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KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

TRUE HAPPINESS. 
BY HELEN HETHERINGTON. 

Giver Mr the home where the sun’s gentle beams 
Peep through my lattice, when springtide is 
nigh ; 
Or, with the summer, reflect on the streams 
A glimpse of its bright happy home in the sky. 
I sigh not for Power, nor languish for Wealth, 
I covet not Greatness, whate’er its degree ; 
The blessing of peace, with the gay bloom of health, 
And the smile of contentment are dearer to me. 
My jewels I'll seek where the vi'let and rose, 
Halfhid in their moss bed, waft fragrance 
around ; 
Where bright crystal dew-drops on lilies repose, 
And gay star-like daisies bespangle the ground. 
The music that cheers and enlivens the vale 
Shall chase away sorrow and care from my 
breast ; 
My heart shall respond to the dove’s plaintive tale, 
And the voice of the nightingale lull me to rest. 
With kind friends to love me, and hope to beguile 
The dark days of life, which we cannot control, 
Oh! let my reward be affection’s bright smile— 
For Love sweetens labor, and Joy cheers the soul. 


A WORD ABOUT GOOD TASTE. 
A WHISPER TO THE FAIR SEX. 

The sure way to “settle” a crocodile, according to 
ancient practice, was to confront him with a mirror,— 
when he incontinently DIED OF FRIGHT AT HIS OWN 
DEFORMITY. FRASER. 

WE HAVE NG WISH TO COMPARE all that 
our heart holds dear to a crocodile. No! 
But we would fain compare the modern 
attize worn by all whom our heart holds dear, 
to that hideous animal. Qh, if we could but 
get the wearers to reflect ; and to gaze more- 
over on their reflection, as seen in a mirror— 
would not our joy be complete! One glance 
would suffice. A second would not be politic; 
for we verily believe that the fair beholder of 
her deformed person would, by taking “a 
second sight,” incontinently die of fright. 
This is a humane view of the innate (though 
as yet undeveloped) good taste of the sex 
called gentle. 
We are not to-day going over the ground 
we have so often before trodden. Our ex- 
pressed sentiments about “ natural habits ” 
are too well known to render this necessary. 
Nor are we again about to inveigh against 
those Satanic inventions—modern fashionable 
bonnets. They suit the wearers; and if they 
do not blush, thus arrayed, why should we? 
Modesty has fled the land. Our present object 
is—to enter a very strong protest against the 
prevailing fashion in ladies’ hair. Arranged 
as it now is by one universal, abhorrent law, 
“taste” is out of the question. The severity 

of “ Fashion’s” dictates in this matter, ought 
to be stoutly resisted by every pretty face. 
It is an outrage on nature, an insult to the 
human face divine. Beauty should be re- 
spected—not annihilated. * 
When we were a boy, things were widely 
different. A charming face used to be 
‘naturally ’’ set off by free, flowing rows of 
clustering curls, which hung so lovingly down 
an innocent cheek (cheeks, alas ! now-a-days, 
are not ‘‘innocent”)—that they held us 
pleasingly spell-bound. Oh! those enchant- 
ing ringlets, and the fascinating endearments 
of their pretty, modest owners ! 
The human figure, too, was then respected. 
Our hearts were fairly captivated by the true 
‘line of beauty.” Women seemed to be 
aware, in those happy days, that they were 
gifted with lovely forms ; and they delighted 
in letting us see them in their pure, innocent 
development. We could get near them then; 
converse with them; make much of them; 
enjoy their society; read to them; reason 
with them; play with them—in a word, we 
could LOVE them. 
But the times have changed, and our 
women have changed with them. Nature 
has succumbed to Art, and the penalty has 
fallen heavily on those who would love the 
gentle sex, but cannot. What we want is, 
during this age of “striking,” to see our 
women “strike.” A bold resistance on their 
part, and a vow to stand out to the last 
against the inhuman caprices of Fashion, 
must be followed by a beneficial result. Our 
* Since this was in type, our eye has fallen 
upon the following very sensible remarks, which 
appear in our ever-watchful contemporary, the 
Sheffield Free-Press. “‘ It is notorious that fashion 
does not aim at beauty, but at uniformity (and de- 
formity). And herein we must unceremoniously 
attack our aristocratical or courtly classes, who 
fancy that whatever they may lack in solid culture, 
they more than compensate by refinement and 
elegance! There can be no true elegance where 
fashion rules. Why? Obviously, because diffe- 
rent human forms are cast in different types; and 
to attain their full native comeliness, each needs 
a different and appropriate dress. Take the simple 
case of hair. One has curly locks, which natu- 
rally cling in their own places, and perhaps will 
not grow long. Another has straight hair; which, 
when allowed to grow long, has a natural broad 
wave, but which, if cut short, is rigid and ugly. 
Fassion commands to trim each of these heads 
into one form, and then does not know that it is 
sacrificing comeliness!! With as much reason 
might old and young dress alike, as two persons 
who, though of the same age, are of different 
physical type.” 
Our contemporary is quite right. Society abounds 
in specimens of this uniform deformity ; nor do 
foreigners fail to comment on our national weak- 
ness. We now rival Paris ; and even exceed that 
dissipated city in folly !—Ep. K. J. 

