KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

. CONVENT—IONAL GOSSIP. 
IF “ HONEST,’—WHY SUCH DREAD? 
Ye reverend Fathers, ‘‘ why” make such objec- 
tion 
Why” Taise such a cry against Convents’ In- 
spection ? 
Is it not just the thing to confound the deceivers, 
And confute all the slanders of vile unbelievers ? 
Tt strikes me that people in your situation 
Should welcome, invite, and court investigation— 
As much as to say, “Come and see, if you 
doubt us ; 
We defy you to find any Evi about us.” 
For my part, I think, if I held your persuasion, 
I much should desire to improve the occasion ; 
And should catch at the chance, opportunely 
afforded, 
Of showing how well Nuns are lodged, used, and 
boarded. 
That as to the notion of cruel inflictions 
Of penance—such tales are a bundle of fictions ; 
And that all that we hear of constraint and 
coercion 
Is, to speak in mild language, mere groundless 
assertion. 
That an Abbess would not—any more than a 
Mayoress— 
Ever dream of inveigling an opulent heiress ; 
That each convent’s the home of devotion and 
urity, 
And iad, nothin is thought about, there, but 
futurity. 
That no Nuns exist their profession regretting, 
Who kept in confinement are pining and fretting ; 
And to fancy there might be one such, though a 
rarity, 
Implies a most sad destitution of charity. 
That all sisters are doves—without mates—of 
one feather, 
In holy tranquillity living together ; 
Whose dovecote the bigots have found a mare’s 
nest in, 
Because its arrangements are rather clandestine. 
Nay; J should have gone, out of hand, to Sm 
Paxton. 
Asa Frenchman would probably call him, and 
“axed ’un,”’ 
As countrymen say—his ingenious noddle 
Of a New Crystal Convent to scratch for a model. 
Transparent and open, inquiry not shirking, 
Like bees you might watch the good Nuns in it, 
working ; 
And study their habits, observe all their motions, 
And see them performing their various “ devo- 
tions.” 
This is what Z should do—on a sound cause 
relying ; 
Not run about bellowing, raving, and crying ; 
F shouldn’t exhibit all that discomposure, 
Unless in the dread of some startling disclosure. 

——~ 

“What ’’ makes you betray such tremendous 
anxiety 
To prevent the least peep into those haunts of 
piety ? 
People say there’s “a bag” in your Convents;— 
NO DOUBT OF TT, 
And you are afraid you'll have “Pussy” let out 
of it!!! 
Puncu- 
MOUNT VESUVIUS. 
BY AN EYE-WITNESS. 

WE WERE NOW ABOUT TO SEE Nature in 
anew and awful form, by witnessing the be- 
ginning of an eruption at Vesuvius. Before 
quitting Naples, we heard reports that an 
approaching tumult in the mountain was 
anticipated. Volleys of smoke ascended, 
from time to time, from the crater, or lay 
curled in clouds on the summit. ‘The wells 
at Naples were becoming dry, while those at 
Resina were overflowing ; loud noises, too, 
were heard on the mountain, and it was 
rumored that fire had been seen by night. 
Upon reaching the house of Salvator at 
Resina, the principal Vesuvius guide, he told 
us that the mountain was in action; that a 
new crater had been opened the night before, 
and was sending forth flames and stones. We 
speedily mounted our donkeys—poor miser- 
able little creatures, which had already been 
up the mountain twice during the preceding 
twenty-four hours—and started, full of ex- 
pectation. For some time our path lay 
between walls built of blocks of lava, strewn 
with volcanic stones. In about three-quarters 
of an hour we reached a wide current of 
lava, that of 1810; it was like a frozen Styx. 
The scene was one of wild desolation ; not a 
trace of vegetation was seen. Black, dark, 
and barren was the surface of the earth; in 
some places the lava, arrested in its course, 
resembled petrified waves, whilst in others, 
it formed a hard compact surface ; our guide 
pointed out to us the streams of lava of 1819, 
1822, and 1833. 
On a hill formed of volcanic products, 
raised like a ridge high above the currents 
of lava that have swept past it on either side, 
stands the hermitage. One solitary friar had 
pitched his tent in this wilderness, and had 
lived here nearly twenty years; never quit- 
ting the spot, even during the most awful 
eruptions of the mountain. Here we halted 
for twenty minutes, to rest our poor little 
steeds. The lava, which we had before 
crossed in comparatively regular streams, 
was now piled about in huge blocks, amongst 
which we picked our way with difficulty. 
We soon arrived at the foot of the cone; 
and here we were obliged to leave our don- 
keys, and commit ourselves to the mercy of 
twelve portantini, or bearers. The soil is so 


