best 

 distilled vinegar. It is used on the Continent 

 for curing headaches, produced by the vapors of 

 charcoal or the heat of the sun. For this pur- 

 pose, clothes or linen rags, moistened with the 

 vinegar, are applied to the head, and left there 

 till they are dried by evaporation. Spirit of 

 roses is procured by distilling rose petals with a 

 small quantity of spirits of wine. This produces 

 a very fragrant spirit, which, when mixed with 

 sugar, makes the liqueur known in France by the 

 name of L'Huile de Eoso; it also forms the 

 ground-work of the liqueur called Parfait 

 Amour. Conserve of Roses is prepared by bruis- 

 ing in a mortar the petals with their weight of 

 sugar, till the whole forms a homogeneous mass, 

 In the earlier ages, according to Rosembourgh. 

 in his " History of the Rose " (published in 

 1631), the rose was a specific against every 

 disease. It was much in use in the time of 

 Gerard, and is still employed in the composition 

 of electuaries and many other medicines. Attar of 



