60 
KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 

buses, and to be kept lighted by the conductors. 
Tables of fares to be put up inside and outside 
hackney carriages, and the driver must produce 
a book of fares when required. He is to be com- 
pellable to drive six miles from the place of hiring. 
A reasonable quantity of luggage without any addi- 
tional charge must be carried. The Commissioners 
of Police are to appoint persons to enforce good 
order at hackney carriagestands. Printed bills, &c., 
are not to be put on the outside or inside of hackney 
carriages, so as to obstruct the light or ventilation, 
or cause annoyance to any passengers therein, All 
advertising vehicles are prohibited. Drivers of 
hackney carriages are liable to penalties for offences 
under this act, andthe magistrates or justices of 
the peace are empowered to hear and determine 
offences; and in case of disputes, the hirer may 
require the driver to drive to the nearest police 
court or police station—W. T. 
Love and Jealousy.—I have just had a little 
confab, Mr. Editor, with a fair disputant, who 
argues that there is no love without jealousy. Just 
give us your thoughts upon that little pomt—will 
you? and oblige—A Srrxer arrer Truru. 
[Your handwriting plainly tells us that you are 
of the masculine gender ; and as you are evidently 
“young,”’ we will explain. A person who loves 
truly (and mind, sir, that you form a just estimate 
of what “love” is,) is naturally and properly 
“jealous” over that which is dearer to him (or to 
her) than aught else in the world. He watches 
over it with a protecting eye. It would be sad, 
were it otherwise. Where the treasure is, there 
will the heart be. Two people properly united, 
cannot be im-properly jealous of each other. They 
have so pure an opinion the one of the other—such 
an unceasing, unlimited, generous, ennobling con- 
fidence exists between them, that the “‘green-eyed 
monster” cannot by possibility find a place in their 
dwelling. 
*¢ Goodness thinks no ill, where no ill seems,”’ 
says Milton. For the converse of this proposition, 
see an elaborate answer we gave to a very worthy 
but hen-pecked husband, at page 379, Vol. II. 
of our JournaL. Jealousy can only exist in a 
depraved heart. An honest heart never would 
believe anything spoken to the disparagement of 
its “second-self.” It would beard the tale-bearer to 
his teeth, and make the party (male or female) slink 
away like a convicted felon. Love and jealousy, 
therefore, should never be named together. If 
anxiety and tenderness were substituted for the 
word “jealousy,” tell our fair debater (who we 
apprehend, good sir, is about to throw a silken 
string over your neck), we imagine the question 
will be satisfactorily set at rest. But when jealousy 
partakes of suspicion (they are too often twins,— 
see page 22 of this present JournaL)—it becomes 
farcical to use the word “love” at all. Let us 
know, if this solution be deemed “ satisfactory.”’] 

Faith and Friendship.—t think, my Dear Sir, 
you will agree with me (for you appear to have 
fathomed humanity to its very base), that Faith 
and Friendshipsare:’seldom truly tried but in ex- 
tremes. To find friends when we have no need of 
them, and to want them when we have, are both 
alike easy and common. In prosperity, who will 
not profess to love a man? In adversity, how few 
will show that they do it! When we are happy 
in the spring-tide of abundance, and the rising 
flood of plenty, then the world will be our servants, 
Then do all men flock about us, with bared heads, 
bended bodies, and protesting tongues. But when 
these pleasing waters fall to ebbing,—when wealth 
but shifteth to another strand—then men look upon 
us.at a distance, and stiffen themselves, as if they 
were in armour. They try to make us keep aloof, 
by giving us a look that would freeze the blood of 
a Goliath. A good man in trouble is an eyesore 
to the world. In prosperity he is courted,—in 
adversity he is shunned. Misfortune is a crime. 
In a word, adversity is like Penelope’s night, which 
“undoes all that ever the day did weave.” —OnrE 
OF THE OxLp ScHooL. 
[You are indeed a man of observation! We 
cannot differ from you. You talk ‘like a 
book.’’] 

The “ Wisest of Trees,’—The Mulberry Tree. 
—The mulberry tree is universally known not to 
put forth its buds and leaves, till the season is so far 
advanced that, in the ordinary course of events, 
there is no inclement weather to be apprehended. 
It has, therefore, been called the “ wisest of trees;”’ 
and in Heraldry it is adopted as a hieroglyphic of 
wisdom, whose property is to speak and to do all 
things in opportune season.— Hrartsnase, Hants. 

A Curious Case of Voluntary Suspended Ani- 
mation.—Dr. Cheyne, in one of his medical 
treatises, relates a case of voluntary suspension 
of animation, the accuracy of which is estab- 
lished by an irrefragable combination of evi- 
dence, of a man who could die, to all appearance, 
at any time that he chose ; and after having laina 
considerable period exactly as a corpse, was able, 
as it should seem, by a voluntary struggle, to re- 
store to himself the appearance, and all the 
various functions of animation and intellect. It 
is to be inferred, from the latter part of the story, 
that the unnatural and painful exertion by which 
this person assumed the semblance of disease, pro- 
duced at Jength a really fatal result. Death 
would be no longer mocked with impunity. The 
counterfeit corpse, a few hours after its revival, 
relapsed into a state which was capable of no 
subsequent resuscitation. The case is so interest- 
ing and remarkable, as to deserve your giving it 
in all the details with which Dr. Cheyne presents 
it to his readers :—‘‘ The man could die or expire 
when he pleased; and yet by an effort, or some- 
how, he could come to life again. He insisted so 
much on our seeing the trial made, that we were at 
last forced to comply. We all three felt his pulse 
first; it was distinct, though small and thready ; 
and his heart had its usual beating. He com- 
posed himself on his back, and lay in a still pos- 
ture for some time. While I held his right hand, 
Dr. Barnard laid his hand on his heart, and Mr. 
Skrine held a clear looking-glass to his mouth. 
I found his pulse sink gradually, till at last I 
could not feel any by the most exact and nice 
touch. Dr. Barnard could not feel the least 
motion in his heart; nor could Mr. Skrine per- 
ceive the least sort of breath on the bright mirror 
he held to'his mouth. Then each of us by 
turns examined his arm, heart, breath; but 

