KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



345 



love to the Creator. Most assuredly not. 

 One of our correspondents innocently asks 

 us — what she may harmlessly do on Sunday, 

 and what she may not do? This is the 

 very point Ave want to canvas — the sole 

 object of this paper. 



Our Sabbath is observed in a marvellously 

 odd manner. Some shut themselves up 

 altogether, and will not be seen on that 

 day. Some think they are best at home, 

 and remain there. Others go to an infinity 

 of places of worship. Some yawn ; some 

 sleep ; some laugh ; and some sigh. Some 

 go because they think it right to go ; 

 others, because it is the custom. Some go 

 to see their neighbors in new dresses ; and 

 others go bowed down with a weight of 

 finery that it is alarming to behold. These 

 stately women are followed by some tall 

 stiff men in plush — carrying a portable 

 library of large, superbly-bound books, with 

 gold clasps ; and thus furnished, the cere- 

 monies begin. Far be it from us to deduce 

 any unfair inferences j but we do hate 

 hypocrisy. Shocking is it to behold certain 

 people, partake of certain solemn rites in 

 certain churches, and return home to turn 

 the whole observance into a broad jest. 

 Yet is this regularly done once a month, or 

 oftener. 



We have had our say on this matter. Now 

 for a word to our innocent correspondent, 

 Clarissa. You ask us, Mademoiselle — what 

 you may do, and what you may not do, on 

 the Sabbath ? Our answer shall be explicit. 

 We all profess to love our Creator — do we 

 not ? Well then, our first study should be 

 to please Him. To do this, the utmost sincerity 

 and honesty are requisite. Let us adduce a 

 pleasing illustration of our meaning. 



Supposing, Clarissa, that there existed 

 between us two, a feeling of the most affec- 

 tionate regard; and that our love for each 

 other was, as it ought to be, pure and sincere. 

 Suppose, also, that by circumstances we were 

 separated by a long intervening distance. 

 What should we do, to prove to each other 

 the fervor and intensity of the love that 

 existed in our hearts ? Should we study 

 how short our letters might be ? Should we 

 try how little time we could devote to each 

 other— and go as close to the wind as we 

 could, to satisfy the demands of propriety 

 and " customary" etiquette ? 



We imagine that such a course of action 

 as this, would not go far to prove us worthy 

 of each other, or to prove the sincerity of 

 our love. There may be such love, we grant ; 

 but WE cannot recognise it under that name. 

 No ! We should write letters by the quire — 

 by the ream, if opportunity offered. Each 

 missive should be more tender than the last. 

 This would be the spontaneous effusion of a 

 chaste, loving heart; and would establish 



the fact of a willing sacrifice. Apply this to 

 the observance of the Sabbath, and your 

 question is answered. 



Whatever you do in the way of observing 

 this sacred day, do it with all your heart. 

 If hypocrisy and formality be the main- 

 springs of action — not only is the offered sacri- 

 fice detestable in the sight of the Creator, 

 but you become a despicable, artificial cha- 

 racter. You pretend to be what you are not ; 

 you pass yourself off as a religious person, 

 when your conscience gives the lie to your 

 actions. 



Believe us, Clarissa, to be perfectly 

 sincere in our remarks. The moment we 

 begin to form a nice calculation as to what 

 we may do, and what we may not do — and to 

 measure our performances by a mathematical 

 rule of exactness, we are wrong. If we love 

 our Creator, we shall rejoice to serve him. 

 Duties will sit light upon us, and our heart 

 will be at his disposal. Coldness, formality, 

 hopocrisy, deceit, and worldly guile, rule nine 

 tenths of the present generation. Hence the 

 hollow state of the "World we live in." 



The seventh day of the week, Clarissa, 

 devoted to a round of dry, unsatisfactory 

 observances, will never satisfy an honest 

 heart. Nor will the mere presentation of a 

 person's body within our walls of brick and 

 stone on that day, make him a Christian. 



Six days spent as we list, and the seventh 

 devoted to rubbing out our offences of the 

 week — may do for us : but the Eye above us 

 is not to be so deceived. So, whatever we 

 do, let it proceed from a heart honest as the 

 light of day. Then shall we be a happy 

 people, and the world a land of blessedness. 



This is our Eeligious Code. We have 

 stated it — once and for ever. 



ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE. 



A Case of Conscience. — A few months since, 

 Mr. Editor, you rated some of your readers 

 soundly, for lending your Journal to their 

 friends — after they had themselves perused it. 

 You remarked — how could you afford to pro- 

 duce the Journal, and " live ;" if such unfair- 

 ness were practised generally ? Your remark 

 was manly ; and no less manly than just. 

 Listen, one moment. I have wished to do you 

 some good. I have "lent" your Journal, — or 

 rather Our Journal, to hosts of people — far and 

 near. All are delighted with it, — of course. 

 Well, ought you to sutler by this? Oh — no! 

 Enclosed are two sovereigns, to which you are 

 justly entitled for the benefits you have dis- 

 pensed, through the Journal, to the hearts of 

 so many admiring readers. Believe me your 

 very sincere, but unknown friend, — J. J., 

 Worcester. 



[As our " Chancellor of the Exchequer" words 

 it, — " We beg to acknowledge the receipt of two 

 sovereigns, ' Conscience money,' transmitted to 

 us bv J. J., Worcester." But we are not so 



