406 



KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 



" No, no; he's no lobster," cries Jean. " It's 

 a scorpion, lay hold of it." " Not I," says the 

 music master, " I'll not touch the monster for a 

 hundred florins." " I'll bring the creature 

 down," says Jean; and he cut the branch off with 

 his " serpetta." 



" That's a beautiful caterpillar, Jean." 



" That a caterpillar!" quoth Jean, as he stroked 

 his nose in double quick time; at the same time 

 eyeing Bombyx as if he thought he was making 

 a fool of him, — "Ah! c'estbon! vous allez me 

 faire un poisson !" 



" Non, non ; it is indeed a caterpillar, Jean, and 

 a scarce one too." " Well, I shall believe it 

 when I see the moth." " So you shall, Jean, he 

 is nearly his full size. It is 'Harpya Fagi.' " 



" Well, I have picked up another very good 

 one," says Bombyx, " it is ' Thyatyra Patis.' 

 We are rather in a lucky corner." " And look 

 at this beauty," cries one of the young ones. 

 " This is a lovely beast. I found him crawling 

 up that walnut tree." " I think it is ' Ami.' Yes 

 it is! capital!" 



" And what is this?" cries the German. 



" Well, that is really one of the most beautiful 

 caterpillars you can well see; that is'Exoleta;' 

 it is handsomer but not so scarce as his cousin 

 ' Vetusta.' Well, we cannot complain to-day." 

 " No, I only complain of getting rather thirsty," 

 says the music master. 



Jean grinned, and scratched his chin. " Well, 

 Jean, how far are we from the chalet?" 



" Voyons voir. Depuis ici, il nous faut bel et 

 bien trois quarts d'heure !" " Well, we have done 

 capitally, so now let us go and see mine host at 

 the Croix Blanche." 



Neither I nor my brother were sorry for this 

 move; for we had stretched our legs to their very 

 utmost; and were not sorry to think we should 

 soon have a rest, As we went forward, we took 

 ' Oxyacanthoe gnaphali,' ' Iota,' * Cubicularis,' 

 ' Abietaria,' ' Miaria,' 'Badiaria,' &c, &c. ; and a 

 vast many Micro -lepidoptera, — among them, the 

 lovely little ' Chlorana,' ' Viridana,' < Arcuana,' 

 ' Grotiana,' &c; and along the road the beautiful 

 little ' Lycoena Alsus.' 



After a while we reached ' Crissier;' and were' 

 quickly ushered up-stairs into a funny little corner 

 room. Some gentlemen below were discussing 

 the affairs of the parish over a pipe and a ' quar- 

 tetta.' I must say mine host of the Croix Blanche 

 was a thoroughly kind good sort of a man; for, 

 hearing of our adventure with Kenard, he mixed 

 us a soup fit for a 'grand-conseiller,' which we 

 devoured with capital 'gusto.' After this we 

 walked upstairs, where we found the music-mas- 

 ter cutting up a beautiful sausage. Bombyx too 

 was busy dissecting a couple of roast fowls, whilst 

 one of the young ones mixed a most delicious 

 salad. The other was occupied with a most 

 savory omelet, albeit not comparable to the 

 ever-to-be-respected ones of the 4 Tour de Gourzes ; 

 some capital vin de la cote and excellent pale 

 beer; a noble melon and ecrelet arrived, fresh 

 in the morning, from ' Nyons ;' after which were 

 introduced a glass of eau de cerises and a cigar. 



Our -weary limbs being thoroughly invigorated, 

 we marched slowly home, bringing with us about 

 a dozen lion ants, which we turned out of their 

 curious ' Entonnoir ;' and which by their singular 



operations and manners, afforded us much amuse- 

 ment and profitable instruction. I assure you, 

 Mr. Editor, I took a vast deal of interest in watch- 

 ing these queer-shaped insects. 



We passed by Prilly, and I gave a hasty glance 

 at ' l'Etoile sale ;' but I can assure you I was not 

 sorry to reach my snug home, and make myself 

 comfortable for the night, — being thoroughly 

 knocked up. 



Now, Mr, Editor, good-bye for the present; 

 and believe me, ever, your faithful old Friend, 



Tottenham, Dec. 16. Fino. 



LINES 



ON HEARING A SOLITARY THRUSH 

 SING. 



BY WILLIAM MOLYNEUX. 



Oh ! lovely bird of lovely song, 



How strike thy tones upon the heart! 



How purely soft thy music breathes 



And soothes awhile grief's cank'ring smart. 



How sweet, — how deeply sweet thou art, 



Alone upon the leafless tree, — 

 Awakening with thy simple note 



The happiest chords of memory ! 



The clouds are dark with heaping floods ; 



The sun o'ercast is seen no more: 

 And night's stern mantle droops to swell 



My sadness, when thy song is o'er. 



Oh! wait awhile, my rustic friend, 

 Nor cease to mock my bosom's swell; 



I live again, but in the world 



My home — my home alone can tell! 



And then, where thou art now but one, 

 A thousand would in chorus join, 



And fill the air with melody ; 

 But while you sing, /dare repine. 



Oh! sing — yes, sweetly sing, ye birds, 

 And may your warblings never die ; 



While Men have hearts to ease from pain, 

 And Nature tears for sympathy! 



Hyde, 1. W. 



A TRUE FRIEND. 



Lines suggested by reading in our journal 

 some beautiful verses on " Friendship," by helen 



HETHERINGTON. 



Is not he a true friend, who whate'er may befa>, 



Will ever be ready to answer your call? 



Who in life's changing seasons, whate'er may 



• betide, 

 Will ever be found clinging close to your side, — 

 In the path of prosperity loose not his hold, 

 But unaltered remain, though the world should 



grow cold? 



Yes, he is indeed a true friend who will share 

 Your joy and your gladness ; your grief and your 



care; 

 Rejoice when prosperity shines on your way, 

 Like the radiant gleams of a bright summer's day; 

 And in life's sad afflictions can e'en feel the smart, 

 Which strikes deep in your wounded and sorrow- 

 ful heart. 



