

232 
KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

OUR MIRROR OF THE MONTHS. 
NOVEMBER. 

Now Autumn’s fairy gold turns pale, 
Twilight, too, closes fast and chill ; 
And dirge-like winds, with lengthening wail, 
Moan low, or rise with whistle shrill. 

[T IS HARDLY CORRECT, we imagine, for 
us to use the word “ Mirror,” in connection 
with the month of November. A month of 
darkness is it, and fog, and the less we reflect 
it the better. Few can pretend to see 
through it, and those few, of course, live in 
it as their “element.’’ We speak this to 
the inhabitants of London—also of course. 
A London fog is peculiar—perfectly sui 
generis. It is so thick that some say it may 
be eaten; others, however, conscientiously 
affirm that, if eaten, it cannot be declared 
wholesome or easy of digestion (one mouthful 
makes us ‘‘shut up” for a week). It usually 
comes in with the new and tinselly Lord 
Mayor, on the 9th of November, and remains 
in constant attendance on that enlightened 
civic and jesting functionary, and the gorging 
sycophants who form his posse comitatus, | 
until long after Christmas. 
The advent of November is the signal for 
grand preparations in the way of gourmandise. 
No sooner do the days become short, and 
the weather gloomy, than London and its | 
inhabitants set about the “whole art of 
enjoyment.” This, consists in eating, drink- 
ing, feasting, visiting; and at night, in scenes 
of dissipation, frivolity, and idle amusement. 
For these things London is famous. The 
Great Metropolis is, as we have often charac- 
terised it, a city of mirth, gaiety, hypocrisy, 
deception, and folly. Selfishness and fashion, | 
exclusiveness and contempt, envy, hatred, 
malice, and all uncharitableness, hold their | 
court here. Hence the fearful records of 
crime, suicide, and every moral evil, that 
overcrowd the daily and weekly broadsheets 
of this “ City of the Plague.”’ 
Fortunately, however, we do not live in 
the “doomed city.” Passing through it is | 
quite sufficient for us. We flee from it as 
we would from a pestilence, and always 
return to it with a heavy heart. The human 
countenances that pass in review before us, 
(most of them marked with the plague-spot,) | 
as we thread the public highways—tell us at 
this season a tale that needs no illustration. 
Karly and late does care bestride their brow. 
They seem impelled to their own destruction. 
.Then—the gaudy butterflies that flutter | 
along the streets, the allurements, the temp- | 
tations, the noises, the nuisances, the giddy | 
whirl, the naked emptiness of half the heads 
one sees—all form one grand hubbub, one 
bewildering scene of insane folly, that makes 
a body tremble for the actors. But let us 
away to a healthier atmosphere. 

The year is in its decline. Since we last 
chatted with our good friends, rain has fallen 
in torrents. Sun, wind, rain, frost—all have 
united to change the charming landscape 
upon which we have so long and so happily 
gazed. 
NovEMBER comes; and at his call 
The genius of the storm awakes; 
Flow’rs fade, and leaves deciduous fall. 
The vision flies. The enchantment breaks, 
And vanishes away. 
But what of this? It is only one of those 
changes which are perpetually going forward 
in the drama of life. There is just as much 
to admire out-of-doors now, as ever there 
was. It wants but the heart and the feeling 
to enjoy it. Whilst our pen is moving over 
the paper— 
The common, overgrown with fern, and rough 
With prickly gorse,—that shapeless and deform’d 
And dang’rous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
And decks itself with ornaments of gold,— 
Yields no unpleasing ramble. There the turf 
Smells fresh; and, rich in odorif’rous herbs ~ 
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense 
With luxury of unexpected sweets. 
Only go forth determined to be happy, 
and happiness is yours! 
The fall of the leaf began this year very 
early; owing to the heavy rains and wind 
alternating with sun by day and frost by 
night. Our lanes, highways, and gardens 
were strewed with leaves several weeks since ; 
and each day is now adding largely to their 
number. And how truly delightful is it to 
wander abroad, during intervals of sunshine, 
and watch Nature thus gently disrobing! 
Every garment she lays aside only adds to 
her beauty. Every new charm disclosed to 
the eye renders her still more bewitchingly 
attractive. 
And what an endless variety of colors does 
her leafy apparel exhibit! Light and shade 
alternate so sweetly, that we prefer her en 
déshabille to her full regal attire. Hers isa 
wardrobe never out of fashion. It cannot 
but fascinate us, for it is purely simple and 
“natural.”” And then, to listen tothe gentle 
gales doing her homage—singing and dancing 
among the branches, whilst she is toying 
with the ornaments for which she finds no 
further use ! 
Oh, that we could infuse into all our 
readers’ hearts some little of the esprit which 
animates us, whilst wandering among these 
beauties of Nature, at which we so faintly 
hint! We know many who do fully appre- 
ciate these joys, and with whom to stroll at 
this season, amidst such scenes, would 
indeed be Heaven upon earth. We feel the 
sympathetic affection whilst we write. They 
will feel it too, when they read. Thought 
flies infinitely quicker than the most subtle 



