318 

KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

On looking out, he perceived one of his horses, 
who continued thus to attract attention. He got 
up—not being able to account for so singular a 
proceeding—and went to his field, where he found 
his other horse stuck fast in a bog, without the 
power to extricate himself; and in so critical a 
position that, had it not been for the alarm raised 
by his fellow drudge, he would have been dead 
before morning. What, Mr. Editor, are we to call 
this? Is there not here something like reasoning 
power displayed? for, strange as it may appear, 
I can vouch for the authenticity of the above.—J. 
F. Woop, F.H.8., The Coppice, Nottingham. 
[We readily confess, that the more we study 
the peculiarities of animals, the more puzzled we 
are to fathom the causes of their sagacity. Nature 
abounds in wonders. ] 

“Fanny Fern’s” ideas about our “ Fashion- 
able” Ladies.—A fashionable lady puts her chil- 
dren out to nurse, and tends lap-dogs. Lies in 
bed till noon—wears paper-soled shoes, and 
pinches her waist. Gives the piano fits, and 
forgets to pay her milliner—cuts her poor rela- 
tions, and goes to church when she has a new 
bonnet. Turns the cold shoulder to her husband, 
and flirts with his “friend.” Never saw a 
thimble—hardly knows a needle from a crow-bar 
—wonders where puddings grow—eats ham and 
eggs in private, and dines on a pigeon’s leg in 
public—runs mad after the last new fashion— 
loves a “spicy’’ novel—doats on Byron, and 
adores any man who grins behind a moustache.— 
[Well said, Fanny! You have agood eye, and 
a ready wit. | 
‘¢ Fashion's” Follies—To what end, asks a 
very shrewd and amiable writer, are all these 
mountebank bowings and reverences; these 
kissing of hands and backing out of rooms of lath 
and plaster ; these clatterings about streets for 
the purpose of bandying pieces of printed paste- 
board? These grinnings to your fellow-worm of 
five-feet long, across a glass of grape-juice ; these 
bawlings out of names by lacqueys;.these pos- 
turings and jumpings, and agonies of etiquette 
and turning day into night and night into day, 
and eating when we are not hungry, and drink- 
ing when we are not thirsty? All these, the 
life-chords of the Great ‘‘ Fashionable”? World,— 
to what end are they ? Who commanded them ?— 
Perhaps, my dear sir, you will print “the reply,” 
when it reaches you!—Puasez, Brighton. 

Home Birds in Foreign Lands.—In our last 
Saturday’s number (says the “‘ Manchester Guar- 
dian,’’ of November 5), we copied from Kr1pp’s 
Journat a long account of the pleasing efforts 
that had been made in America to acclimate some 
of our favorite British song-birds. An instance 
has come to our knowledge of a similar attempt in 
St. Helena. In the early spring of last year 
Lieut.-Colonel Macduff, of the St. Helena Regi- 
ment, being in London, on leave of absence, pur- 
chased three dozen each of larks, blackbirds, 
thrushes, and linnets, and shipped them off to 
St. Helena; where more than half the number 
arrived safely, and where we hope their merry 
home songs may gladden the heart of many a 


weary voyager as he returns from the east. As 
the thermometer at St. Helena is seldom below 
60°, the poor little birds will not have as many icy 
difficulties to contend with as those sent to North 
America.—T. S. W. 

Poetry, and its sweet Influences :— 
To touch the heart, and make the pulses thrill, 
To raise and purify the grovelling soul, 
To warm with generous heat the selfish will, 
To conquer passion with a mild control, 
And the whole man with nobler thoughts to fill : 
Turse aré thine aims,—O, pure unearthly 
power! 
These are thine influences ; and therefore those 
Whose wings are clogg’d with evil are thy foes ; 
And therefore those who have thee for thy 
dower— 
The widow’d spirits, with no portion here— 
Eat angels’ food, the manna thou dost shower. 
For there are pleasures, deep, and tried, and true, 
Whether to read, or write, or think, or hear, 
By the gross million spurn’d ; and fed on by the 
few. NANETTE. 

Summer Days in Winter.—Will you insert the 
following, if you please? ‘The lines are “ season- 
able :”— 
Summer is a glorious season, 
Warm, and bright, and pleasant ; 
But the Past is not a reason 
To despise the present. 
So while health can climb the mountain, 
And the log lights up the hall, 
There are sunny days in Winter—afier all. 
Summer trees are pretty—very, 
And I love them well; 
But this holly’s glistening berry 
None of them excel. 
While the fir can warm the landscape, 
And the ivy clothes the wall, 
There are sunny days in Winter—after all. 

Preaching for the Simple and the Learned.— 
I remember St. Gregory, says Donne, in handling 
one text, professes that he will endeavor to handle 
it so that the weakest understanding might com- 
prehend the highest points, and the highest under- 
standing not be weary to. hear ordinary doctrines 
so delivered. Indeed (he adds) it is a good art to 
deliver deep points in a holy plainness, and plain 
points in a holy delightfulness : for many times 
one part of our auditory understand us not when 
we have done, and so they are weary; and 
another part understand us before we begin, and 
so they are weary —There is an unmistakeably 
“ seasonable”’ hint here, my dear Sir. May it 
“take!”—A Frrenp or “ Truts.”’ 
The Swallow, Chafjinch, Robin, &c.—Thismorn- 
ing, Nov. 7,1 saw three swallows flying round our 
house, and over the garden. They seemed rest- 
less; and I soon lost sight of them. I imagine 
they were about to take their final leave. Is it 
not full late in the season for them to be here? 
All our winter birds are now coming close to the 
window. The “chinks” muster strongly,—and 

