KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 

cheese; ordered a jolly good dinner at five; and 
determined (if our hunt should prove prosperous) 
Perryer’s best should not fail. 
Not knowing anything of the locality, after a 
little consultation we agreed to divide our party. 
Bombyx and the Music-master were to conduct 
one half to the right of the village; the German 
and the other haif taking to the left. We then 
agreed to return at a quarter before five o’clock. 
Bebi, the postilion, must, of course, amuse himself 
by joining the German’s party. 
Well, I, of course, followed my old master. We 
scrambled among the rocks, and every patch of sand 
was scanned with the greatest anxiety. Hvery 
butterfly that approached us was obliged to show 
his passport. Wherever the Sedum Album, or 
Sedum Telephium, were perceived, the neighbor- 
hood was watched with the eyes of a lynx. 
Numerous captures were made, but, alas! no 
Apollo! At length Musicus exclaimed that :— 
“Es bleibt uns blos funf Minuten, sonst wer- 
den wir zu spat fur mittagessen.” 
“Ich glaube wohl Herr K—,” replied Bombyx, 
“wir bekommen gar nichts.” 
‘* Allons zu hause, vielleicht Morgen gehts 
besser,—allons.” 
And so we returned to our hotel, much de- 
lighted with our day’s trip ; but rather ‘ capot ” 
at our day’s sport, for we had seen nothing in 
the shape of an Apollo. Just as we arrived 
before the door of the hotel, we perceived the other 
division of our party arriving, and they answered 
our anxious inquiries also in the negative. Well, 
it could not be helped ; so we sat down to our 
delicious soup and exquisite trout, capital cut- 
lets, and roast ducks; accompanied by several 
other nice little morceawx—ior it luckily happened 
that mine hostess was a first-rate cuisiniére. 
Just before the ducks were introduced, there 
was an unusual smile on the frontispiece of the 
Musicus, and “‘ Superbe vortrefflich ” escaped him. 
At length, looking right at Bombyx, who was 
laughing at him and the young ones (they were all 
im the joke, but Bombyx was fairly caught), he 
claimed the promise of Perryer’s best ; and suiting 
the action to the word, rung the bell. In came 
the German with two bottles of ‘ CHil de per- 
drix ” under his arm, followed by the waiter with 
the long glasses ; whilst Herr K— produced two of 
the finest Apollos ever seen, fresh as a daisy, and 
the largest Bombyx ever saw. They are, to this 
hour, the first in his collection, in point of size. 
The German had been lucky. He had caught 
one, and one of the youngsters the other. And 
here let me observe that “Apollo” flies heavily 
and slowly, and rarely above four feet from the 
surface of the ground. No-more than these were 
seen; nay, though we returned more than once, 
we only found one single injured one. 
Need I say with what glee the “ Apollo of 
iuasarraz’’ was drunk? ‘Whey all seemed s0 
delighted, that I really think I could have emptied 
a glass of “Cail de perdrix” myself. An old 
“Clavecin” (dignified by mine hostess with the 
appellation of ‘‘Un beau Piano,” producing a 
sound something between that of a tin rattle and 
hurdy-gurdy), happened to be in our apartment; 
and this instrument, under the magic touch of 
Musicus, caused us to spend a very merry evening. 
- Ina sweetly pretty garden behind the hotel, 




we found a Bahia, and a glass of cold punch—not 
to he sneezed at. We slept as sound as a hum- 
ming-top; although our hotel was none of the 
quietest. Next morning, after a breakfast of 
capital coffee and fresh eggs, we started at seven, 
and went slowly towards Orbe. Here let me 
advise all travellers to ask for coffee for breakfast. 
In the small towns in Switzerland, you generally 
get that very good indeed; and it is very well 
made. But the tea ig wretched stuff, excepting in 
the large towns. 
At Orbe we ordered a nice dinner at the 
** Guillaume Tell; ” and then amused ourselves by 
strolling about the environs of this singular old- 
fashioned town. Here let me tell you, Mr. Editor, 
that the heat about twelve o’clock is almost un- 
bearable. Fortunately, there are plenty of foun- 
tains of beautiful water, and they are cold as ice. 
Did not I enjoy this! Hgad, you are almost 
grilled if you only walk across the street! So, 
from twelve till four, we generally find the good 
people duriag summer confine themselves as much 
as possible at home. 
The views from every spot surrounding this 
small town, whether you turn your eyes east, west, 
north, or south, are equally lovely and “ grandiose,” 
varying at almost every dozen yards you move. 
The beautiful single-arched bridge over the River 
Orbe, (the river bears the same name as the town), 
is alone worth a visit. I went both under and 
over it. As you stand on the south-east side and 
look through the arch at the lofty mountaims in 
the distance in the north-westerly direction—the 
view is indeed most striking andenchanting. At 
Orbe you get capital fish and some splendid fruit. 
Itis, however, arather out-of-the-way town, and I 
believe the cold is nearly as intense (in propor- 
tion) in winter, as the heat is in summer. 
The position of the town is beyond all attempt 
at description. It would quite baffle the organ of 
description in any dog; nay, in almost any human 
being. There are certain places and positions, you 
know, which can neither be portrayed by the poet, 
nor the painter. Now, although I “dabble” a 
little in each, I shall not attempt to describe that 
which, to be appreciated, must be seen by the 
eye, and felt by the heart. I am convinced that 
any attempt, whilst occupying too much of your 
space, would, at the same time, be a complete 
failure. 
The next morning we started as usual, early, for 
Yverdun, and took up our quarters at the “‘ Maison 
Rouge.” Yverdun is a very neat, clean, little 
town, bordering on the south-western extremity of 
the Lake of Neufchatel, but there is a vast dif- 
ference in the temperature of Neufchatel and 
Orbe. Here mine host treated us most luxuriously, 
especially with his ‘‘ Brochet”” and “ Saucisse.” 
The latter I did most thoroughly enjoy; and I 
was not sorry to see Bombyx purchase a good pro- 
vision of them, as I was sure to get a taste at 
breakfast. 
Leaving Yverdun next morning, we took a dif- 
ferent direction home, and reached Moudon in time 
for dinner. We stopped at the Cerfe; and, do 
you know, before you could turn round, you had a 
dinner put before you fit for the “ Emperor of all 
the Russias” (better, I guess, than he'll get in 
Wellachia!). This hotel is an immense, old- 
fashioned building, with every accommodation you 

—$ $$ 
