
KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 
51 

Heath, appreciated alike by the monarch and the 
mechanic, and continues to the well-known Firs, 
from whence is enjoyed a lovely view of Harrow 
and the western country, unsurpassed by the 
imaginings of Claude and Turner. 
In the enjoyment of this beautiful scenery, we 
descend the Heath to a hamlet designated North- 
End, and proceed around its western verge to a 
third commanding height, called Telegraph Hill, 
which, as its name implies, isa landmark through 
the country, and again displays to us a new and 
enchanting panorama. Here we arrive at a fur- 
ther portion of the ground desired to be appro- 
priated for building, but which this project would 
secure as a necessary adjunct to the enjoyment of 
the Heath; passing through this land, the road 
would return to the upper terrace. The extent of 
open ground would in all be about 300 acres. 
We have taken it for granted that this remark- 
able suburb is known to our readers; if not, let 
them take the trouble to survey it from the 
heights we have cited, in this pleasant season, 
and we need add no further argument to convince 
every beholder and lover of this metropolis, of the 
vast importance of securing, once for all, this un- 
rivalled pleasure-ground for our overgrowing 
Babylon. Parks we have, it is true; but none to 
compare with what this would be. Nature has 
formed it for the purpose, and art would seek in 
vain to improve it. 
We cannot but regard the project as a 
noble one. It is perfectly evident that 
nothing else can save the most beautiful of 
our suburbs from positive destruction. It is 
therefore with the greatest pleasure, as well 
as from a deep conviction of duty, that we 
raise our voice, however feeble, along with 
that of other portions of the metropolitan 
press, in defence of a proposal so excellent, 
so deserving of universal support. 

ORIGINAL CORRESPONDENCE. 

The Turtle-Dove-——As your paper is so warm 
an advocate for the feathered race, and you evi- 
dently delight in recording the many little traits 
by which they endear themselves to their owners, 
I offer no apology for adding my testimony to 
that of others. I would speak to you about the 
turtle-dove—the genuine turtle-dove, which comes 
to our island in April and leaves in September. 
During a four years’ residence in Essex, a parish- 
ioner of my brother’s had reared one of these 
birds, which in the course of many visits to his 
sick brother, I had often admired as it fearlessly 
sat with the shepherd’s dog and cat. As winter 
advanced, the youth entreated me to accept his 
pet, which he feared would be killed by winter’s 
cold, unless carefully nursed. I accepted the 
pretty gift, and carried it at once to my home, 
where it became speedily attached to me. It 
formed a great friendship, too, with a black cat 
and favorite spaniel, whose food it sought to share 
from the same platter. This bird never forgot an 
affront. A member of the family, whose patience 
was exhausted in seeking unsuccessfully . her 
friendship, waved a red handkerchief at her. 
She was terrified, and though eight years have 
elapsed, the insult is not forgotten. Several 
years passed ere J could overcome her dislike to 
the color. After three years we moved our resi- 
dence, and during the change I went on a visit to 
some friends, with whom I remained three 
months. I then returned, bringing the bird with 
me; it had been unaccountably dull during the 
whole time. It was night when I arrived; and 
as soon as my sister spoke, it became agitated and 
flew about to have its cage opened. It then imme- 
diately took wing to her, with every demonstration 
of affection; and from that time to this, its con- 
stancy has remained unshaken. Vainly have we 
tried to deceive it by night or day. Its hatred to 
me was as great, and it will fly after me, scold 
me, peck me, and annoy me in every way it can. 
On one occasion alone has it shown any kind 
feeling, and that was, during the absence of my 
sister for nine weeks, when she left it under my 
charge. But as'soon as she returned, I was cast 
off. All attempts to divert its affection, by pro- 
viding a suitable mate, have failed; but my sister 
can do anything with it,—pull its head, squeeze 
it, play any trick with it. Caresses, and the 
sweetest “coo,” are the sole return. It follows 
her everywhere ; takes the needle from her 
hand when she is at work; the pen when 
writing; and it will sit on her hand and kiss it, 
whilst she is engaged at the piano. It is remark- 
ably fond of bread, biscuit, butter, and salt ; and 
freely helps itself at breakfast to these articles. 
Then willit return to its place, by or on my sister. 
This bird is now in its thirteenth year. It is in 
the full enjoyment of health, and boasts a very 
fine plumage. This latter, I think, is much 
aided by its enjoyment of a very large bath, in 
which it splashes, rolls, and sits for a quarter of 
an hour together. It is a hen bird, and once it 
deposited an egg at the bottom of the cage. It 
has taken flight from home at intervals; but its 
mistress fears for its safety, and now guards 
against its straying. The old spaniel is still 
alive, but he has lost all his vivacity and pleasure 
in accompanying his master and mistress in their 
equestrian trips. The original cat, too, has given 
place to a very fine specimen of the soft and long- 
haired species, with a tail like a lady’s boa, - 
brought up by a relative’s groom. It is a great 
pet, and friendly with both dog and bird. Its 
usual resting-place at night used to be a silk 
apron, which Tom would search for all over my 
room tillfound. Since I have been absent (now 
many months), Puss has sought and found 
another friend to inake his couch for him.— 
E. F.P., Kingston Lisle, Berks, July 16. 
[We always have very great pleasure in giving 
insertion to ¢rue anecdotes of animals. Their 
winning ways, affectionate endearments, and sin- 
gular attachments, deserve more notice than is 
usually taken of them. The cat above alluded to 
is of the Angora breed. These are noted for their 
affection. We very much regret the many “ fabri- 
cated” anecdotes which at this season find such 
ready entrance into our public journals. They 
are called ‘“‘funny,” and certainly they do elicit a 
laugh ; but they do a vast injury to the study of 
natural history. There are plenty of pleasing 
“facts, without having recourse to witty inven- 
tion.] 
