KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL. 



287 



value of the bird- — its actual cost to us — but 

 he will deign us no answer ; in simple lan- 

 guage, we have been " clone," — foully done ! 

 Never again will we do a similar act of kind- 

 ness for anybody. The " milk of human 

 kindness " that ran in our veins, is at last 

 dried up for ever. — But now for our illus- 

 trative Tale, which we will call 



THE GOOD-NATURED MAN. 



My name is Gibbs, — old Gibbs of Nor- 

 wich. My good-nature has been my ruin. 

 I never could refuse doing a service in my 

 life ; whatever I might lose out of my 

 pockets, I never could find it in my heart. 

 My mouth had an invincible repugnance to 

 purse itself up into the circular form neces- 

 sary to the communication of the mono- 

 syllable " No." Whenever I took it in my 

 head to shake it at a request, it was no 

 great shakes ; and my friends always found 

 it difficult to construe anything T might 

 decline. I am the man, as Pope says, to 

 " explain the asking eye ; " and from long 

 experience, I can ascertain, at a glance, 

 whether my friend wishes to possess himself 

 of my watch, or my waistcoat — my purse or 

 my pantaloons — my money or my life. 

 What is the consequence ? From a com- 

 parative state of splendor, as the newspapers 

 call it, I am reduced to a positive state of 

 starvation ; and am, indeed, very much in 

 the situation of the enthusiastic entomolo- 

 gist, who had been hunting butterflies so 

 long, and to so little purpose, that he found 

 himself at last without any grub. 



My grandmother used to tell me that I 

 would give away my head, or any of my 

 more immediate personal property, if I were 

 asked for it ; and, upon my word, I believe 

 I should do so. It was strange, at one time, 

 to remark the manner in which I surrendered 

 my goods to my acquaintance. My coat 

 was torn from my shoulders — my cravat un- 

 twisted from my neck, — my shirt pulled 

 from my back, — my stockings unrolled from 

 my legs, — and my shoes snatched from my 

 feet, in succession. It would make a man's 

 hair stand on end, to observe an unprin- 

 cipled father coolly divest me of my wig, 

 while his unruly and impracticable brats 

 were swinging to and fro for their diversion, 

 suspended from my pig -tail ! Nor was this 

 all. My house, my furniture, my garden, 

 my stables, and my pigsty, were put into re- 

 quisition. Some kind ladies of my acquaint- 

 ance were pleased to admire the elegance 

 of my furniture : at a general meeting, one 

 inveterate old cat took the chair, another 

 sidled away with my sideboard, a third 

 turned the tables, not upon me, bat to her 

 own use, while a fourth pounced upon my 

 carpet and fire-irons. Did a friend wish a 



prolonged equestrian excursion, he ransacked 

 my stables without ceremony. Was his 

 wife squeamish, my cabbages were decapi- 

 tated, and they sequestered my sucking-pigs : 

 my cows were drawn dry by other people's 

 milk-maids, and the fruit of my orchard sup- 

 plied bowel complaints for the whole parish. 



My benevolent and amiable appearance 

 has, I feel, been the chief cause of my de- 

 privations. I look as though I could not 

 say " Bo," or rather " No," to a goose, or 

 any other species of wild-fowl ; I am fair 

 game for the base and unprincipled, and 

 there is no help in me. I detected a little 

 boy, the other day, with his hands in my 

 coat-pocket. He was, it appears, by his 

 own ex parte statement, merely warming his 

 fingers. I gently rebuked the child for his 

 imprudence, and dismissed him with a 

 paternal pat on the head. The boy, it seems, 

 was so affected by my kindness, that he 

 made use of my pocket-handkerchief — to 

 wipe his eyes with, no doubt — and forgot to 

 return it to me. 



But all is now at an end. I have no longer 

 anything whereof I may be deprived : I am 

 even out of bread, although it is made so 

 cheap by machinery. I gaze before me and 



I see nothing ; I look behind, nothing is there. 



II Nought is everything, and everything is nought." 



My friends have deserted me, now that I 

 have no more dinners to give, like swallows, 

 when the summer is no more ; and, thank 

 God ! they have taken their swallows with 

 them. 



Grieve must paint the scenery of my future 

 prospects. I have no coat to my back, and 

 that's the naked truth. I have not a chair 

 to sit upon ; what if I had ? but no matter ! 

 Alas ! I have given away too much ! I have 

 wasted everything ! 



I have at last, however, learned, "not 

 well, but too wisely," to take care of myself. 

 They told me that I must know and obey 

 the laws ; and I have taught myself, after 

 much difficulty, the first law of nature. I 

 am now a man of uncertain property. My 

 small remaining furniture may well be called 

 " moveables." I am never behind with them ; 

 though rent accrue, they are always in the 

 van. Last night I flitted — I " revisited the 

 glimpses of the moon" — and am now a lejt- 

 tenant without pay. 



Experience the Test of Truth. 



Human Experience, which is constantly con- 

 tradicting theory, is the great test of truth. A 

 system, huilt upon the discoveries of a great 

 many minds, is always of more strength than 

 what is produced by the mere workings of any 

 one mind, which of itself can do little. One day's 

 real experience is worth all the unconfirmed 

 theories ever propounded. 



