172 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
will be a dreary one. It is now the season 
for walking, rambling, nutting, gipsying, 
frolicking, and universal enjoyment. All now 
must be al fresco. Fires are, as yet, in the 
remote distance. Court Nature in the fields 
and the forests ; and there you will be both 
happy and well. 
The ‘fall of the leaf” is a season which, 
for us, has charms unutterable. We wander 
abroad with an ecstacy of feeling, of which 
we can give no idea. ‘The gradual decay of 
nature is a sight we revel in. We listen to 
the sighs in the trees, we note the murmur 
of the breeze dancing among theleaves.. We 
watch the flittmg clouds, with a child-like 
fondness; and we dream pleasingly as we 
behold therapidly-fiying panorama of nature’s 
painting. At this season, the sun and the 
clouds cause a change of landscape every 
two or three minutes. 
Autumn is the time when, if ever, we 
mortals are given to thought. There is a 
_ beauty peculiar to the season that steals 
upon the mind. It invests it with a tender- 
ness and a permanency of impression which 
had not otherwise belonged to it. Our 
autumnal evenings are, in their grey and 
sober tinting, beautiful. In the many- 
~ colored hues of the trembling foliage, in the 
fitful sighing of the breeze, in the mournful 
call of the wounded partridge or ill-starred 
pheasant, in the soft low piping of our friend 
the robin; and, above all, in the sweetly 
plaintive warbling of the young thrush, the 
blackbird, and the wood-lark—in all these 
there is a union of sight and sound, which 
can scarcely fail to touch the heart with a 
corresponding sense of pensive pleasure. To 
enjoy this we should, whilst contemplating 
the passing scene, behold the setting sun 
(hitherto shrouded in the gathering gloom) 
gleam a farewell lustre on the fields. It is 
then, perhaps, that our emotions harmonise 
most completely with external nature. 
We must now reluctantly take our leave. 
Ere we again meet our readers, the month of 
November will have come in—ragged in its 
garb, and comparatively Hamel But Octo- 
ber, of which a whole month remains to be 
enjoyed, will have gone out with a pageant 
and a feast. 
The woods will have been hung with 
tapestry of all-glorious colors. The dark 
and glossy acorns will have been scattered 
in profusion on the ground. The richly- 
tinted and veined horse-chestnuts will have 
glowed in the midst of their rugged and spiny 
shells, which burst open in their fall; and 
‘birds will have been enjoying a plentiful 
feast of beech-nuts in the tree-tops. 
All this yet awaits us; besides lots of 
rambles by sea and land. And then there is 
“nutting” in the leafy woods, accompanied 
by the girl of our heart; ‘‘ blackberry-ing” in 

the same sweet company; and there are 
certam little autumnal visits to pay—all 
most truly delightful. May we, one and all, 
be able to enjoy the bright prospect, and— 
While Autumn strews on every plant > 
His mellow fruits and fertile grain; 
And laughing Plenty, crowned with sheaves, 
With purple grapes, and spreading leaves, 
In rich profusion pours around, 
Her flowing treasures on the ground,— 
Wr'tt mark the great, the liberal hand, 
That scatters blessings o’er the land, 
And to the God of Nature raise 
THE GRATEFUL song—rHE Hymn oF PRAISE. 
May we all be in fine voice—and may the 
echo extend to the ends of the earth! 

PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF A DOG—WNo. I. 
BY ONE OF THAT SUFFERING RACE. 
(Continued from Page 110.) 

IT AM GLAD TO HEAR, my dear Mr. Editor, 
from a multitude of quarters, that [ “ barked” 
in my last to some good purpose. I agree 
with you that Truth will ever carry all before 
it. 
Some persons tell me, that I was too free 
in speaking my mind. Do you think so? 
[Quite the contrary, “ Charlie.”” When we 
want to cure a wound, we must cut deep. 
Then shall we succeed bravely. Go on, by 
all means.] I confess I have had my cogi- 
tations about it. However, your favorite, 
Shakspeare, has decided the point. Turning 
over a page or iwo in his charming book, 
yesterday, I read as follows :-— 
To be—or not to be? That is the question, 
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer 
The stings and arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or—to take arms against a sea of troubles, 
And, by opposing, END them ? 
Find them, of course! barked I, with all 
the enthusiasm of an ill-used dog; and when 
I die, I shall stand enrolled in history as a 
canine benefactor tomy race. Thus much 
prefatory—now to my narrative. 
Let me see. In my last I told you all 
about the cage in which we were confined. 
In this cage we lived for about three months. 
Hosts of people came to see us, and we were 
much admired. But, mathewreusement, not 
being “ fashionable dogs’’ we were not soon 
disposed of. One day, however, a lady (the 
wife of one of London’s merchant princes) 
came into the shop to buy a dog, and the lot 
fell on me. The lady pronounced me to be 
affectionate and intelligent. My eyes, I at 
once saw, had won her favor. Beautiful they 
were, of course, and expressive; for I was a 
“true breed ” from the fountain-head. 
Whilst wondering ‘‘what next?” and 
scanning my new mistress’s countenance, I 
heard the money rattle in her hand. I was 


