KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



191 



been before by any argument of his sister in 

 favor of her views ; ' but after all nature is 

 a good model. Cultivation improves, forcing 

 spoils her. Children are like plants — the sun 

 and air and some pruning, and a fair oppor- 

 tunity, are what they require ; but forced 

 fruits and flowers have no second bloom or 

 racy flavor, and I think the present system 

 of cramming produces parallel effects.' 



The "Rape of the Lock,"— a Eandom Shot. 



"There is nothing like my 'wide range '—only try it !" 



Captain Waknek. 



"Alas! alas! how true it is," says the author 

 of the " Lovers' Own Book," an amusing miniature 

 tome which has raised several smiles on our 

 cheek during its perusal, — "how true it is, that 

 those who are most endeared to each other are 

 generally the most quarrelsome on occasions! 

 I have myself been an eye-witness to the truth of 

 my remarks; but though I have endeavored to 

 reconcile the parties, I always found I was ' one 

 too many.' Lovers will have their quarrels, it is 

 true ; but they will ' confess ' to themselves and 

 to none other. And then, how sweet a moment 

 is that which brings about a reconciliation ! Both 

 parties seem astonished at their folly, and can- 

 not but wonder how they came to quarrel ! * * 

 However, there are some exceptions to every 

 rule. I remember an instance of two young per- 

 sons, something more than twenty years ago, 

 whose innocent flirtations while they lasted, 

 afforded me infinite amusement. The lady, who 

 lived at Exeter, was in every sense of the word 

 ' an angel,' — of a sweet temper, an obliging dis- 

 position, and beautiful countenance; indeed she 

 was the favorite, go where she might. Her 

 swain, an ardent youth, doated on the very 

 ground she walked on, and never seemed to be 

 in his right senses unless he was in her company. 

 It so happened that the young lady ' cultivated ' 

 a beautiful lock of hair (oh ! how magnificently 

 it curled!), which hung pendant over her snow- 

 white neck, and which excited, as well it might, 

 the envy of all her admirers (and they were by no 

 means few, for all who saw her could not help 

 loving her). Now it was well understood by all, 

 that this ' curl ' was sacred, and that it was death 

 by the law for any unhallowed hand to approach 

 it. And this law was like that of the Medes 

 and Persians, — it altered not. * * However, 

 one fatal evening (I positively tremble at the 

 recital), our love-sick, doating gentleman, despis- 

 ing all restraint and dying to possess this 

 luxuriant 'forbidden fruit,' watched his oppor- 

 tunity. A pair of small scissors, as ill luck would 

 have it, lay upon the table. He seized them, his 

 brain reeled ; and scarce knowing what he did, or 

 where he was, he suddenly found the ' prize ' his ! 

 He was in the immediate and positive possession 

 of that, which, while it remained in statu quo 

 was beautiful to behold ; but now, the ' charm ' 

 was broken, and he, conscience-stricken, an ob- 

 ject for intense pity ! The storm was not long 

 gathering (I feel sick at the recital); it fell — and 

 great was the fall thereof. * * * It was at 

 the least two months after this, before a recon- 



ciliation took place ; and then, only a very par- 

 tial one. The lady indeed ' said ' she forgave, 

 but she never "..forgot the injury; and her un- 

 happy admirer, quitting the scene of his by-gone 

 Elysian days, betook himself to the south of 

 France. * * By this, my male readers will 

 see that it is ' dangerous ' to play with ' edged 

 tools;' and they will, it is hoped, take timely 

 warning. My friend did indeed love! ' He loved, 

 not wisely — but too well.' " 



[As it is impossible to say who does, and who 

 does not read our Journal, let us, should this 

 fair lady chance to be living, and among those 

 who peruse our weekly lucubrations, urge her to 

 forgive the unhappy youth, — if perchance he also 

 survives. Then will he die "happy." There is 

 an air of • truth in the foregoing extract, that 

 savors much of the "romance of real life;" and 

 we should indeed like to be the means of effecting 

 at least a reconciliation in feeling between the 

 parties, — if nothing more. The office of an in- 

 tercessor is a kindly one. May the arrow, drawn 

 from our bow at a venture, hit the mark !] 



How to Destroy Fleas. 



"Our Bob," says Mr. Henslow, ofHitcham, 

 " clever dog as he is at a rat, cannot contrive to 

 rid himself of fleas. Partly Scotch terrier, and 

 partly undefined mongrel, he is short-necked 

 and short-legged as a turnspit. In spring and 

 autumn, more especially, the fleas take up their 

 quarters in two positions; one along his back, 

 and the other on his chest, where they increase 

 and multiply to an extent sufficient to make the 

 life of Bob very uncomfortable. I recommended 

 some sweet oil (any oil would have answered) to 

 be poured over the infested parts, and rubbed in 

 with a rag, knowing how instantly fatal such an 

 application would be to insect life. The applica- 

 tion succeeded perfectly. I am told, the dead 

 fleas tumbled out by scores ; and hundreds fell off 

 him as the rubbing proceeded. He was after- 

 wards washed with a solution of common soda, 

 in order to get rid of the oil; and Bob has as- 

 sumed the air of a decidedly comfortable dog ever 

 since." 



Love's Good-morrow, 



Shine brightly through her casement, sun ; 



Thou gale, soft odors bring her; 

 Ye merry birds that hail the clay, 



Your sweetest music sing her; 

 Smile, nature, on her, as she wakes, 



And hide all sights of sorrow; 

 And have no sounds but those of joy 



To bid my love — good morrow! 



Good morrow to those lustrous eyes, 



With bright good humor beaming! 

 Good morrow to those ruddy lips, 



Where smiles are ever teeming! 

 Good morrow to that happy face, 



Undimm'd as yet by sorrow ! 

 Long be thy head as free from care — 



Good morrow, love — good morrow ! 



