KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
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AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A DOG—No. XVI. 
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
(Continued from Page 41.) 
Ir HAS BEEN HOT AND HARD WORK, my dear 
Mr. Editor, to collect my thoughts and arrange 
my papers this month. But the public eye 1s on 
me; and I, like yourself, must go through what I 
have undertaken to perform. So now for my pen 
and ink. I am sitting on the very chair you sat 
on, when last we met. I love that chair! [And 
we love you, too, dear Frno !] : 
I have very often introduced to your notice my 
venerable friend, the “ Grandpapa des Papillons,” 
and I suspect, at the great age he reached before 
he was gathered to his fathers (nearly fourscore 
and four years), he was, perhaps, justly entitled 
to be sonamed among entomologists in Switzerland. 
This aged gentleman was equally well-known by 
the name of the “ Vieux Siléne” (Satyrus circé). 
His collection of insects was rich indeed, and I 
think I have heard Bombyx Atlas say that it is 
now the property of his grandson. Should he go 
on perfecting it with the zeal which so distin- 
guished his grandfather, what a collection of 
rarities this will in time become ! 
Do you know, Mr. Editor, there is one single 
spider worth travelling a hundred miles to see! 
Bombyx has got a fellow that strides upwards of 
eight inches, (a neat creature this to catch a blue- 
bottle!) and, oh, if you could but behold old 
grandpapa’s pet! IJ ne-ver! 
However, my object now is to portray to your 
mind’s eye the great lion of entomologists—at least 
so I think him, Mr. Editor. I have heard old 
grandpapa mention him as the greatest entomolo- 
gist that ever lived; and he was no bad judge. 
One must know something about insects before 
one equals the old grandpapa; and yet the other 
was a giant even compared to him, albeit he was 
originally his pupil to a certain extent. 
It was delicate health that, in the first instance, 
compelled this great man to quit a continental 
city, his birthplace; and that induced him to 
settle in a little village in the most lovely and 
wildest part of the most lovely and wildest country ; 
his sole object being then, the restoration of his 
health. During his “ strolling dabbles,” he would 
watch the motions of various insects ; catch butter- 
flies; and, after a while, bring up caterpillars. 
Here the right chord of his giant mind was struck, 
and he finished by purchasing the residence he 
now occupies, devoting himself to entomology. 
How many years ago he first became acquainted 
with the “Grandpapa des Papillons” I know not, 
but he must have been his junior by some sixteen 
or seventeen years—consequently must now be 
hovering upon the verge of some threescore years 
and ten. 
Well, it was a splendid autumnal evening, when 
the departing sun was gloriously illumining the 
lofty summit of the “ Dent de Borée,” ‘ Dent 
d’Oche,” the “ Autan”’ &c., &c. The deep blue 
lake was as calm as a mirror, and reflected on its 
limpid surface the grand chain of the mountains 
of Savoy. ‘“ Bombyx” was in his little garden, 
discussing a “bahia,” and enjoying the glories 
of the splendid evening. 
Myself and my brother were at our usual corner, 
on the top of the garden-wall; when I presently 
saw Carlo wag his rude old tail (not such a gentle- 
man-like appendage as mine, Mr. Editor), in token 
of welcome, and of course I did the same. Look- 
ing up to see who it was that was so cordially 
greeted, I instantly perceived the old “ grand- 
papa,” and a step or two behind, we observed an 
elderly man, whom I put down as an impertinent - 
intruder, annoying old grandpapa; accordingly. 
I gave a significant growl to warn him off, and 
Carlo began to bark and show his teeth. Still 
they both advanced up the avenue. At last they 
both halted for a short time, and talking rather 
loudly, I thought they were quarrelling. Now, as 
we had a great veneration for the old grandpapa, 
we both leapt off the wall, determined to brush 
this intruder off in double-quick time, and so rid 
our aged friend of this supposed nuisance. 
Judge of our surprise. When we arrived they 
were both enjoying our mistake! “Qu’est ce 
qu'il y a donc, mes amis?” ejaculated the old 
grandpapa. “Le Bombyx, est il chez lui?” 
‘Was ist, mein liebe freund? Was ist mein 
liebe Fino?” said the elderly gentleman (where 
he heard my name I am quite at a loss to guess), 
with a most significant smile, and a peculiar twitch 
of the chin I never saw before. 
The noise brought the German servant to the 
door, and he, falling into the same mistake as 
ourselves, halloed out ‘Hi Du Schlimmer Spitz- 
bube wollen sie oder wollen fie nicht fort.” 
Upon this, there was an out-and-out laugh 
between the “‘ Vieux Siléne” and his companion. 
At length they reached the garden,—the aged 
“‘Grandpapa’”’ calling out “ Bon soir, cher Bombyx. 
Bon soir, mon cher vieux Siléne! As tu quelque 
chose de bon pour souper, Bombyx? Ah que si. 
Je viens souper avec vous mes amis, et je vous 
améne Monsieur W , le roy des entomologistes, 
—décidément le premier entomologiste d’Europe. 
Il part pour Berne demain 4 six heures, et nous 
allons jouir de sa brave sociecté ce soir.” Sur cela 
Bombyx lui donne un welcome, worthy of the 
great man, and of his kind old friend. 
No sooner did I hear the name mentioned than 
I smelt a rat; for I had often heard grandpapa 
name him with a species of enthusiasm. But I 
certainly was not prepared for such a singular 
exterior. However, our intruder (as we took him 
to be) was soon laughing and joking with Bombyx 
and the “‘ vieux Silene.” <A bottle of “ Perrier’s” 
best sparkling was now brought up, and the 
German servant was despatched to the town to 
get something peculiarly “ piquant’ for the 
“vieux Silene” and his companion, grumbling as 
he went along, “‘ Was ist das fur ein kerl ?” 
This extraordinary man, Mr. Editor, as I have 
already observed, must be rapidly approaching 
threescore years and ten, and about five feet ten 
inches high ; moderately stout and thick-set, with 
a bald high forehead, and rather a sallow com- 
plexion, although a certain unmistakeable ruddy 
appearance denotes him a man capable of great 
exertion, and of undergoing great fatigue. A 
most remarkably expressive countenance was his, 
and a fine full hazel eye. He had grey hair, and 
a grey beard, which is nearly silvery under the 
chin. most peculiar smile, too, was his; and 
when particularly pleased, he utters an almost 
involuntary “‘ya—ya,” which speaks volumes. 
Talk to him of “Sphinx alecto,” ‘“ Lasiocampa | 
Dryophaga.” “Ya, ya. Das is gui,” he will 




