
314 KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
cessions, are passed away—theirs was but a 
transient possession—but your owl shall be mitred 
abbot there to the end of time. The architect 
might unfold his sublimest plans, and the sculptor 
perpetuate in florid decorations of stone his most 
exuberant fancies, and bags of golden angels 
might remunerate their costly labors; but they 
who bade the structure rise were only sojourners, 
tenants at will—and the moment they were finally 
departed, nature combined her living ornaments. 
with the witcheries of art, to frame a temple for 
the owl. Broad-headed oaks, rustling glossy ivy, 
and herbage of violet green, were mingled with 
the shattered frames of gorgeous story, flowered 
keystones of blue and scarlet, and spiry, gilded 
tabernacles, and tombs of brazen imagery. The 
place was bannered with living foliage—the pro- 
fane sanctuary was restored by nature, and it 
became the hereditary tenement of the pensive 
and majestic anchorite of birds. The mailed 
fortalice frowns in adamantine might on the brow 
of the ocean-guarded rock; the colossal bulk of 
its towers, the echoing vastness of its courts, are 
a marvel and a portent; and luxury conceived 
she had done her utmost, when the oaken roofs 
and arras hangings of its lordly apartments were 
ruddied with the festal lustre :—it was only for a 
palace to the owl! In the wide area of the 
baronial hall, or the luxurious recess of the lady’s 
bower, the dignified owl abides, the heir of all the 
power, the honors, and the crimes of a vanished 
lineage! Little he trows or cares for the plots, 
the feuds, and amours, that once distinguished the 
battlemented solitude. He only feels that the 
inalienable dominion is his—his only. And where 
the golden gilliflower, rising from its piky tufts, 
pours its perfume by the quaint loophole, or the 
minute ivy spreads its shining net-work over the 
red turret—he, with his coifed mate and downy 
progeny, reposes in all the placid pride of undis- 
puted supremacy. —Witiiam D. 
The Palm-Tree.—The Palm-tree is remarkable 
for loftiness, straightness, and productiveness, 
and hence made an emblem in Scripture of up- 
rightness, fruitfulness, and victory. Its fruit is 
the date, very sweet and nourishing, and a large 
portion of the inhabitants of Egypt, Arabia, and 
Persia, subsist almost entirely upon it. Camels 
are fond of the stone. ‘This fruit is of the size of 
an olive. Palm branches were signals of joy and 
triumph. The leaves are six or eight feet long, 
and proportionably broad when spread out; they 
are used to cover houses, and make couches, 
baskets, bags, fences, hats, &c. From the fibres 
of the branches are made thread, ropes, rigging, 
&c. Indeed, the natives (says Gibbon) celebrate 
either in prose or verse, three hundred and _ sixty 
uses to which the trunk, branches, leaves, juice, 
and fruit, are applied. The palm-tree attains 
maturity in thirty years from planting the seed ; 
and continues in full strength for seventy or eighty 
years, bearing annually three or four hundred 
pounds of dates; and finally dies at about two 
hundred years old. From its sap palm wine is 
made, called by the natives Araky. It is a 
beverage which easily intoxicates, and is thought 
by Bishop Lowth to be the *‘ strong drink” men- 
tioned in Isaiah v. 11, and xxiv. 9. From the 
species of palm-tree called Landon, growing wild 



in various parts of the East, the common sago is 
procured.—SyYLyIA. 

Hints on Feeding Fowls —Never buy damaged 
corn. Itis bad policy, and already, seeing how 
dear corn is, it has caused mischief. Always get 
the best food,—or leave off keeping poultry. The 
Bristol Journal says:—‘ We have heard that 
several fowl-keepers in this neighborhood have 
lost some of their hens and chickens, and the 
supposed reason for their death is their being fed 
on cheap damaged corn. One person at Horfield, 
soon after she fed her flock with some of the 
damaged corn, which she purchased in Bristol, 
noticed that several of them became ill ; and in a 
few minutes four of them died.” —W. K. 

The Stirrup Cup.—The cordial stirrup cup of 
the Scotch and Irish has its origin in the parting 
cup (the poculum boni genii) of the ancients. 
When the Roman supper was ended, as it began, 
with libations to the gods, prayers were offered for 
the safety and prosperity of the host. His 
health was drunk at the same time, during the 
reign of the Ceesars, as that of the Emperor; and 
a last cup was quaffed to one general “ good 
night.” This custom, which was continued for 
ages, was long religiously adhered to by our 
hospitable ancestors, until it was exploded by tke 
icy refinement of modern manners.—V. 

A Cure for Iumbago, Scalds, and Burns.— 
Procure a large sheet of wadding. It is sold by 
all linendrapers. Fold it into three or four thick- 
nesses ; and to keep it firm, let it be tacked on to a 
piece of linen or flannel. This done, you have in 
your hand a remedy that never can fail. Be 
sure and let the wool be next the skin. Place 
the wadding all round the part affected by pain, 
and secure it by strings of tape. Keep it on all 
through the winter, and you and pain will become 
strangers to each other. In cases of scalds and 
burns, apply the wadding immediately ; and only 
note the effect! People say “the age of miracles 
is passed.” Js it? Not while the cures I hint 
at are, through Nature’s kind agency, so marvel- 
lously and quickly wrought!—W. G., Bayswater. 
[Let us gratefully acknowledge here, that wz 
have just been “ miraculously” cured of the most 
horrible lumbago that ever visited mortal man, by 
the simple remedy above proposed. We accident- 
ally heard of a benevolent gentleman, residing at 
Bayswater, who could cure us. We wrote and 
asked,—“ would he kindly do so?”’ The follow- 
ing post made us his grateful debtor for life. We 
did not take up our bed and walk,—but we lifted 
up our poor back, and walked—the next morning. 
May Heaven's blessing rest on the kind W.G,! 
say we.] 
The Language of Nature—There is no lan- 
guage which can speak more intelligibly to the 
thoughtful mind than the language of nature ; 
and it is repeatéd to us, as it were, every year, to 
teach us trust and confidence in God. It tells us 
that the: Power which first created existence, is 
weakened by no time, and subject to no decay. It 
tells us that, in the majesty of his reign, a thou- 
sand years are but as one day, while, in the bene- 
ficence of it, one day is as a thousand years. It 

