

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
77 

in the conversation. This state of freedom exists, 
to a greater or less degree, till the young girl is 
betrothed. Then it is not considered decorous 
that she should be present whenever her intended 
bridegroom visits the house; neither should she 
hear his name mentioned. 
Even amongst Turks, and more especially in 
the villages and smaller towns of Syria, the young 
Mahomedan sees and converses with the future 
object of his love until she attains her eleventh 
or twelfth year.- She is then excluded from the 
society of men ; but womanhood has already begun 
to develop itself in the person of the girl of ten or 
eleven years old in these climates, where they are 
oftentimes wives and mothers at thirteen. Hence, 
love exists between the young couple before the 
destined bridegroom urges his mother to make the 
requisite proposals of marriage. He loses sight 
of his lady-love as soon as she enters upon woman- 
hood; though he may, by means of a third party, 
catch an occasional glimpse of her features as she 
passes to and fro, strictly guarded by matrons and 
old duennas. Yet, not a single word or one be- 
witching kiss can the despairing lover hope for, 
until she is brought home to his house, his lawful 
consort and partner for life! Then, and not till 
then, commences the great seclusion of the ladies 
of the Turkish harem. However, in country 
places and villages, though the newly-married 
bride may be strictly guarded for a year or two, 
this feeling eventually wears off, and the 
women mix in the every-day occupations of the 
field orin the garden, unveiled and undistinguish- 
able from their Christian neighbors. 
These “occasional glimpses” are barba- 
rities. The author does not tell us whether 
any of the matrons and old duennas are 
poisoned, or otherwise disposed of. We 
imagine, however, that they must myste- 
riously disappear in very large numbers ; nor 
ought the inquiry pursued to be too particu- 
larly rigid—‘‘ under the circumstances.”’ 
So much for the beauty and the festivities 
of Damascus. 

HEADS MAY DIFFER—HEARTS AGREE. 

Tho’ in matters of faith we can’t always agree, 
And kneel at one altar together, 
Yet in friendship and love we united may be, 
Or our faith else is not worth a feather. 
Like the bee, whose philosophy, truthful indeed, 
Invites it each blossom to rifle, 
Let us glean what is noble and good from each 
creed, 
Nor with conscience and honesty trifle. 
How much better and wiser the world might 
become, 
Would partisans cease their contention, 
Would the censor but pause, and the bigot be 
dumb, 
Nor strengthen the weeds of dissension ; 
But love one another, as brothers and men, 
In works of pure charity labor, 
Be true to the faith of their sires, and again 
Respect the same right in their neighbor. 
G. L. B. 





DARK SPOTS ON THE FAIR SUN,— 
CONVENTS, ETC. 


Parents, brothers, sisters! All ye who take 
A lively interest in the happiness 
Of objects to your bosom near and dear, 
(And where is he who has not some fond plant, 
Some lovely flow’r, o’er which his bosom warms,—: 
His tender thoughts expand?) Beware, beware 
The serpent’s oily tongue! The ETERNAL 
WELFARE of immortal souls respect ! 
W. PEACE. 

If EVER MORTAL had reason to rejoice, 
WE have. A few honest remarks from our 
pen, introduced from time to time in con- 
nection with the internal machinery of con- 
vents, have, it would appear, worked wonders. 
They have led to inquiry, and this inquiry 
has ended in satisfactory proof that we 
asserted nothing rashly, 
It would ill become us, as a Public Jour- 
nalist, to shrink from a task of positive though 
painful duty. What we have said has been 
forced from us. We only wish that every 
other Journal had been as fearlessly indepen- 
dent in the utterance of its sentiments. The 
souls and bodies of our fellow-creatures are 
not objects to be trifled with,—their tem- 
poral and eternal happiness are not matters 
to be so lightly esteemed. ‘To immolate one’s 
own child, too! Forbid it, Heaven! 
How often has our heart groaned with 
anguish, to read (blazoned forth in our public 
newspapers,) an announcement of some dis- 
tinguished young lady of fortune being about 
to ‘‘ pass through the fire to Moloch !”—or, to 
speak in the refined language of modern 
times, to ‘‘take the veil!” ‘Tickets, too, to 
see this great insult to the Almighty, have 
been advertised for disposal! Nobody, 
surely, will ask us to recall the remark we 
have so often uttered as to the world being 
mad. Men and women, with hearts and 
souls, to gaze on a sinful offering like this-— 
and with such complacency too! Is it not 
monstrous? Fathers!—blush. Mothers !— 
weep tears of blood. 
What puzzles us so very much is,—that 
people of good education and general com- 
mon sense, should form such a contemptible, 
such an insulting idea of the Supreme Being, 
whose love for His creatures is so infinite. 
They profess to adopt the ‘‘Sacred Volume” 
as their book of faith; and yet act in open 
defiance of every holy, innocent principle it 
enjoins. Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, 
friends! be timely warned, and let no more 
such hideous sacrifices call down the ven- 
geance of Heaven. Cherish your own flesh 
and blood. Do not destroy them here and 
hereafter. 
This earth was made for our use and 
happiness, and for the Creator’s glory. 
Everything is lawful, lawfully used; and all 
that is required from us in return is a tribute 
of gratitude, adoration, and praise. On this 
a a a a a a neg 
