
62 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

water during stormy or boisterous weather. 
During such seasons, indeed, the haddock conceals 
itself among the sea-weed at considerable depths, 
and it is not then to be taken even with hooks 
baited with its most favorite food ; but it returns 
immediately to its former haunts upon the sub- 
siding of the storm. These habits of the haddock 
sufficiently account for the necessity of keeping it 
in salt-water tanks, in order to supply the demand 
at such seasons, and the consequent high prices 
which are then demanded for it in our markets. 
This fish migrates in larger shoals than any other 
of the finny tribe, with the exception of the 
herring, and whilein season is procured in great 
quantities. It begins to be in roe in the middle 
of November, and so continues until the end of 
January. During this period it approaches our 
coast in immense shoals to deposit its ova, when 
it is caught by our fishermen. It is consequently 
in best season about the commencement of this 
period. From the beginning of February, when 
its spawning is completed, till the end of May, 
this fish is slender in body, and thin-tailed, and is 
not wholesome as food. From the beginning of 
June till the end of September it retreats into 
deep water, where it gradually recovers its 
strength. The haddock ranges in weight from 1 
to 14 pounds, for it has seldom or ever been 
found of more than the latter weight. The haddock 
caught on the Irish coast is said to be the finest 
in flavor, and is highly appreciated by the 
epicure.—LEcTor. 

Minuteness of Matter —Air can be rarified so 
far, that the contents of a cubic foot shall not 
weigh the tenth part of a grain. If a quantity 
that would fill a space of the hundredth part of an 
inch in diameter be separated from the rest, the 
air can still be found there, and we may reason- 
ably conceive that there are several particles 
present, though the weight is less than the 
seventeen-hundredth-million of a grain.—J. T. 
“ Masculine”’ and ‘‘ Feminine.” — The sub- 
joimed, from the ‘Comic English Grammar, is 
smart enough to ask you to register it in Our 
own Journal. There are certain nouns with 
which notions of strength, vigor, and the like 
qualities, are more particularly connected ; and 
these are the neuter substantives which are 
figuratively rendered masculine. On the other 
hand, beauty, amiability, and so forth, are held to 
invest words with a feminine character. Thus 
the sun is said to be masculine, and the moon 
feminine. But for our own part (and our view is 
confirmed by the discoveries of astronomy) we 
believe that the sun is called masculine from his 
supporting and sustaining the moon, and finding 
her the wherewithal to shine away as she does at 
night, when all quiet people are in bed; and from 
his being obliged to keep such a family of stars 
besides. The moon, we think, is accounted 
feminine, because she is thus maintained and 
kept up in her splendor, like a fine lady, by her 
husband, the sun. Furthermore, the moon is 
continually changing, on which account alone she 
might be referred to the feminine gender. The 
earth is feminine, tricked out as she is with gems 
and flowers. Cities and towns are likewise 
feminine because there are as many windings, 


turnings, and with odd corners in them, as there . 
are in the female mind. A ship is feminine, 
inasmuch as she is blown about by every wind. 
Virtue is feminine by courtesy. Fortune and 
misfortune, like mother and daughter, are both 
feminine. The Church is feminine, because she 
is married to the State ; or married to the State, 
because she is feminine—we do not know which. 
Time is masculine, because he is so trifled with 
by the ladies—There are some funny truths 
herein, Mr. Editor; and you know, as well as I 
do, that one must laugh, sometimes!—W ALTER, 
Cambridge. 
[ Walter! you really are —a wag !] 

Instinct of the Swallow.—Five years ago, I 
noticed that a pair of these birds built their nest 
in an out-house attached to my premises, in which 
they reared two broods. I little expected, when 
autumn came, and they winged their flight to sun- 
nier lands, that I should ever see them again ; but 
the following spring they reappeared, repaired their 
old nest, and again produced two broods. The 
same has occurred every succeeding year; and they 
are at the present time in their old domicile. I 
confess that I am not very conversant with the 
branch of natural history to which these cheerful 
and active little twitterers belong ; but it strikes 
me that this is an instance of remarkable instinct, 
if they are the same pair of birds; and which I 
should presume they are, by their coming each 
year to .the same place—F. W., Heath House, 
Hanwell. dene 
[Swallows, Nightingales, and Blackcaps, mvari- 
ably return to their old quarters, year after year. 
They never cease to think of those spots where 
they have dwelt in peace and seclusion. We have 
had oft-repeated opportunities of verifying this 
most pleasing fact. The only danger they run, 1s 
from those indefinably base miscreants, the bird- 
trappers. These inhuman wretches have been 
more than usually busy during the present season. 
They have scarcely left us’ any birds to listen to, 
round London. We must seek them in the coverts, 
and the well-wooded preserves, if we would enjoy 
their harmony, ] 

Love of Flowers.—In all countries, women love 
flowers. In all countries they form nosegays of 
them. But it is only in the bosom of plenty, that 
they conceive the idea of embellishing their dwell- 
ings withthem. The cultivation of flowers among 
the peasantry, indicates a revolution in all their 
feelings. It is a delicate pleasure which makes its 
way through coarse organs. Itis a creature whose 
eyes are opened. It is a sense of the beautiful, a 
faculty of the soul which is awakened. Colors, 
forms, odors, are perceived for the first time ; and 
these charming objects have at last spectators. 
Those who have travelled in the country, can tes- 
tify that a rose tree under the window, or a honey- 
suckle around the door of a cottage, is a good omen 
to a weary traveller. The hand that cultivates 
flowers is not closed against the supplications of 
the poor, nor against the wants of the stranger. 
Flowers may be called the alphabet of angels, 
wherewith they write on hills and plains mysterious 
truths.—Herartsnase, Hants. 
[This remark of yours, pleases us vastly, gentle 
Heartsnase. We quite agree with you,—that 

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