KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



" affectionate " I am (a point on which I am aware 

 you are justly particular), you would at once 

 oblige me. I have a very pretty garden, nicely 

 walled in ; and I take such delight in it that I 

 seldom want to go abroad for other amusement. 

 Thus have I made you my " confessor," and 

 most anxiously do I await your reply. — Fanny 

 B., Clapham. 



[Oh, Fanny, Fanny! How are our words 

 wasted, week after week ; and how vainly do we 

 preach against cruelty whilst you young ladies 

 will continue to practise it! We do not in this 

 case, call you cruel; for you have had a present 

 made you, and you show a disposition to lavish 

 your " affection " on the prisoners of whom you 

 have the charge. Let us then see what is to be 

 done. If " expense be no object" (as the style 

 and character of your letter, from which we 

 have quoted, leads us to believe), obtain five 

 cages. Place one bird by itself in a separate 

 cage. The length of each cage should be two 

 feet, width ten and a half inches, and the 

 height fourteen inches. The back, top, and sides 

 of each, should be boarded; with wire in the 

 front only. Two perches should be placed in 

 each cage, crosswise; and one long perch from 

 end to end at the front, where the birds come to 

 eat their food. Besides these, there should be 

 two brass-fronted tin pans for food; and a hole 

 in the wire large enough to admit the bird's 

 head, when drinking. Add to this a small 

 round glass, moderately deep, filled with water, 

 and placed in one extremity of the cage for 

 washing in, and the habitation is completed. It 

 will be highly requisite to hang the cages one 

 above (or side by side with) the other, so that 

 the birds can never see each other; else, such is 

 their inherent jealousy, song will be out of the 

 question. The reason for our recommending 

 all your birds to be caged up, is, that out of the 

 number one or two fine songsters may be secured. 

 "When satisfied as to the merits of your birds, let 

 those which are least musical fly. They will 

 never leave the garden after you have once 

 tamed them; but will be constant visitors at 

 your window. As robins, and indeed all 

 birds of the soft-billed kind, are for fhe most 

 part insectivorous, it is absolutely necessary 

 to feed them upon what most closely assimi- 

 lates with their natural and proper aliment. 

 This, from long experience, we have proved to 

 be raw meat, and yolk of egg, boiled very hard; 

 providing them at the same time with a small 

 quantity of other food, composed of bruised 

 hempseed, stale buns, and Clifford's German 

 paste, or mild cheese, — the whole rubbed small, 

 and mixed well together with the white of the 

 same egg whose yolk you have already used. 

 This must be fresh every morning; as must also 

 the water for washing and drinking. The meat 

 must be rump, or very tender lean beef- steak, 

 scraped (the smooth way of the grain) with a 

 sharp table-knife and it must afterwards be care- 

 fully freed from strings and fibres. Add the 

 yolk of a hard-boiled egg, and moisten with cold 

 water, till the whole substance assumes a mode- 

 rately soft, but not " watery " paste ; and give 

 some of it, when so prepared, to each bird, in a 

 small round dolls' saucer. It is possible, when 

 your birds have moulted and donned their 



scarlet livery, that they will prefer the German 

 paste, egg, cheese, and bun, to the raw meat, — 

 especially if you treat them now and then to a 

 mealworm. In their youth, however, it is needful 

 to feed them on the meat, — else they would 

 become attenuated and die. Robins, like the 

 nightingale, are very affectionate ; and it rests 

 with yourself to make a conquest of their hearts. 

 They must, we opine, be hard-hearted indeed if 

 they are indifferent to your good offices, — else 

 are we no judges of character from a person's 

 handwriting. You mny consult us again, Miss 

 Fanny, if you please. You know that, quite as 

 well as we do !] 



The Robin,— a l Dab'' at Butter! — I don't know, 

 Mr. Editor, if you are aware of it, but butter is 

 so great a dainty to these birds, that in a friend's 

 house, frequented by one or two of them, the ser- 

 vant was obliged to be very careful in keeping 

 what was in her charge covered, to save it from 

 destruction; if unprotected, it was certain to be 

 eaten. I have known them to visit laborers at 

 breakfast hour, to eat butter from their hands, and 

 enter a lantern to feast on the candle. One, as I 

 have been assured, was in the constant habit of 

 entering a house in a tan-yard, in Belfast, by the 

 Avinclow, that it might feed upon talloAv, when 

 the men were using this substance in the prepa- 

 ration of the hides. But even further than this. 

 I have seen the redbreast exhibit its partiality 

 for scraps of fat, &c. Being present one day in 

 December, 1837, when a golden eagle was fed, a 

 robin, to my surprise, took the eagle's place on 

 the perch the moment that he descended from 

 it to the ground to eat some food given him, and 

 when there, picked off some little fragments of 

 fat, or scraps of flesh ; this done, it quite uncon- 

 cernedly alighted on the chain by which the 

 " rapacious" bird was fastened. I mention these 

 observations of mine, with a view to have them 

 confirmed by others, who no doubt have had 

 similar opportunities for noticing the robin's pen- 

 chant for butter. — G. II., Stepney. 



[We are well aware of the robin's love of 

 cheese ; but we never particularly noticed his 

 affection for butter or tallow. He has often shared 

 our bread and butter at the breakfast-table, but 

 he ate it fairly. We never found anything left ! J 



How many Opportunities there are for doing 

 Good ! — Are there not, Mr.Editor? Nor is it right 

 to withhold even the smallest effort, when oppor- 

 tunity offers. A single penny, given in cases of 

 extremity, has saved many a man's life. Why 

 then not be liberal in feeling, even when the 

 purse is low? 



What if the little rain should say, 



" So small a drop as I 

 Can ne'er refresh those thirsty fields ; 



I'll tarry in the sky?" 



What if a shining beam of noon 



Should in its fountain stray, 

 Because its feeble light alone 



Cannot create a day ? 



Doth not each rain-drop help to form 



The cool, refreshing sbower ? 

 And every ray of light to charm 



And beautify the flower ? 



I say, Mr. Editor, each one of us can do some- 

 thing; and if you think the "hint" worthy of a 



