400 



KIDD'S OWN JOUENAL, 



THE END OF AUTUMN. 



Autumn's last tints now linger on the trees; 

 The dying notes sound mournful on the breeze. 

 The wither'd leaves are floating on the stream, 

 Which glows no longer in the sunny beam ; 

 But onward, as it holds its ceaseless course, 

 Laments the parting year with murmurs hoarse. 

 The flowers are gone; scarce may a trace remain, 

 To tell where summer held her fairest reign. 

 The rose has breathed to heaven its latest sigh, 

 The Violet "veils in earth its deep blue eye; 

 The bright Carnation hides its spicy breast, 

 The maiden Lily doffs its snowy vest ; 

 The Woodbine and the Pea together sleep, 

 The slender Hare Bell long has ceased to weep. 

 All — all are fled; and nature wails their doom, 

 Chanting wild requiems round their lowly tomb! 

 The sun shines faintly through his misty shroud: 

 December hovers on his throne of cloud: 

 Far flies the voice of melody and gladness, 

 Before the stern approach of wintry sadness. 



NATURE'S GENTLEMAN. 



Whom do Ave dub a gentleman? 



The knave, the fool, the brute — 

 If they but own full tithe of gold, 



And wear a courtly suit. 

 The parchment scroll of titled line, 



The riband at the knee, 

 Can still suffice to ratify 



And grant such high degree. 



But Nature, with a matchless hand, 

 Sends forth hers nobly born ; 



And laughs the paltry attributes 

 Of wealth and rank to scorn; 



She moulds with care a spirit rare, 

 Half human, half divine — 



And cries, exulting, "Who can make 



A GENTLEMAN LIKE MINE? " 



She may not spend her common skill 



About the outward part, 

 But showers beauty, grace, and light, 



Upon the brain and heart: 

 She may not choose ancestral fame 



His pathway to illume ; 

 The sun that sheds the brightest day 



May rise from mist and gloom. 



There are some spirits nobly just, 



Unwarp'd by pelf or pride ; 

 Great in the calm, but greater still 



When dashed by adverse tide — 

 These hold the rank no king can give, 



No station can disgrace; 

 Nature puts forth her gentleman, 



And monarchs must give place. 



WHAT AM I TO THEE ?— 



on, the Question Answered. 



As a flower in the wilderness, 



As a spring in deserts lone, 

 As the honey- dew in bitterness, 



As the true when all are gone ; 

 As a sun-beam in the darkness, 



As a glance on summer's sea, 

 As sympathy in sadness, 



Art Thou, sweet love, to me. 



THE JOYS OE HOPE. 



BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 



Hope, as a bright and gentle flower, 



Beaming with loveliness ; 

 Cheerfully wafts a fragrance o'er 



The heart it loves to bless — 

 Dispersing with its grateful bloom 

 Even the sadness of the tomb. 



Here, gentle flower, pry' thee rest — 



All other joys have fled. 

 Oh make thy home within my breast, 



My heart shall be thy bed. 

 Best thee, sweet Hope, and ever be 

 The fairest flower that blooms to me. 



Hope, as a cheerful, happy bird, 



Our fond affection shares ; 

 Its soft and mellow notes are heard, 



To soothe our doubts and cares. 

 And when the heart's oppress'd with wrongs, 

 It sings to us its sweetest songs. 



Come, pretty bird, come live with me, 



Oh let me call thee mine! 

 Thou shalt my fondest treasure be, 



And I will ne'er repine, 

 If thou wilt sing that melody, 

 That bound my heart, sweet Hope, to thee ! 



Hope, like a brilliant star of light, 



Shines on our dreary way; 

 Cheering the gloominess of night 



With many a gentle ray — 

 Beaming with love and joy, to bless 

 The cheerless path of wretchedness. 



Oh ! I will love thee, gentle star, 



E'en as thou lovest me; 

 And though thy dwelling is afar, 



My heart shall live with thee. 

 My lips shall never cease to bless 

 The bright star of my happiness. 



A MAN KNOWN EY HIS DEESS. 



A Man's Mind is parcel of his fortunes,— his 

 taste is part of his dress. If we wore diamond 

 rings on our fingers, cameos in our breast-pins ; 

 if we sported cambric pocket-handkerchiefs 

 (breathing forth attar of rose, and other similar 

 smells,) and pale lemon-colored kid gloves, — our 

 emptiness of skull would become transparent to 

 every sensible mind. True modesty and real 

 merit are ever indicated by a quietness of apparel, 

 and a detestation of all ornament. How infalli- 

 bly do the "decorations" of the body, bespeak the 

 shallowness of the decorator's mind ! 



London : Published for "William Kidd, by William 

 Spooner, 379, Strand, (to whom all Letters, Parcels, 

 and Communications, Addressed to "the Editor," 

 and Books for Review, are to be forwarded) ; and 

 Procurable, by order, of every Bookseller and News- 

 vendor in the Kingdom. Agents: Dublin, John Wise- 

 heart; Edinburgh, John Menzies; Glasgow, John 

 M'Leod; Liverpool, Miss Meyrick, Hanover Street, 

 and J. Evans, 216, Falkner Street; Manchester, Abel 

 Hey wood, Oldham Street. 



City Agent : J. Allen, 20 , Warwick Lane, Paternoster 

 Row. Sold also by Berger, Yickers, Purkess, and 

 all the Wholesale Dealers. 



