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KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

pleased of the two. To me it was a double 
feast. Much did I enjoy the blackberries ; 
but still more, the man’s affection for his 
wife. 
At a time when the brutality and violence 
of drunken husbands towards their wives 
is so much on the increase (justly calling 
forth public indignation), it is pleasant to 
meet with acase of a different kind. It was 
on the stile, on the height above the vale of 
Ecclesbourne, that the poor fisherman rested 
his basket, while I revelled on the banquet 
it provided for me. Iam not likely to forget 
the place, the fisherman, the basket, or the 
blackberries. 
This unpretending, gentle deed, on the 
part of the poor fisherman, was an occur- 
rence that just suited me. While the Sir 
Walter Raleighs of the world gallantly 
“spread their costly mantles in the mire, that 
royal feet may not be incommoded; and 
while such courtier-like actions are handed 
down to the admiration of posterity, be 7 
mune to record the less questionable kindnesses 
of common life, that occur in the sphere of my 
own observation. And forgive me, ye ad- 
mirers of Sir Walter, if I rank the affection 
of a poor fisherman for his poor wife a 
little higher than I do the questionable 
attentions of a courtier to his queen. 
‘“‘ Husbands, love your wives,” and “Wives, 
submit yourselves unto your own husbands,” 
are injunctions of Holy Writ which are sadly 
neglected; and I am afraid that, were I to 
undertake a walk of twenty thousand miles, 
I should not fall in with a man blackberrying 
for his wife, and gathering two sprays of the 
finest fruit, on account of her being uncommonly 
Fond of them. 
Hastings! with thy parades and pleasant 
pathways, I owe thee much; for beneath His 
indulgent care who has spread out the waters 
with His hand, spangled the sky with stars, 
and studded the bramble with blackberries, 
thy breezes have given me health, thy hills 
and dales added to my enjoyment, and thy 
Sabbath heralds of mercy ministered largely 
to my peace. A blessing from above light 
on thy inhabitants, thy mariners, and the 
strangers sojourning within thy gates, from 
St. Leonard’s to Eeclesbourne; from the 
windmills to the sea; and from thé Baron of 
the Cinque-Ports to the household of the 
poor fisherman with his BASKET OF BLACK- 
BERRIES !”’ 
We know not wHo wrote the above—we 
wish we did. A rara avis such as he, it 
would do our old heart good to fall in with. 
He is a bold man indeed, to utter such senti- 
ments publicly ! 
We bid him God-speed. 
Hearts are to be won—not forced. Reason and 
affection are the golden links of humanity. 

HOWQUA’S TEA AND HOWQUA’S MIXTURE. 

WHO AMONGST US IS IGNORANT of the 
packages of tea, knownas “ Howqua’s MIx- 
TURE?” Who among us have partaken of 
the same, without feeling invigorated and 
greatly refreshedthereby? Let us then, from 
asense of gratitude, take a peep into How- 
qua’s garden. It will be topic for fire-side 
gossip throughout the coming winter. 
Weall know Mr. Fortune. He and Cutna 
are usually named together. He is now, or 
was when he penned the following (which 
we borrow from a contemporary), at the 
temple of Tein-tung, near Ningpo :— 
“ As many of your readers have, no doubt, 
heard of ‘‘ Howqua’s Mixture,” f shall begin 
by attempting to describe Howqua’s GaAR- 
DEN. 
This garden is situated near the well- 
known Fa-tee nurseries, a few miles above 
the city of Canton. It is a place of favorite 
resort both for Chinese and foreigners who 
reside in the neighborhood, or who visit 
this part of the Celestial Empire. Having 
occasion to be in Canton a few weeks ago, I 
determined on paying it a visit in company 
with Mr. M‘Donald, who is well-known in 
this part of the world as an excellent Chinese 
scholar. To this gentleman I am indebted 
for some translations of Chinese notices, 
which appeared very amusing to us at the 
time, and which, I dare say, will amuse your 
readers. 
Having reached the door of the garden, we 
presented the card with which we were pro- 
vided, and were immediately admitted. ‘The 
view from the entrance is rather pleasing, and 
particularly striking to a stranger who sees 
it for the first time. Looking “right 
a-head,” as sailors say, there is a long and 
narrow paved walk, lined on each side with 
plants in pots. This view is broken, and 
apparently lengthened by means of an octa- 
gon arch which is thrown across ; and beyond 
that, a kind of alcove covers the pathway. 
Running parallel with the walk, and on each 
side behind the plants, are low walls of or- 
namented brickwork, latticed so that the 
ponds or small lakes, which are on each side, 
can be seen. Altogether, the octagon arch, 
the alcove, the pretty ornamental flower- 
pots, and the water on each side, have a strik- 
ing effect, and it is thoroughly Chinese. 
The plants consist of good specimens of 
southern Chinese things, all well-known in 
England ; such for example, as Cymbidium 
sinense, Olea fragrans, Oranges, Roses, 
Camellias, Magnolias, &c., and of course, a 
multitude of dwarf trees, without which no 
Chinese garden would be considered com- 
plete. In the alcove alluded to there are 
some nice stone seats, which look cool in a 
climate like that of Southern China. The 







