KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



99 



symptoms of personal vanity were to be de- 

 tected in Bijou. I have no doubt he had a 

 decided objection to " showing off," ex- 

 cepting to myself. A bath was probably 

 given to compel obedience ; in which case, 

 I have reason to think he successfully as- 

 serted his independence. 



I could never positively ascertain the 

 facts ; but on my return (after a short ab- 

 sence), I observed one finger of the fair hand 

 that had ministered to him, suspiciously done 

 up in black ribbon ; and I fancied that, on 

 the approach of its owner, I detected a pecu- 

 liarly self-complacent and intelligent twinkle 

 in the small bright eyes of Bijou. His time 

 of activity was at night ; but he would come 

 readily to play in the day-time ; and was 

 torpid but a short time during winter, — 

 possibly from having shelter and food in 

 abundance. I had become used to the pat- 

 tering of his feet on the floor; but on one 

 occasion — (happily for my nerves Mrs. 

 Crowe's " Nightside of Nature " was not then 

 out), it was combined with a singular rust- 

 ling noise. At times, it was near me ; then 

 again, quite away. At length I started up, 

 to be yet more startled. The shutters were 

 as usual open (I love the light of Heaven), 

 and in the centre of the room, in the uncer- 

 tain wavering of the bright moonbeams, 

 moved a white, undefined shape. It glided 

 to a distant corner, and remained still. I 

 was about to follow, when it suddenly and 

 rapidly approached me. Then it became 

 again motionless. Putting out my hand, I 

 found, first, two large sheets of tissue paper 

 which had been tacked together to cover my 

 work — (I was then a slave to theworkframe 

 and its intellectual 1, 2, 3, 4) ; and under 

 them Bijou, who, not being able to extricate 

 himself from his unwieldy appendage, had no 

 doubt sought my assistance. I used to let 

 him walk in the garden ; but as, after a good 

 meal of insects and earth-worms he usually 

 went to sleep under a hedge or shrub, I 

 found it troublesome to hunt for him, and 

 placed him under a wicker-coop. But Bijou 

 understood the use of a wedge. Feeling 

 about for an interstice between the coop and 

 the ground, or making one by pulling up the 

 earth and grass, he raised it, by the help of 

 his long sharp snout, and recovered his 

 liberty in a moment. 



In this way, I lost him for some months ; 

 and gave him entirely up. One morning, in 

 autumn, however, I heard a singular blow- 

 ing noise (the French term flairer more 

 exactly gives my meaning). On opening the 

 door to ascertain the cause, a Hedgehog hur- 

 ried in. Not being myself in a very placid 

 mood (I have a dislike to replace one pet by 

 another similar one), I hastily concluded that 

 a mauvaise plaisanterie had been practised ; 

 and that a newly-caught Hedgehog had been 



placed near the door with the view of per- 

 suading me it was the lost one. I looked 

 therefore with no favorable eye on the new 

 arrival. His evident glee, however, and 

 familiarity with the apartment, led me to 

 take him up and examine him ; when I 

 became perfectly satisfied it was no stranger. 

 There was no room for doubt ; yet, how 

 with his dumpy fore feet he climbed two 

 flights of stairs, I cannot form an idea. That 

 he did so, is unquestionable. There was no 

 small degree of intelligence and recollection 

 shown in finding the exact door, as my little 

 friend must have passed several others ere 

 he could arrive at mine. After this, he 

 took another summer excursion ; but, mal- 

 heureuseme7it, he found on his return that 

 the inhospitable doors were closed against 

 him. He had returned in the night. 



One morning with a few, scant, withered 

 leaves over him — his fore paws pressed over 

 his snout to retain the warmth of his breath, 

 there was found (stiff and frozen) my ugly, 

 worthless, despised, grotesque, but affec- 

 tionate and much-lamented playmate —poor 

 Bijou. In the words of Mr. Capstick, 

 " Give me all bosom friends like him!" 



FORESTIERA. 



[Our fair and much- valued Correspondent 

 is no doubt a close observer of Nature, and 

 prizes true friendship — when she can find it. 

 We opine, however, if we could compare 

 notes more closely, that she, like ourself, 

 looks upon a " true friend " as a vara avis — 

 a something talked of indeed, but rarely met 

 with. Right well can we fathom, equally 

 well can we enter into, the nature and object 

 of the above communication. In all such 

 simple narratives there must be, and is a 

 powerful moral.] 



BIRDS OF SONG. 



No. XXII.— THE NIGHTINGALE. 



WE HAVE NOW ARRIVED AT A POINT OF 



rest, as regards our present disquisitions on 

 the nightingale.* Were all his virtues sung, 



* Our treatise on the Nightingale is this 

 day completed. We believe it contains every- 

 thing that needs to be known connected with 

 that bird. Long acquaintance with his habits, 

 and peculiar opportunities for noticing his dispo- 

 sition and temper, have enabled us to invest his 

 character with an originality that has already 

 won him hosts of new friends and admirers. 

 Our remarks, we observe, in a disjointed form, 

 have been borne on the wings of the Public 

 Press into all lands. The Nightingale deserves 

 such homage ; and we feel proud to have been 

 his historian. We have driven the i?ooA-Natural- 

 ists half mad, we are told. Their musty records 

 have been thumbed over till they are nearly 



