GOD, I thank thee for the blessing For its mother's precious life. With thy mother's tear of gladness, Still, my child, thy cheek is wet; When hopes perish, friends forsake thee, Dost thou fear a father's kisses, That thou turns't thine eyes from me? "Tis a fonder breast she misses; Nature speaks, my babe, in thee. "Tis a clime can ne'er grow cold. Go, my love; I cannot chide thee That for hers thou leav'st my breast; Still when cares or joys have tried me, There has been my happiest rest. She has been earth's richest dower, She my spirit's priceless_gem; Fold thy tiny arms, sweet flower, Round thy dear and parent stem. God of mercy, who hast given This new link to bind our love, Kindly grant us light from Heaven, Worthy of our task to prove! Give our tender cares thy blessing, Fill our hearts with grace divine; Let the babe our arms are pressing, Father-Mother-ALL BE THINE! OUR ENGLISH CLIMATE. THE MOIST AND FOGGY CLIMATE of England is proverbial with foreigners, and a matter of half-melancholy joke with Englishmen themselves. The perpetual verdure of our fields bespeaks us denizens of a rainy zone-inhabitants of an intermitting showerbath. Our speech betrayeth us; the weather is ever uppermost in our thoughts, and the first thing spoken of when friends meet. The Aquarius is our constellation. natives of such a clime might naturally be imagined as exempt from fear of rain as Mephistophiles alleges Faust ought to be from fear of fire. It is their element; which, they ought to know, cannot harm them or theirs. Yet they are as shy of rain as a kitten of dew, when it first ventures abroad of a morning. England is a land where short crops occasionally occur, but where the years of utter blight, which often lay other lands desolate, are scarcely known. Despite our frequent wet, raw, and ungenial summers, within the memory of our fathers and fathers' fathers seed time and harvest have not failed. Yet to an Englishman a wet July immediately conjures up visions of famine, with pestilence and bankruptcies in its train. Burns was wrong when he said that they who are "constantly on poortith's brink" are little terrified by the sight. It is only those who are steeped in it over head and ears who become resigned to their fate. It is in those to whom a chance of emerging seems still open, that the fear is strongest ; to which the thoughtless Dives and the desperate Lazarus are alike inaccessible. And so with Englishmen and the weather. Were their climate one in which no corn could grow, they would never think of crops; and were it so genial that the crops were always redundant, they wonld wax insensible to the blessing from sheer excess. But, living in a region to which hope ever comes, and from which fear never entirely departs, they abandon themselves too readily to unmanly fears. They are weather valetudinarians, a nation of Gratianos-"the wind cooling their broth blows them to an ague." One thing, however, is certain,-viz., that although the climate is so changeable, and rains pour down so incessantly, yet do Englishmen and English crops, like English frogs, take a great deal of drowning! EARLY IMPRESSIONS. CHILDHOOD'S INNOCENCE. I WILL NOT FLATTER YOU, my dear sir, by telling you in what repute you are held in Devonshire (perhaps you already have heard of it),-suffice it, that whatever you say is received here with more than common favor and interest. Your former remarks on "A Child's Heart" (see vol. iii., page 209), and your more recent extensive observations upon children (scattered over very many pages of OUR JOURNAL), induce me to send you the following, which (we all think here) deserve a place in your pleasant pages." The present mode of educating children is, as you remark, barbarous indeed! The minds and bodies of these little innocents are equally deformed,- -nature being altogether sacrificed to pride, ignorance," Fashion," (your enemy!) and folly. Like yourself, I dearly love children, and delight in leading their youthful, expanding minds, to those innocent inquiries which, properly replied to, form the basis of their "early education." I quite agree with you, that we can never begin too soon to teach a child what it ought to know. The more gradual its progress, the better. As for those nurses and others, to whose care these embryo men and women are usually confided, vous avez raison. To them are mainly attributable three-fourths of a child's bad habits. How can it be otherwise? Badly taught and instructed themselves, they of course instil into a child's mind their own ideas of right and wrong. "Odd" ideas are they, truly! But my object, to-day, is not to write an essay. I merely prefix these few observations to an extract or two I have copied for you, from an article in "Household Words" (the writer's name does not appear). The extracts are purposely short; because I am anxious to impress the sentiments upon your readers' minds: - What a sweet commentary have we here, on Nature's lavish bounties to children! And yet, how hard do people labor to destroy the innocence that ought to be so enchanting! But now let me direct your attention to the innate "love" of babyhood:-"The first words children utter are words of 'love.' And these are not necessarily taught them. Their very inarticulate ejaculations are full of love. They love all things. The parrot, though he bites them; the cat, though she scratches; the great bushy blundering house-dog; the poultry in the yard; the wooden-legged, oneeyed negro who brings the beer; the country lout with clouted shoon who smells so terribly of the stable; the red-faced cook; the grubby little knife-boy; the foolish, fat, scullion; the cross nurse. They love all these. And so they do horses, trees, gardens, and toys, breaking their little hearts (easily mended again, thank Heaven!) if they are obliged to part from them. "And, chiefer still, they love that large man with the gruff voice, the blue rough chin, the large eyes, whose knees comprise such an inexhaustible supply of cock-horses, always standing at livery, yet always ready to ride post-haste to Coventry. They love papa. And, chiefest of all, they love her of the soft voice, the smiles, the tears, the hopes, the cares, the tenderness-who is all in all, the first, the last to them in their tender, fragile, happy childhood. "I have never seen a child feed a donkey with macaroons, but I have seen one little girl press pound-cake upon a Shetland pony, and another little girl give half of her cake to a four-footed acquaintance of the Newfoundland breed. I have watched the charitable instincts of children Mamma is the centre of love. Papa was from babyhood to schoolhood, when hopes an after acquaintance. He improves upon acand cankering fears, desire of praise, solici- quaintance, too. But mamma was always with tude for favor, and lust of gain begin; shut-them-to love, to soothe, to caress, to care for, ting up charity in an iron-bound strong box of small-worldliness. "Children love to give. Is it to feed the ducks in the park, or slide warm pennies into the palsied hands of cripples, or drop them into the trays of blind men's dogs, or pop them, smiling, into the slits of money-boxes, or administer eleemosynary sustenance to Bunny and Tiny the rabbits, or give the pig a poon?'-to give is indeed their delight. They want no tuition in charity: it is in them, God-sent. 6 "Yonder little chubby sheet of blank stationery, who is mumbling a piece of parliament in his nurse's arms, has scarcely consciousness of muscular power sufficient to teach him to hold the sweetmeat fast. Yet, if I ask baby-half by word, half by gesture to give me a bit, this young shortcoated Samaritan-who not long since began to take notice, and can only just ejaculate Da-da! ma-ma! '— will gravely remove the parliament from his own lips and offer it to mine. Were he a very few months older, he would clutch it tighter in his tiny hand, and to watch over. When a child wakes up hot and feverish from some night dream, it is upon his mother he calls. Each childish pain, each childish grief, each childish difficulty is to be soothed, assuaged, explained by her. They The child clings to her. The little boy in have no secrets; they understand each other. the Greek epigram that was creeping down a precipice, was invited to his safety, when nothing else could induce him to return, by the sight of his mother's breast." Now, my dear sir, have we not here all the elementary matter for a good education? Such pliable materials! Such an honest, guileless heart to work upon! Such pure, such natural, such innocent soil to receive the seed sown! And yet, alas ! what use do we make of it? The answer is best given by looking upon the sad state of society which now exists among us. We are altogether hollow, altogether unnatural; and positively prefer deception to the unspeakable delights arising from the practice of innocence and virtue! MORE ABOUT "LITTLE THINGS." BY OUR EDITOR." Take sound ADVICE, proceeding from a heart Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art. DRYDEN. ings of the poor call so loudly for relief. Surely, this thoughtlessness is culpable! Those who most deserve relief are people who, though willing, are unable to obtain work. We advocate not the cause of the idle or indolent, neither do we put in a single word for beggars. We believe these last to be arrant impostors in at least ninety-nine KIND, who, knowing what is cases out of every hundred. All who relieve right, yet withholds that them do a serious injury to society; for knowledge from his fellow-beggars live and feast, whilst the deserving Most of us offend exist and starve. This is a "little thing," but worthy attention. UESTIONABLE INDEED IS THAT MAN'S LOVE FOR MAN man. from the want of thought; and as the object of "OUR JOURNAL" is to make people "think," we shall try and accomplish that object as kindly as may be. A word fitly spoken, is like apples of gold in pictures of silver." Our much-esteemed correspondent, CATHARINA, has invited us to dwell often upon "Little Things." She says, and with truth, that life is made up of such; and that it is greatly in our power to make each other happy by attending to what are called "trifles." How true this is! We are for ever harping upon a similar string. It is nearly a twelvemonth since we wrote an article entitled "Little Kindnesses" (see vol. iii., p. 7). We had no idea, at the time, that there was in it anything of extraordinary interest, although we felt delighted whilst penning it. We are quite wrong in this opinion. That paper has been referred to times out of number. Indeed, it has been the means of our receiving "proofs" innumerable (through the post, and by private hand) of the impression it made on the minds of our readers. We always receive these welcome offerings, be it known, with real pleasure. Nor have certain of these "little things" failed to bring us into friendly intimacy with the senders thereof. We owe to them an unceasing debt of gratitude. We have contracted friendships which will terminate only in death. This is the very season for an observance of "little things.' A person may not be able to be charitable to any great extent. He may not be able to clothe a poor family; but he may be able to give them a meal. By a little self-denial, he may also do something more than this. He might, too, get a friend to aid him in a good cause: and the two mites united might procure a flannel waistcoat, some stockings, and other warm apparel. A supply of fuel, too, might be sent in to gladden some sorrowful hearts. Where there is a will in these matters, there is generally a way. Only let the disposition exist. We are often surprised at the apathy that exists in some; the extravagance in others; the thoughtlessness in the many; and the waste in all,-at a time, too, when the suffer VOL. IV.-22. In our neighborhood, beggars swarm. There are organised groups of them, who have their regular rounds on regular days in the week. Sturdy vagabonds are the menterrible, some of them, to look upon; and they are mostly armed with thick sticks, to knock at the door, whilst the men retire beenforce charity. The women are sent in to hind the walls without; and if a female only be visible, the beggars try to obtain an entry by placing one of their hands inside the door, defying her to crush it. If she use force, one of the men rushes in, and a row is the consequence. On such occasions many articles disappear from the passage,―hats, cloaks, umbrellas, &c. This is a matter of constant occurrence, and we give this as a friendly warning. Good people-always keep your garden-gates locked, and fasten up every door and window securely at night. Thus alone will you be safe during the coming winter. This is a "little thing," but it is of great consequence. Connected with "little things," CATHARINA refers us to a small book bearing that title. We have procured it; and it is, as she says, suggestive of much that must tend to domestic happiness. It points out, very forcibly, all wherein we are deficient. It shows us the evil of self-indulgence; how, whenever "little duties" are neglected, discomfort and discontent invariably follow. It speaks charmingly, too, of the many advantages derivable from method, order, and punctuality-things in which women usually far behind, but which really are of immense importance. are Each one of a thousand acts of love costs very little by itself; and yet, when viewed altogether, who can estimate their value? What is it that secures for one the name of a kind neighbor? Not the doing of half-adozen great favors in as many years. No! But the little every-day kindnesses, (neither of which seems of much consequence considered in itself,) which, by their continued repetition, throw a sunlight over the whole neighborhood. It is so, too, in the family. The child whose good offices are always ready when they are wanted-to run upstairs or down, to rock the cradle or to run Y on an errand, and all with a cheerful look and pleasant temper-has a reward attending such good deeds. If a little girl cannot take her grandfather on her lap, as he takes her on his, she can get his slippers, or put away his book, or gently comb his thin locks; and, whether she thinks of it or not, these little kindnesses, coming from a loving heart, are the sunbeams that lighten up the world we live in. A loving heart and an affectionate disposition, however, want no prompting. As regards ourself-when we cease to love, we shall cease to live. Life without love, is as a body without a soul. Early rising is another point strongly inisted on; and the reasons "why" are excellent. In England, laziness is carried out to a fearful extent; nor is it unusual to see people creep down to breakfast with their eyes hardly open. This, among all classes. Housekeeping duties are then hinted at, and rules given to make them sit easy. We are also shown the folly of not being "ready" when dinner is announced-keeping the company waiting, &c. All these evils exist, more or less, in half the families in the kingdom. The following is worthy of attention :— "There is an old saying, which was often repeated to me in my youth-Can do is easily carried about with you.' And really I think it amounts to a duty in woman to attend to this saying, for we hardly ever learn to do anything that we do not find the advantage of at some time or other. Some persons are naturally more neat-handed and notable than others; but every woman should endeavor to learn all she can of the little arts that make life comfortable; and above all, of whatever can make her useful in a sick-room. No doubt the same qualities of method, order, and good management, will show themselves in every department of duty; but much may be gained by observation, and a desire to learn, from whatever source. beneath their care, or not having taste enough to feel the want of them. Their rooms have a blank, uncomfortable, uninhabited look; their personal attire is always unlike other people's, they never seem to notice any improved way of managing little matters, or they do not like the trouble of learning and practising it; and it is ten chances to one, that by beginning with despising decoration and taste, they end by neglecting comfort." There is a great deal of truth in the foregoing. We could easily judge of the mistress, by a peep at the arrangement of her rooms and garden. We are always advocating cheerfulness Let us hear what the and good humor. book says about these: humor is so important, hat I hardly should "The duty of being always in a good enumerate it among little things; but all else soft balmy air and bright sunshine of a summer's morn, which when we feel and breathe, we think no other enjoyment can equal; without which the finest landscape wants a charm, and with which, the dreariest moorland is bright and beautiful. Great duties, great kindnesses, lose much of their virtue and power to benefit others, if not performed in this spirit; and little duties and little kindnesses are indeed nothing without the sunshine of cheerful good humor to gild and adorn them. Akin to this, is the duty of cultivating a cheerful disposition,- ---a disposition to be easily pleased. There are persons to whom this seems natural, who are always pleased; and we all feel how much more agreeable it is to have anything to do with them, than with those who, either from indifference or discontent, are seldom or never pleased. By this duty, however, I mean rather more than merely not being discontented-I mean the disposition to show that we are pleased, a good-humored way of receiving little services, a readiness to admire what we see others wish us to like, and a willingness to 'do unto others as we wish they should do unto us, the reverse, in is almost valueless without it. It is like the "There are some people who never go from home without bringing back some use ful hint in housekeeping, in the arrangement of a room, the order of the table; or, it may be, the planning and planting of the flower-short, of a captious fault-finding spirit. garden. These are the persons who know the best way of doing everything; their homes may be known by the air of comfort and elegance they contrive to give by attention to little things; not merely by tidiness, but by tasteful arrangement, and a degree of attention to decoration. Some one speaks of the little things that mark the whereabouts of woman-flowers especially do so; and trifling as some may think it, I uphold it as one of our little duties, to make our homes not only as comfortable, but as pretty and pleasing as possible. "It may be alleged that a careful attention to some of these little duties may lead to an irksome particularity, a teasing habit of for ever putting to rights, and to a neglect of more important concerns. This will never be the case, however, if we remember to perform little duties with a large spirit, and consider first the comfort of others." "There are some people who pay no heed to niceties of this kind, either esteeming them We shall now conclude this paper. In other parts of OUR JOURNAL 'will be found many similar sentiments; nor shall we ever cease to advocate the observance of “Little Things.” Sweeteners are they of life, on the one hand; or perpetual sources of discomfort and annoyance on the other. AN ADDRESS TO "OUR EDITOR." FROM THE LADIES OF DEVONSHIRE. DID you not say, "Dear Mr. Kidd," You lov'd the fair sex? We believe you. [True, ladies, true; we do,-we did, We would not for the world deceive you.] Well; let us whisper in your ear A little secret,-entre nous: We wish you many a happy year, And frankly tell you that-WE LOVE you. [Sensation.] We love you. Yes; "Our Editor" Not "one" is there superior In kindness, "heart," benevolence. Should sorrow e'er predominate, You kindly soothe and share it too; And like us, you abominate Cant and deceit. [Indeed we do!] We love you, though you do condemn Fashions" of the day [A-hem!]- Modest" our faces,-eyes,-and ears! "YOUR JOURNAL," too, we love; and note With great delight its healthy tone; Cherish the kindness you promote, And proudly hail it as,-" OUR OWN." Nothing you write can cause a blush, You love to have us wise and merry," But once you told a lady [H-u-s-h!] 66 You thought her smile "bewitching," very. We love you for your friendly care In saving many a "pet,"-our treasure; When, almost yielding to despair, Your voice has chang'd our pain to pleasure. AGAIN then we our thanks express, Such kindness we can n'er repay; [The lady to whom we are indebted for the above" Presentation" is "the" Devonshire Dove. (That loved county would seem to abound in doves.) In a specimen of caligraphy, perfectly bewildering from its extreme beauty, the signature attached is simply,] Torquay, Dec. 9. COLUMBA DEVONIENSIS. * We are fearful we may have said this to more than one lady; as our memory, on the present occasion, really is at fault.-EĎ. K. J. HUMILITY ever dwells with men of noble minds. It is a flower that prospers not in lean and barren soils; but in a ground that is rich, it flourishes and is beautiful.-FELTHAM. Reniem. THE NATURALIST.-No. 31. Groombridge and Sons. Among the interesting papers in the present number, are three to which we direct special attention. The first is a very proper condemnation of "Jennings' Eggs of British Birds;" a book which has been carelessly got up, is wretchedly illustrated, and in every respect faulty. It forms a strange contrast to the admirable work (by the Rev. F. O. Morris) on a similar subject, and published monthly. If birds are to be figured and colored, let them be something like nature; else are they valueless. The second paper we have referred to, is by Mr. William Thompson, of Weymouth. From this we borrow a few interesting observations relating to THE LOBSTER. Lobsters are caught by means of pots, made of withys, with the bars some little distance apart, or in nets; in either case the bars of the pot, or the meshes of the net, allow all but such as are of a marketable size to pass; and as Lobsters lay amongst rocks where no net can reach, they are safe from all danger, except what they themselves run into this is the reason that the young are so seldom seen. In the months of August, September, and October, pots are laid down for Prawns (Palamon serratus), and then we sometimes obtain small Lobsters. The Prawn-pots are made precisely the same pattern as the Lobster-pots, but smaller, and the open bars closer together, in order to prevent the egress of the Prawn-this also prevents the escape of the Lobster. There are now in the Aquavivarium of the Zoological Society, five Lobsters. All of them were obtained in Prawn-pots; the smallest is four inches in length, and the largest about five. These five Lobsters were kept some time in a perforated box, moored in the tideway; in this box were also placed Cottus bubalis, and some specimens alive of the Solenette Monochirus linguatulus. Some days after, on opening the box, I found nothing but some remains of the Solenettes. On putting some more specimens in the box I took out the Cottus, believing them to be the evil doers; especially as a day or two found one coiled away in the stomach of a Cottus, previous, having missed several Syngnathi, I giving its destroyer a very extraordinary appear ance. With all my precautions, still the Solenettes disappeared; and I succeeded in tracing home the crime to the Lobsters, one of which I caughtflagrante delicto. The following shows the large quantity exported from Norway from 1815 to 1835; it is taken from a book entitled "Norway and the Norwegians," by R. G. Latham :-" From 1815 to 1835 there was exported from Norway the following quantity of Lobsters, in round numbers:-1815 to 1819, six hundred and five thousand; 1820 to 1824, nine hundred and twenty-seven thousand; 1825 to |