
234 
KIDD'S OWN JOURNAL. 

of yore. Few can boast of more amiable, 
loving feathered visitors, than we. Our live- 
stock is indeed all well, and hearty. Pleasing 
anecdotes of some of them will ooze out 
anon. 
As for our canaries, only let them 
see the blaze of a bright coal fre—we 
taught them this!—and let them hear the 
preparations for tea! The finely-polished 
kettle may “‘try’”’ to sing after this, but its 
voice will quickly be silenced—nay, drowned 
by “the opposition.” Vain is it for “ Maria” 
to ery “ H-u-s-h!” She no sooner re-enters 
with those muffins, those Sally Lunns, and 
that nice, brown, buttered toast, than she is 
saluted by a chorus of voices which will not 
be put down. Still, ‘‘ Maria’ loves those 
birds; and so do we. 
And Winter is only just beginning! Oh, 
the joys of a social chat by a cheerful fire- 
side—surrounded by all that the heart holds 
dear ! 
It has' begun. We care not how long it 
lasts. We can well afford to be laughed at 
for being “a domestic fool.” Nobody will 
dare to call us “ fashionable,” at all events ! 

AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A DOG.—No. XVIII. 
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
(Continued from Page 170.) 

T am writina, my dearest—best of Editors, in 
somewhat of a grumpy mood. I wish you were 
near me, to “ assist’ me, in quaffing a glass of that 
ale which you [Be quiet, Fino—fie !|—Mais 
n'importe; 1 know you will come down again, as 
soon as the public will let you. Like me, you are, 
know, a public character, and must work; and 
what weather too for one to bear up against ! 
How very unsteady is the climate of this country! 
No two daysare alike. Nay, we have had scarcely 
two hours alike in the same day, all this summer. 
It is really very disagreeable, and certainly very 
trying to the health of both man and dog. It 
happens most fortunately that I am extremely 
fond of water; and am just as much at home in 
that element as any fish that ever swam. Most 
luckily too, that Ido not live very far from the 
River Lea. Otherwise, I am certain I could not 
bear these sudden changes. Sometimes so hot 
am I, that I am ready to scratch every scrap of 
hair off my body; and the very same evening, 
may be, so chilly that I am glad to sneak up stairs, 
and appropriate to myself a corner in the first bed- 
room I findopen. Here I curl myself round, and 
endeavor to imitate, as much as possible, my 
black godson. 
Sure Tam, the difference of temperature within 
twenty-four hours is much more considerable in 
this country than in my own. There is not often 
during the summer months, in my country, a dif- 
ference of more than from one to three degrees in 
the twenty-four hours. Of course during the winter 
(trom the commencement of January to the middle 
of March)the difference is sometimes enormous. In 
July and August the thermometer ranges from 783 

to 81; and occasionally but rarely, to 83; and this 
day after day, in the shade. About the commence- 
ment of February, it generally marks from about 
19 to 27. I have felt it as low as 64, and that for 
several successive mornings; reaching 20 to 23 
about two o’clock,and then gradually sinking to the 
old point. Did I not, at this period, enjoy stretch- 
ing my old carcase before the blazing, crackling log 
in the drawing-room! Did I not delight to hear 
old Bombyx say—‘“ It really is too cold for these 
dogs to be turned out!” And when, about half- 
past ten o’clock, the whistling summons for us to 
turn out, was answered by a good-tempered word 
from my old master—‘ Oh, it is intensely cold ; 
let the dogs rest quietly in the passage to-night,” 
how gratefully we both wagged our tails, and 
enjoyed an extra stretch before the blaze, whilst 
our old master would discuss a glass of “eau de 
cerise’”’ and hot water, and concoct plans both for 
winter and summer campaigns! 
It was on one of these winter evenings, that I 
heard him say he had seen two specimens of 
“Parnassus Apollo,” which were taken close by 
“Lasarraz,’”’ an inconsiderable village in the canton 
of Vaud, about 15 miles north-west of Lausanne, 
and he declared his intention of visiting this spot 
at the proper season in the following year. We 
both wagged our tails in approbation and antici- 
pation of a famous run. It was in the middle of 
the following August, when, taking our usual posi- 
tion on the top of our little summer-house, we saw 
Bombyx and the Music-master very earnestly dis- 
cussing matters of deep importance. Tirst, ex- 
amining the ‘‘ Dent d’Oche,” then the “ Fort de 
l’Ecluse.” 
“Recht hubsch!” cries the German. “Su- 
perbe!” echoes Bombyx; and the German servant 
was summoned ; orders were given for to-morrow, 
and an early supper requested. The German was 
off directly into the town, to make the needful 
preparations for the morning ; and be sure we fol- 
lowed him closely. 
The next day was to decide the question of our 
having the good fortune to meet with “Apollo” at 
“ Lasarraz”’ or not. This is by no means an un- 
common insect on the top of the *‘ Grand Saleve,”’ 
“les Voirons,’”’ and the “ Mole,” &c., &c., near 
Geneva. But on the north of the lake it is cer- 
tainly rare—very rare. Moreover, it was more 
than a dozen years previous that it was said these 
specimens were taken. ‘There seemed no reason 
to doubt the fact, and so a good roomy carriage 
was well packed; for we were determined to have 
a few days’ fun, even though our sport should 
lack. 
All went on merry enough, and we journeyed on 
pretty quickly as far as Romanel. I got ensconced 
under the seat of the German, and enjoyed a 
good sleep, being protected from the heat of 
the sun; for although we started at seven, it was 
already very hot indeed. From Romanel_ to 
Boussens, it was hard work,—all up hill. Here 
we were obliged to stop and refresh our steeds and 
ourselves. From thence to Lasarraz, it was a ter- 
rible job; hot and dusty, and the really burning 
particles of sand blowing in your face, were any- 
thing but amusing. We at length reached the 
‘““Hitoile,” a snug, comfortable, small, but clean 
hotel, in the middle of the village. This was about 
11 o’clock. We had a hasty snap of bread and 


