126 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



whatever else you may please to call it, is black, 

 or dark brown, and about the girth of a fiddle- 

 string." If any correspondent of our Jour- 

 nal can throw light upon this marvel, or give 

 reference to others of a like class, they will be 

 conferring a favor on — K. P. D. E. 



The Larva of Insects. — I am not aware that 

 any one has succeeded in rearing Lasiocampa 

 rabi, from the larva state. Last October, I took a 

 number of the caterpillars of this moth ; but all my 

 endeavors to rear them through the winter have 

 proved vain. I fed them on bramble and willow, 

 so long as they were procurable. I then obtained 

 some light mould, similar to that found on com- 

 mons. This I covered with turf and dry leaves ; 

 placing it afterwards ( with the larvae) in the open 

 air. Some coiled themselves under the turf; 

 others among the leaves. Eventually, however, 

 the greater number shrivelled up and died. I was 

 thus compelled to give the rest their liberty, having 

 no way of rearing them. During the month of 

 October, they may be found on commons, basking 

 in the sun. They retire, if the day be dull and 

 cloudy, to the shelter of bushes ; where it appears 

 they lie dormant till spring. The little success 

 experienced in rearing this moth, combined with 

 its strong rapid flight, and consequent difficulty 

 of capture, causes it to be comparatively rare. 

 Some of your entomological correspondents may 

 perhaps have been more fortunate than myself, 

 and be able to throw some light on the subject. 

 I experienced much the same difficulty in rearing 

 the larvae of Clisiocampa Nerestria, till I found 

 that they require to be fed with water, after the 

 manner of Odonestis Potatoria. I can confirm 

 the statement made by your correspondent, " Ce- 

 rura" relative to the rash produced by handling 

 the larvce of the great tiger moth, and have no- 

 ticed the same circumstance in the larvae of Va- 

 nessa Urticce, Odonestis Potatoria, and some 

 others. — C. Miller, Hackney. 



Ravages by Insects. — I am induced, Mr. Edi- 

 tor, to send you an accotmt of the following remark- 

 able fact, in the hope that you or some of your 

 readers may be able in a measure to explain it. 

 Some years ago, I set out with three or four more, 

 to enjoy a summer evening's walk in that lovely 

 spot, Sutton Park. It was before the common was 

 enclosed, or a race course contemplated. The path 

 we took was then generally known as the road to 

 " Kirby's Mill." Whoever has once been there, will 

 remember that for some distance the way is through 

 the wood, and that a rather wide road divides the 

 trees on each side. Arrived at that part, a sight 

 presented itself, as singular as many of the fabled 

 deeds of fairies. On one side the trees were in all 

 the rich luxuriance of summer, whilst on the other 

 not a vestige of foliage remained. Nor did the 

 trees wear the naked aspect of winter ; they were 

 completely veiled in a delicate fine web, that was 

 spread from spray to spray, and hung gracefully 

 from the branches. Every tree, for a considerable 

 distance, was the same ; but not a trace of any 

 thing of the kind appeared on the opposite side of 

 the road. By what description of caterpillar such 

 havoc was made, or what particular tribe travels in 

 such multitudes, I know not. I am no entomolo- 

 gist ; and my ignorance of that study must plead 



my apology for the above imperfect description. 

 Think not, however, Mr. Editor, that the insect 

 world is devoid of interest to me; far from it, 

 but I have ever felt great reluctance " to shorten 

 life so brief as theirs," and consequently never col- 

 lected any by way of study. — Puss. 



My Dog " Punch.'"' 1 — Whilst thinking for an object 

 on which to found some notes for your popular 

 Journal, my eyes rested on my dog " Punch," — a 

 rough Scotch terrier, comfortably snoozing on the 

 hearth rug; and him I at once determined to 

 immortalise in your pages. Punch had the mis- 

 fortune to be born alone, i.e., he was an only son, 

 and therefore spoiled by every one. I shall not, 

 however, now give his early history, as perhaps 

 he may himself be infected with the cacoetlies scri- 

 bendi, and some day present his autobiography to 

 the world, in imitation of your correspondent 

 " Fino." Punch, like his master, and your corres- 

 pondent " Fino," has a turn for entomology ;^ but 

 instead of preserving, he at once eats his captives. 

 Being one day in the garden, he espied the bee- 

 hives, and imagined no doubt that he had dis- 

 covered a living larder — a perfect " California" of 

 tid-bits. But he was quickly undeceived. No 

 sooner had he entombed one luckless lee, than angry 

 hosts assailed him ; and the old fable of ' ' Bruin 

 and the Bees " was quite realised. Snapping was 

 useless ; growls," both loud and deep," availed him 

 nothing ; and even rolling on the ground did little 

 good. " From the end of his nose to the tip of 

 his tail," as the showman says, was a living mass 

 of winged furies ; so Punch thought that " discre- 

 tion was the better part of valor," and fled. In 

 so doing however, he nearly involved his master, 

 as he also had to " turn and flee." Punch touches 

 the bees no more ; and if eyer in the garden 

 (which is but seldom as we keep a hedgehog), 

 keeps a most respectful distance ; remembering 

 doubtless, in his inmost soul, his battle with the 

 bees. Punch is a discriminator of persons ; and, 

 as is the way of the world, the purple and fine 

 linen are " all" to him. The well-to-do he wel- 

 comes with a hearty wag of his tail, whilst^ the 

 poor wandering ragged vagrant he follows with a 

 suspicious look and noiseless step, — oftentimes 

 making his teeth intimately acquainted with their 

 poor defenceless heels. Alas, alas! Punch in 

 this resembles human nature, which looks only to 

 the outside and is therefore often in the wrong. I 

 have many times punished him for this unjustifi- 

 able oppression, but he will do it. So I must e'en 

 submit. As I live in town, and Punch in the 

 country, we see each other but seldom ; but at these 

 times our joy is excessive. I say " our," for I 

 think my delight fully equals Punch's, and with 

 us it is, — " love me, love my dog." By day he 

 trots about with me, and by night insists upon 

 sleeping in the same room with me. If taken 

 down to the kitchen, he quietly " in the dead of 

 the night" creeps up, " bounces" open my door, 

 and rushes frantically in upon me. Sunday he 

 respects rigidly ; and cannot be induced to accom- 

 pany us when going to Church. With hanging 

 head and drooping ears he sadly sees us depart, 

 but will not come out. On week days, who so ea- 

 ger as Punch to go for a stroll through the fields, 

 where perchance he may waylay a hare or sur- 

 prise a rabbit, or raise a covey of whirring par- 



