
KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 
Playfulness of a Oat and Dog.—A few days 
ago, at the house of a near relative, I witnessed a 
very pretty and interesting scene. He has a 
beautiful little spaniel dog, of the King Charles’ 
breed, ’yclept “Mr. Hoppy.” His lady has a 
fine tabby cat, “ Mrs. Toodles” by name. This 
funny pair began their games shortly after my 
arrival, and continued, at intervals, during the 
whole afternvon and evening. Never did I see 
cat and dog so thoroughly enjoy themselves ! 
‘“‘Hoppy” sprang upon “oodles.” T. caught 
him by the neck and floored him. Then the 
scene was reversed,—T. being down. Now a 
regular wrestling; and both down together. Up 
again. Roll over each other. H. making a 
spring at T.’s tail, finds her too quick for bim, 
and is himself caught by his own brush. T. 
takes up her position,with her back to the fender ; 
and as H. makes his spring, he is thrown by T. 
H. now takes the exactly opposite position tu T., 
and then the four paws of each move with won- 
derful rapidity. The most perfect good-humor 
prevails. . “ Toodles” never lets her claws be seen. 
No angry growl. No snarling nor barking. Such 
thorough good-temper I never before witnessed 
between cat and dog. I was so much interested 
in this charming scene, that I determined to beg 
a little corner in Our Journat to register the 
simple facts. Let me hope that others beside 
the feline race may take a hint from what is 
here recorded.—Bompyx Aruas, Tottenham. 

Trufiles.—The cultivation of the truffle, so long 
deemed an impossibility, has at length, says the 
“ Bath Chronicle,” been accomplished. The dis- 
covery was made at Macon, where Madame 
Nagel, proprietress of a chateau in the neighbor- 
hood, has, this autumn, succeeded in producing a 
large number of truffles in her garden. All the 
conditions under which the cultivation of this 
product must be prosecuted are known, and 
nothing more is required than to improve and 
perfect them by experiment. The Macon “ Hor- 
ticultural Journal” says :—‘ Like other crypto- 
gamic plants of the same family, truffles are 
parasites, requiring humus of a special character. 
For example, a sub-stratum of chesnut or oak 
leaves, mixed with an argillo-calcareous soil, is 
just as necessary to them as a bed of horse-dung 
to the common mushroom. We are satisfied that 
if this new branch of culture were seriously 
studied, the production of the truffle would be 
easy and profitable—F. W., Clapham. 

Table-Turning, &c.—Have you seen the very 
ridiculous—nay, something worse—pamphlet by 
the Rey. Mr. Disp, trying to prove that the 
spirit of the Prince of Darkness “ animates” the 
legs of tables, &c., causing the said legs to 
“answer” correctly any question,—lawful or 
otherwise —that may be put to them? Do read 
it—if you have not already done so; and tell the 
public what you think of it.—W. R., Richmond. 
[We have read this inflated,—this disgusting 
pamphlet (as it not blasphemous?), and consider 
it the production of a man of unsound mind. His 
friends should look to him at once. We have for 
years been of opinion that his intellect was 
“weak.” We have talked to him face to face ere 
now, and can only come to one charitable con- 


373 
clusion,—he is very far “gone.” The Rev. F. 
Close, of Cheltenham, has just fallen foul of this 
strange, uncouth man,—“‘finishing’” him, and 
four other ‘gentlemen in black,” in the most 
masterly style (see the pamphlet called “ The 
Testers Tested.”) How the Christian religion does 
suffer by the ordination of such ‘‘ daft”? men,—and 
how very many silly fools run after them !] 

The Robin a * sympathising ”’ Bird.—Perhaps 
some of your poetical correspondents may think 
the following simple incident worthy of notice, 
and marry it to “immortal verse.”” Some time 
since, the funeral of an aged and most respected 
lady took place in the beautiful neighborhood of 
Dunster. Amongst the “ followers” was a robin, 
who took an active part in the ceremonies by 
singing during the eniire service. His seat was 
on a spray close by the grave. The old lady had 
expressed a wish to be buried in the autumn ; and 
it is a touching coincidence that her requiem 
should have been chanted by autumn’s sole cho- 
rister. Let me add—the clergyman who officiated 
was much affected by this accompaniment of the 
church’s rites.—PuiLocyon, Braintree. 

Consumption of Ardent Spirits.— A curious 
calculation is made by Mr. Thomas George 
Shaw, of 25, Old Bond Street, relative to the 
quantity of spirits consumed in England, Ireland, 
and Scotland, in 1849. After giving the number 
of gallons used in each country, he says—‘‘ It is 
here shown, that the consumption was 28,246,987 
gallons—yielding a revenue of £8,557,399. If this 
is divided among the whole population, it gives 
about one gallon to every man, woman, and child; 
but taking only the adult males, the proportions 
used in England, Ireland, and Scotland (exclusive 
of all that is smuggled and illegally made), proves 
that an Englishman drank in that year 214 
gallons ; an Irishman 32; anda Scotchman, 11.” 
[We are happy to say that the Englishman is 
not now quite such a beast. The Scotchman far, 
very far exceeds him in bestiality ; as the more 
recent “returns” show. Glasgow, in particular,— 
where people are “* shut up” on Sundays—wallows 
in liquor.] 
Instinct of the House-Marten.—I was residing 
with my family, during the summer of 1849, in 
the village of Sutton, three miles from Hull. My 
dwelling was a neat rustic cottage on t!ie outskirts 
of the village, with latticed windows in the bed- 
chamber. Here a pair of martens commenced 
building their nest; and so near to the window 
that I could see into it. As I never interfered 
with the birds beyond looking out of the window 
and watching their operations, they soon became 
familiarised to my presence; and they permitted 
me to look on until their habitation was com- 
pleted. Just previous to this, I was startled one 
morning, as early as 4 o’clock, by some unusual 
noises proceeding from my little friends. Feeling 
curious, I rose to ascertain what was amiss. I 
then found that forcible possession had been taken 
of the nest by a house-sparrow( Passer domesticus ), 
who, snugly ensconced in his citadel of mud, was 
beating off his enemies vigorously! There was 
quite a war of words, as well as a pitched battle, 
and the sparrow at last wore out his pursuers. 

