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296 
AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A DOG—No. XIX. 
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 
(Continued from Page 236.) 

I srr pown To-pay, my dear friend, with quite 
a light heart—your visit to us has done me so 
much good! To see you enjoy yourself as you 
did, and come out so truly “jolly,”—is it ‘not 
infectious ? I have been singing (in my way), 
ever since you left us ; and your parting song, “Pop 
goes [Fino,—he quiet !] the Weasel,” and its 
variations, has fairly doubled me up. Touching 
that sparkling ale, and that cigar (a Regalia)—I 
will “say” nothing; but you really are a funny 
fellow. You make even a dog merry! This by 
the way ; and now to business. I am sitting on 
the chair yow used, and am writing with a gold 
pen. 
It was about the month of October, some years 
ago, that a very curious scene took place at our 
old residence at Cour. I really fancy I can see 
the whole occurrence over again. So droll is it 
that I really must record it, pro bono. The 
weather was very different there to what it has 
been lately here. Until you came amongst us, I 
had some trouble to keep up my spirits. I really 
believe if we have much more miserable, rainy, 
drizzly weather, I shall positively die of ennut. 
I have not been able to put my nose out of doors 
even for a few moments, just to get a mouthful of 
fresh air (so necessary to the healthful existence 
of both man and dog), without its being bespangled 
with little rainy globules, like the dew on a sprig 
of myrtle. This may be all very pretty to look 
at, but it is very disagreeable to feel. Ihave not 
yet become a convert to the fancies of the man- 
monkey—nor dog-monkey either. Otherwise I 
should not be able to sniff in a bubble of fresh air 
during the whole day, without having my mous- 
tachioes converted by the soaking rain into some- 
thing like a mass of soft silk. This would have a 
very un-dog like appearance ; and you know, my 
dear friend, I am rather proud of my personnel. 
Parading about the garden is all very well for 
lanky, light greyhounds; but for a dog with any- 
thing like a corporation to carry about with him, 
It 1s out of the question. I should sink in about 
three inches, each time I put a foot off the gravel 
path ; and then, only think what a bother after- 
wards to rub my coat in comfortable order again, 
and to polish up my dirty boots (for I have not a 
par to change), before I can go and occupy my 
favorite place,—stretched at full length before 
the parlor fire, to the exclusion of any one else 
who wishes to feel the benefit of it, as well as 
myself. 
The only creature I allow to enjoy a bit of the 
fire as well as myself, is that great black cat you 
were nursing. I have certain ‘“ good reasons” for 
this act of condescension, which I do not consider 
absolutely necessary to make public; although I 
have no objection, to tell you that the said blacky 
1s owner of some uncommonly-sharp claws. A 
powerful fellow, too, is he; and if I refused him 
my tail for his pillow, he might seize it rather 
more forcibly than I like. So, to avoida dis- 
turbance, with my usual good humor, (what a 
sweet-tempered dog I am!) I keep quiet and let 
him do as he likes. If it were any other cat, 






KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
however, my ire might be raised; and then I 
certainly would not answer for what might be the 
consequence. I have played with more than one 
cat in my life; and after hunting a cayon, I think 
hunting a cat is about the next best sport. Un- 
fortunately they have such elastic backs! They 
bound up a tree in no time, and then,—adieu! 
I have often wished Zhad such an elastic back. 
I would soon be after them, instead of being 
obliged (fox and crow fashion) to remain watching 
at the bottom of the tree until my patience is 
fairly exhausted. Often have I been obliged to 
sneak away with a sulky growl! 
This episode about the weather has almost 
made me forget what I was going to say. You 
must know that—used tothe simplicity of a country 
life as my master is, he was in the habit of 
arranging various kinds of amusements for the 
younger members of the family; and it so hap- 
pened there was a nice lawn at the back of our 
residence at Cour. Here archery, cricketing, &c., 
were daily practised. Hntre nous, I used gene- 
rally to keep at a respectable distance when these 
operations were going on—for I had no fancy to 
receive a cricket-ball on the head, or an arrow 
between the ribs; and I don’t think you would 
have liked it either. 
Well, that was not all. There was pistol 
shooting,—a regular Tir. And it was the estab- 
lishing this Z%r which caused all the hubbub I 
am going to tell you about. My old master, in 
perfect ignorance that it was necessary to have a 
legal license to fire pistols (even m his own 
garden), had marked out a perfectly-safe and 
convenient spot for this purpose, and there a 
regular target was mounted. Jean (and some- 
times his brother) was always there to declare the 
crack shots. At a short distance from this target, 
and sideways therefrom, were the large back-gates 
of the country house. These were always padlocked 
and strongly barred. They were high enough to 
prevent any one seeing over them; and being 
amusingly spiked all along the top, it was not a 
very easy matter to get in. 
Well; this shooting had gone on more or less 
for several days, and had excited the cupidity of 
a dirty, halfstarved, rural policeman. But how 
was he to know what was going forward? His 
only legal method was to ring at the front bell, 
state his suspicions, and claim his right to satisfy 
himself. If all had gone according to his wishes, 
he would have got half the fine to which Bombyx 
would have been condemned,—say about sixty 
to eighty batzen, according to circumstances 
(7s. 6d. to 10s.) 
Unluckily, in bis eagerness to handle the money, 
he overstepped his duty, threw the game into 
Bombyx’s hand, and was completely ‘check-mated. 
The great donkey! would you believe it? He 
borrowed a short ladder, put it up against the 
back-door, and raised himself sufficiently high to 
see over. He was observed, though! Quick as 
thought Bombyx whispered,—“ Keep on firing, 
and make plenty of noise.” Then slipping gently 
and quietly up to the back-gates, he removed the 
padlock, silently removed the iron bar, and (as 
he expected) my friend was soon up again, with 
his two elbows resting on the top of the gate. 
There was his pencil in one hand, and his memo- 
randum-book in the other! At this happy 






