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KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



out to us beauties innumerable, that would, 

 without his aid, have been passed by unseen. 

 What a noble, stately, and delightful avenue 

 this is ! and into what beautiful adjacent 

 scenery does it not lead us ! — wood and 

 dell, hill and valley, alternating far and 

 wide in the distance, and affording the eye 

 the most delicious prospect. Had the horizon 

 been more distinctly clear than it was (there 

 was a partial blight), the charm would have 

 been even heightened ; but as it was, our 

 enjoyment was perfect. 



Continuing our walk across wooded parks, 

 through verdant fields, and along a pretty 

 road thickly skirted by fast-growing fir 

 trees, we at last found ourselves in the pic- 

 turesque little churchyard of Willesden. 

 Here there is a rookery ; and here we found 

 the commonwealth all busily occupied in 

 feeding their young, and teaching them how 

 to fly. A pretty sight is a rookery ; and al- 

 though we cannot in the abstract say that 

 the voices of rooks are harmonious, yet, in 

 connection with the situation they occupy, 

 we might readily learn to think them so. 

 Before we left the churchyard, a little miss, 

 in a dirty pinafore, wanted to escort us to 

 the grave of Jack Sheppard's mother ! We 

 wonder if she took either of us for Blueskin, 

 or recognised in us any resemblance to Paul 

 Bedford ! At all events, we declined the 

 honor of an introduction to "Jack Shep- 

 pard's mother." 



On quitting the churchyard, there stood 

 immediately before us the village " cage; 1 ' in 

 which, we opine, many an insubordinate has 

 done penance. It is round, and built a la 

 turret. We did not go in ! Something more 

 inviting was in view, — we mean that very 

 pretty and picturesque place of entertain- 

 ment, the White Hart. Here we were in- 

 deed " at home." We had a flower garden, a 

 fruit garden,* a bowling green, a lawn, a 

 pond well stocked with gold and silver fish, 

 and a multitude of je ne scai quois, which 



* As you/enter this garden, there is painted on 

 a board opposite the gate (on the obverse side of 

 which board is a hive of bees), some poetry. 

 Who the Poet Laureate to the garden may be, 

 we know not, — perhaps Baron Nathan? 



You are welcome to view 



The beauties of this place; 

 Raised by the gardener 



On Nature's face. 



Here feast your eyes, for it's 



"With pleasure full ; 

 But let no rude hand 



The fruit or flowers pull. 



For pulling the fruit, 

 Without the Gardener's leave, 



Mankind was ruined 

 Br our Mother Eve. 



were quite delightful. Seated in the open 



air, — 



The sky our canopy, 



And the grass our pillow, — 



we discharged the last outstanding obliga- 

 tion due to the fair and liberal provider of our 

 savory feast. The pate's here met their final 

 fate. And let us add, as faithful historians 

 of undoubted facts, that the malt liquor, 

 drawn on two several occasions by the fair 

 hand of a black-eyed Syren in " the little 

 parlor,," (a nice, trim, genteel little craft — the 

 landlord's daughter, we guess), imparted an 

 additional zest to the meal, — a zest, the re- 

 membrance of which liketh us so well, that 

 we shall write against it, — " To be repeated 

 occasionally." During our repast, several 

 carriages (one with a postilion) drove round 

 the grounds. Our occupation — for we were 

 very busy, caused many a pleasing smile 

 from the fair " insides ;" which smiles we of 

 course, being so " happy," returned with be- 

 coming eloquence, — " con exprezzione " is, we 

 believe, the proper term. 



The shades of evening found us prepared 

 to go en avance; and as the lark carolled his 

 vesper hymn above us, we wended our way 

 across Old Oak Common, and through East 

 Acton, to our happy homes. 



We must add, as a note, that we found 

 vegetation very backward, and many of the 

 wild flowers behind time in making their 

 debut. The want of rain was everywhere 

 observable, and the effects of the late cold 

 easterly winds met us at every turn. Still, 

 Nature was cheerful and active, and only 

 waiting the bidding of the Higher Powers to 

 gird herself with her great strength. We 

 found lambkins in abundance frisking in the 

 paddocks; and everything that had breath 

 (man alone excepted!) praising its Maker. 

 Some dear little children too we saw in our 

 rambles, rejoicing in health and innocence ; 

 and many an impression did w r e irnocently 

 take from each of their coral lips. What 

 with birds, flowers, lambs, children, black- 

 eyed Syrens, and pate's, — long shall we re- 

 member the 13th day of April, 1852. 



PERSECUTED ANIMALS. 



An Apology for Various Supposed Injurious 

 Creatures. — No. III. 



BY BEVERLEY R. MORRIS, ESQ., A.B., M.D. 

 [Continued from page 258.] 



I NOW return to our interesting subject 

 of Inquiry, and next in order, among the 

 persecuted race of birds, I would particu- 

 larise, — 



The Tawney Owl (Strix stridula). 



This bird, in common with all its con- 



