KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



301 



sessing his lovely person? One only can have 

 him; and lb e other kind hearts that desired to 

 do him homage, (but did not apply in time to be 

 first in their application) will, I know, allow 

 me to thank them through you. Let me take 

 this opportunity of telling you, that I have just 

 had a very handsome pied fly-catcher sent me 

 from Worthing. It is rather rare in the 

 south; though common, I believe, about "the 

 lakes."— P. 



Vanessa Urticce] Variety of the Chrysalids. — 

 During the month of August last, I took a num- 

 ber of the larva? of this insect. Among the 

 chrysalids produced were two, the same in every 

 respect as the others, except in being brilliant 

 yellow. In fact, they resembled a piece of 

 polished brass. They subsequently became of a 

 reddish-brown color. The perfect insects never 

 appeared. There was also another with but 

 faint traces of the lustrous gilding of the rest, 

 and nearly white. — C. Miller, Hackney. 



Habits of the Heron. — There is a heron, Mr. 

 Editor, which regularly frequents the large wood 

 above my house. He has been there for two 

 years; and has invariably occupied the same 

 bough of a tall oak. He is a confirmed old 

 bachelor, and fond of being alone — a strange 

 fancy you will say! [It is indeed. But perhaps, 

 Sir, he has "reasons" for it; reasons un- 

 known to you and to ourself. H-e-m!] My 

 friend Mr. Waterton, of Walton Hall, has just 

 given me such excellent advice, that I hope I 

 shall be able to induce him to " breed," next 

 spring. [Let us hope so. If anything " weighty " 

 now lies heavy on his mind, time may obli- 

 terate the remembrance of it.] I will let you 

 know if he does. — John Matthew Jones, 

 Montgomery, N. W. 



A " funny " Dog, and "funny " Babbits. — A 

 short time since, Mr. Editor, I was walking with 

 my sister, in a lane leading from our cottage to 

 the station. (You well know the place.) A 

 heavy storm of rain coming on at the time, we 

 were compelled to take shelter in a most unin- 

 viting-looking cottage. On entering, there was 

 a scene I shall never forget. Not the least curi- 

 ous part of it, was the variety of children of all 

 ages and sizes — some dressed, some undressed. 

 On a heap of clothes in one corner, lay a large 

 cat, sleeping ; and a thrush, suspended on the 

 wall, made himself heard high above the rest. 

 He was in his glory, and evidently, from his 

 tameness, he ranked as one of the family. To 

 complete the picture, a very handsome white 

 terrier dog, sound asleep, decorated the hearth- 

 rug. As the rain fell in torrents, to go out was 

 impossible; we therefore determined to make 

 the best of it. Little did we know what fun was 

 in store for us ! We had hardly time to let 

 our imagination dwell upon the probable number 

 of rats that had fallen a prey to the sleeping dog, 

 before, to our great surprise, our little company 

 received an addition. A rabbit had joined us, 

 unperceived ! Hopping up familiarly to the dog, 

 Bunny's first feat was to jump clean over his 

 back. She then alighted on his side; and this 

 not rousing him, she besieged his nose. This 



last effort woke Pincher up, and his natural 

 good-temper caused him to wake pleasantly. 

 (You know, Mr. Editor, we sometimes wake 

 cross, when we are disturbed.) Bunny now set 

 off at full speed, closely followed by Pincher; 

 and away they flew, round and round and 

 round ; until at length Bunny fairly gave in 

 from fatigue. The game over, she stopped to 

 take breath ; and having received a friendly poke 

 on the nose from Pincher — exit Bunny. Pincher 

 for a while seemed thoughtful, but his thoughts 

 were soon set aside, and he again fell asleep — 

 to wake in five minutes afterwards, to look for 

 another rabbit. He had expected her it seems 

 to come in, as usual ; but not brooking the delay, 

 he now went to fetch her. We followed him 

 to the door; and inside, sure enough there was 

 another rabbit. To give her a friendly scratch 

 with his paw, to " start her off," was the work of 

 an instant. Away flew Bunny; away dashed 

 Pincher; and the game was repeated (as before); 

 only with variations. The old woman at the 

 cottage, told us this was a " regular game" here 

 daily ; and it was still " better fun" when the 

 children joined in and ran with the animals. The 

 cat all the while sat looking on, with the gra- 

 vity of a judge. It was such fun, Mr. Editor! 

 Although the animals ran over her several 

 times, she was so used to it that she never 

 moved ! — By the way, those darling milk-white 

 pigeons of mine, which you love so dearly, are as 

 " strange " as ever. They will not sleep in the 

 dovecote ; but will be in the house where I am, 

 day and night. How they do love me ! [Why 

 should you wish to get rid of anything that so 

 loves you? We approve, vastly, of the sted- 

 fastness of these same pigeons. Would we were 

 one of them !] Perhaps it is because I love 

 them. You know well, Mr. Editor, what " sym- 

 pathy" is; or you would never have penned that 

 note to the tale called the " Fatal Gift." — 

 Leonora, Leeds. 



[We will not attempt to contradict you, Miss 

 Leonora. Your philosophy does you honor.] 



An " ancient' Mule. — I send you, Mr. Editor, 

 some very curious particulars of a mule, nearly a 

 century old. They are copied from the Manchester 

 Guardian — " We noticed some months ago, that 

 an old mule, the propertyof the Earl of Ellesmere, 

 had been stolen from Worsley Village, and after 

 a six weeks' absence, had been fortunately reco- 

 vered. This aged creature, believed to be 

 between 90 and 100 years old, has, after working 

 almost a century, been at length ' turned out to 

 grass' upon the moss, and is described by those 

 who have seen it, to be ' as lively as a cricket.' 

 The mule's great age is well authenticated ; for 

 Mr. Joseph Brotherton, M.P., can remember 

 some fifty years ago, to have seen it on the 

 Bridgewater estate, and it was then known as 

 ' the old mule.' A carter who died some months 

 ago, aged 80 years, could remember working the 

 animal above 60 years since. It is of very 

 diminutive size; and we hope it is now to enjoy 

 green pastures and fresh water, freed from toil, 

 for the remainder of its protracted existence." — 

 Whatever doubts may arise about the " stupi- 

 dity" of this mule, none surely can arise about 

 his being an " aged" animal! — Query. After 



