KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



373 



"hoppers" is a projecting rail, on which the 

 birds sit while eating; and, underneath, four 

 round holes, through which they put their 

 heads to get their seed. As the latter is 

 being cracked, and eaten, the hull falls to the 

 ground, and a fresh supply descends from 

 above — the apparatus itself being self-sup- 

 plying. 



Four of these " hoppers" should be sus- 

 pended on the wall, between and on each side 

 of the looking-glasses. They should be re- 

 gularly emptied and cleaned out twice every 

 month, as a quantity of dust, &c, is apt to 

 collect in them, thereby spoiling the food. 

 If kept half rilled only, this will prevent 

 waste. They are procurable, we should add, 

 of almost any London dealer in birds. 



_ The pans for the food of the soft-billed 

 birds, must be kept always on the ground. 

 "We should advise their being made of glass, 

 or china, and of a square form. 



The floor of the room should be cleansed 

 daily; and always kept well supplied with 

 small and pebbly gravel (well dried), and old 

 mortar well bruised. 



EXTRACTS FROM OUR NOTE-BOOK. 



THE FIRST FEELING OF WINTER. 



How delightfully the first feeling of winter 

 comes on the mind I What a throng of tran- 

 quillising and affectionate thoughts accompany its 

 first bright fires, and the sound out of doors of 

 its first chilling winds! Oh, when the leaves 

 are driven in troops through the streets at night- 

 fall, and the figures of the passers-by hurry on, 

 cloaked and stooping with the cold, is there a 

 pleasanter feeling in the world than to enter the 

 closed and carpetted room,with its shaded lamps 

 and its genial warmth and its cheerful faces about 

 the evening table? I hope that I speak your 

 own sentiments, dear reader, when I prefer to 

 every place and time in the whole calendar 

 of our pleasure, a winter evening at home — the 

 'sweet sweet home' of childhood, with its un- 

 reserved love, and its unchanged and unmeasured 

 endearments. We need not love gaiety the less. 

 The light and music and beauty of the dance, 

 will always breed a floating delight in the brain 

 that has grown dull to life's finer influences; 

 yet the pleasures of home, though serener, are 

 deeper, and I am sure that the world may be 

 searched over in vain for a sense of joy so even 

 and unmingled. 



It is a beautiful trait of Providence, that the 

 balance is kept so truly between our many and 

 different blessings. It were a melancholy thing 

 to see the summer depart with its superb 

 beauty, if the heart did not freshen as it turned 

 in from its decay to brood upon its own trea- 

 sures. The affections wander under the entice- 

 ment of all the outward loveliness of nature ; and 

 it is necessary to unwind the spell, that their 

 rich kindness may not become scattered and 

 visionaiy. I have a passion for these simple 

 theories which I trust will be forgiven. I in- 

 dulge in them as people pun. They are too 



shadowy for logic, it is true — like the wings 

 of the Glendoveer in Kehama, gauze-like and 

 filmy, but flying high withal. You may not 

 grow learned, but you surely will grow poeti- 

 cal upon them. I would as soon be praised 

 by a blockhead, as be ashed — the reason 1 . 



A SPRING DAY IN WINTER. 



A spring day sometimes bursts upon us in 

 December. One scarcely knows whether the con- 

 stant warmth of the fire, or the fresh sunny 

 breathings from the open window, are the most 

 welcome. At such a time, the curtains swing 

 lazily to the mild wind as it enters; the light 

 green leaves of the sheltered flowers stir and 

 erect themselves with an out-of-door vigor; and 

 the shuffled steps and continued voices of the 

 children in the street, have the loitering and 

 6ummer-like sound of June. I do not know whe- 

 ther it is not a cockney feeling, but with all my 

 love for the country, fixed as it is by the recol* 

 lections of a life mostly spent in the " green 

 fields" I sometimes " babble of," there is some- 

 thing in a summer morning in the city, which 

 the wet, warm woods, and the solitary, though 

 lonely, haunts of the country, do not, after all 

 the poetry that has been ' spilt upon them' (as 

 Neale would say), at all equal. Whether it is 

 that we find so much sympathy in the many 

 faces that we meet, made happy by the same 

 sweet influences, or whatever else may be the 

 reason, — certes, I never take my morning walk 

 on such a day without a leaping in my heart, 

 which from all I can gather by dream or reve- 

 lation, has a touch in it of Paradise. 



I returned once on a day, from an hour's 

 ramble after breakfast. The air rushed past 

 my temples with the grateful softness of spring, 

 and every face that passed had the open, inhaling 

 expression which is given by the simple joy of 

 existence. The sky had the deep clearness of 

 noon. The clouds were winnowed in light pa- 

 rallel curves, looking like white shells inlaid on 

 the arched heavens. The smooth, glassy bay was 

 like a transparent abyss opening to the earth's 

 centre; and edging away underneath, with a 

 slope of hills and spires and leafless woods, co- 

 pied minutely and perfectly from the upper 

 landscape; and the naked elms seemed almost 

 clothed as the teeming eye looked on them; and 

 the brown hills took a tint of green — so freshly 

 did the summer fancies crowd into the brain 

 with the summer softness of the sunshine and 

 air ! 



The mood is rare in which the sight of human 

 faces does not give us pleasure. It is a curious 

 occupation to look on them as they pass, and 

 study their look and meaning, and wonder at 

 the providence of God, which can provide in this 

 crowded world an object and an interest for all. 

 With what a singular harmony the great machine 

 of society goes on! So many thousand minds, and 

 each with its peculiar cast and positive difference 

 from its fellow, and yet no dangerous interference, 

 and no discord audible above the hum of its 

 daily revolution ! I could not help feeling a re- 

 ligious thrill as I passed face after face, with 

 this thought in my mind; and saw each one ear- 

 nest and cheerful, each one pressing on with its 



