KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



299 



But why is the gallant captain to be called a 

 sponge ? you will ask me. Well, I shall explain ; 

 and in order to do so roust commence by giving 

 you an idea of one of his visits in summer ; pre- 

 mising that he found them so agreeable, that he 

 would manage so to arrange his time as to pass 

 each day of the week at the house of one of his 

 friends. Should any one of them happen really 

 to be absent, or " not at home," he generally bent 

 his steps towards Bcrubyx, to make up for his 

 disappointment. His usual practice was, after his 

 breakfast, to go down to the lake, to take a bath 

 with his dog. Thence he would generally stride 

 to Bombyx' s, arriving about half-past ten o'clock. 

 Having secured " Brilliant," he would come up 

 in the drawing-room. 



" Bon jour, Boinbyx." 



" Bon jour, capitaine. Vous avez bien chaud." 



" Morbleu, oui ! Je viens de nager jusqu a 

 Lutry, et de retour; et cela, Monsieur, sans sortir 

 du lac. Je crois, qu'il y a pen de Vaudois qui 

 peuvent en faire autant" — (^the distance there 

 and_back would not be more than six miles). 



"Jepense bien" replied Bombyx, looking as 

 grave as he could. "Je crois bien, mon cher 

 capitaine, qu'un verre d'yvorne ne sera pas de 

 trop" 



To this the worthy captain replied with an 

 almost inexpressible smile of delight, which 

 showed you had just hit his very idea. 



" Vous avez parfaitement devine mes pensees, 

 mon cher ami." 



Up came a bottle of yvorne, which the captain 

 himself politely uncorked; and filling the glasses 

 with the most refined bon gout — 



" A votre saute", mon cher," said he. " Excellent 

 wine !" 



A number of curious sporting anecdotes fol- 

 lowed, which passed the time till dinner. A 

 little before one o'clock, the rattling of plates 

 and the jingling of glasses would fall upon his 

 ear, and announce the approach of the dinner 

 hour. The captain would now half rise (what an 

 inviting smile there was upon his face !) 



" Vous allez diner; ilfaut que je pars" 



" Oh non, capitaine ; p>uis que vous etes id, 

 vous jerez bien de partager noire diner. Si cela 

 ne vous derangerait pas, mon cher." 



" Oui, volontiers — mais — " 



M Du tout" replied Bombyx. 



" Vous etes si amical, mon cher." 



" Point de complimens, capitaine, allons diner.*' 



After dinner, Bombyx would ask the captain 

 if he had any objection to a bottle of Volnay or 

 hermitage. 



" Parbleu, non!" 



" Now, captain, let us adjourn to the summer- 

 house with a few bahias, and something light to 

 smoke. What shall it be — St. Julien or Chateau 

 Margaux V 



" Mon cher, ce que vous voulez. Cest 

 par fait." 



More adventures, and a replenishment of " St. 

 Julien," till five o'clock; when a nice cup of 

 coffee was just the thing. Again the time was 

 whiled away, with the aid of another bahia, until 

 eight o'clock, when supper was announced. Once 

 more the gallant captain would make an effort to 

 move ; but of course the cold ham and asparagus 



smelt so savory that he did not require much 

 pressing from Bombyx to remain. 



"Now, captain, I think a glass of old ' Deides- 

 heimer' will not be amiss." 



" Saprolops! vous avez la une idee parfaite." 

 After this, cold eau de cerise and water till 

 about half-past ten o'clock ; when the jovial 

 captain really did muster up all his courage, and 

 finally took his leave, accompanied by his favorite 

 dog, which I allow was a very handsome creature. 

 Now, let me tell you, although Bombyx is 

 always glad to welcome a friend, yet when such 

 visits as these come regularly once or twice a 

 week, it must be confessed they are positively 

 inconvenient, and even intrusive. Moreover, when 

 Bombyx was not favored, some other friend was 

 honored. This was particularly vexing to an 

 honorable man, who knew that the captain's better- 

 half was obliged to remain at home, almost in the 

 capacity of a menial — existing, too, upon very 

 indifferent fare, while her lord and master was 

 feeding upon the best of everything under the 

 hospitable roof of some of his acquaintance 

 Entre nous, I have a strong impression (I am not 

 bound to give all my reasons for my own private 

 opinions, Mr. Editor) that he was living upou 

 the very property which he inherited from his 

 wife at her marriage. Was this not monstrous? 

 [Monstrous indeed ! dearFino. There are far too 

 many of these "captains."] 



Winter or summer, spring or autumn, were 

 equally agreeable to him. He always knew 

 where to get quarters for himself and his dog. He 

 would entertain you with the most extravagant 

 stories ; and actually once turned his back on his 

 friend for nearly two months, when he paid a visit 

 to the French capital. On his return, Lausanne 

 was scarcely large enough to hold him. He had 

 purchased a Parisian veste, and a fashionable 

 chapeau with a very high conical crown. A 

 smart pair of gloves, too, and a cane ; and half a 

 yard of blush-colored ribbon for his wife. Oh ! if 

 you had seen him, thus equipped, strut across 

 the Place St. Francois ! It was unique. 



But his adventures ! He had been to the 

 theatre de V opera, and the audience were so 

 struck with his martial appearance that they 

 actually gave him three cheers. He was so 

 besieged by the Paris belles, he could not venture 

 to walk out of his hotel in broad daylight. He 

 was once seen by his late Majesty Louis Philippe, 

 who was heard to say that if he had one regi- 

 ment of such men as that, he could defy the world. 

 He looked down upon his fellow Vaudois as 

 though he was Jupiter on the summit of 

 Olympus. 



Volnay, Cliateau Margaux, and Deidesheimer 

 were no longer good enough for him. Nothing 

 but the finest Burgundy, hermitage, Johanisberg, 

 or sparkling Sillery, were sufficiently generous for 

 his refined palate ; and he would think nothing 

 of swimming across the lake and back again (some 

 fourteen miles') before dinner, just to obtain an 

 appetite; and as for his sporting, the fete of 

 Guillaume Tell sinks into nothing. 



He would engage (if any one would take the 

 bet) to shoot a quarter of a franc clean from be- 

 tween their thumb and finger, at a distance of at 

 least a mile and a half, without ever once failing. 

 But I never saw him do so ! 



