192 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
meaning; and will ascertain whether a caressing 
hand and a soothing voice do not forthwith 
evoke corresponding demonstrations, just as 
sincere as those of the most petted spaniel, or the 
most favored terrier. Letno one deem vt unmanly 
to be fond of a cat. ‘Two of the manliest men the 
world ever saw—we have mentioned their names 
—loved their feline dependants; and of one of 
these this curious anecdote is recorded .—Dr. 
Johnson, sitting in. Bolt Court, by the fireside, 
with Bozzy on the one hand, Mrs. Williams on 
the other, and ‘ Hodge’ the cat, for which he used 
to bring home oysters in his pocket, probably 
ensconced upon the rug. The great old pundit, 
after hearing his pet somewhat depreciated, did 
agree that he had seen cleverer cats than ‘ Hodge,’ 
but suddenly correcting himself, as if (notes 
Bozzy) he experienced a kind of instinctive idea 
that the dumb creature at his feet had a notion 
of the depreciatory nature of his sentence, he 
made haste to relieve poor Pussy’s feelings by 
adding, ‘ But Hodge is a fine cat, Sir—a very fine 
cat, indeed.’ ”’—Having thus done ample justice to 
the race of Tabbies, we have henceforth no dread 
of dying from—Cat-alepsy !] 

A Private Consultation—I am most anxious, 
my dear Sir, to make a present of a really pretty 
song, to “one” in whom I feel greatly “interested.” 
In this matter, to whom could I apply so well as to 
Our own Epiror? I know his taste well enough 
to rely implicitly on his judgment and impartiality. 
—Franx H. 
[Well said, Frank. We know your tack. We 
have sailed on the same gentle waters ourself, ere 
now. ‘Take, on our cordial recommendation, to the 
girl of your heart, the new song called ‘‘ Sailing on 
the Summer Sea.” It is, we believe, published in 
New Burlington Street; but every Music Seller 
has it. It is sweetly pretty, and it cannot fail to 
win for you the ineffable smiles of her whom you so 
much delight to honor. When she has played it 
over some half-dozen times, you will assuredly hear 
her warbling it ‘from morn till dewy eve.”’] 
Delicacy refined in a Crucible, and passed 
through a Hair Sieve—The matchless com- 
mentary of “ Walter” on the pseudo-delicacy of 
the American natives (see p. 124) can never be 
over-rated, It is thus that all our exuberances, 
as a nation, should be lopped off. Ridicule is a 
fine weapon, provided it be well wielded. Let 
me now tell you of something hardly inferior in 
point of zest to the American ladies’ horror of 
seeing the Greek Slave, Venus, Eve, Cupid, &c., 
out of drapery. Not long since, a lady moving in 
good society, went to call upon a friend of mine, 
to whom she had a letter of introduction on behalf 
of anephew. She was shown into the drawing- 
room. A few moments only elapsed before the 
major-domo entered. He then found his lady 
visitor in a state of fainting. She was seated on 
a chair immediately opposite the door. For some 
minutes she was speechless; but cold water and 
other restoratives being applied, she recovered. I 
will not encroach on your space, by going into 
details as to the cause of that fainting fit; but 
my lady had seen on a side table (under a glass 
shade) a marble group of ‘‘The Graces,” attired 
in Nature’s simple dress. This bad given her 

chastity such a shock, that she positively refused 
to explain the object of her application wntil the 
Figures had a cloth thrown over them. “ To be 
in a room with a gentleman—and that group ex- 
posed to the sight of both, was,” she remarked, 
‘“‘an act of the grossest indelicacy. She would 
never sanction it.’’ This is rich,—is it not? Sly 
people, demure people, mealy-mouthed people, 
and your people of “high virtue,” are the very 
worst of hypocrites. The moment a man begins 
to talk to me of his honesty, I button up every 
pocket I have ; and immediately place some article 
of furniture between us, to keep us separate.— 
Anrcuer, Dublin. 

[Your remarks, sir, are really called for. There 
is far too much of this prudery, and this morbid 
mock-modesty abroad. By-and-by all our little 
children will be washed in a suit of opaque oil-silk ; 
and we shall have the windows closed to prevent 
the sun beholding us rise from the bed of sleep. 
Gloves, too, will perhaps be worn at meal times ; 
and as the human face in man is about to be given 
up to “‘ free trade in hair” (the face of woman is 
so already), ‘‘naked facts” will soon be words un- 
known amongst us. Oh! woman, woman! For- 
merly, thou wert the very idol of our heart,—femi- 
nine, as thou oughtest to be. But now,—Hhew! 
quam dispar tibi! Puncu has well said, that by 
looking at all the clothes thou hast ever worn, he 
could write ‘a correct history of thy life! ””] 

Tenacity of Life in a Dorking Hen.—Some 
short time since, my dear sir, a cat (which 
appeared to us to be of Persian origin) strayed on 
our grounds. We succeeded in catching it; and 
intending to return it to its owner, if discoverable, 
we placed it, for safety, in a large wooden enclo- 
sure (a kind of hutch) until the following morning. 
We then found it sitting on the top (or-rather 
the side), of an old beehive, which was in the 
hutch; and whilst removing it, we turned the 
beehive round, with its open part against the 
wall. This last formed the back of the hutch. Of 
course the beehive occupied no more of our 
thoughts ; but on taking it up, a fortnight subse- 
quently, what, think you, was our horror to find 
in it (alive) a Dorking hen! The poor animal 
must have been just beginning to “sit,” when we 
first so innocently imprisoned her. How she 
existed so long we know not,—neither can we say 
how many eggs were originally in the hiye. Her 
feet were stained with the yolk of egg, and she 
was sadly emaciated. You may imagine how ten- 
derly we nursed her afterwards; and our anxiety 
to restore her to health. She was truly sensible 
of this ; and I rejoice to tell you she is perfectly 
recovered. How I loved that hen ever after, 
I need not tell you—Heartsrase, Hants. 
[No indeed, Hearrsrase, There need no 
words to*express the feelings of a heart tender as 
thine.] 

The Soap Plant.—The Vienna journals announce 
that a firm of California has sent home to that city 
some seeds of the soap plant. It grows wild in 
California, rising to the height of about a foot. 
The plant fades away in the month of May, and 
inside each is a ball of natural soap, superior, it is 
asserted, to any that can be manufactured.—D.H. 

