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248 distance from the house to greet me. She lived on the most friendly terms with my dogs, but had a special pique against a parrot which swung on an iron perch a couple of feet from the floor of the veranda, just where Jenny preferred taking her afternoon nap. The bird, usually silent at the hour when in tropical lands all creatures are exhausted by the heat, was sometimes perversely loquacious; and the cat’s annoyance on such occasions was extremely diverting. Twice I myself saw her, after turning uneasily and watching him for a time with gleaming eyes, rush swiftly at the noisy wretch and give him, with her paw, a spiteful buffet that knocked him off his perch, as a hint that his prattle was disagreeable and out of season; and in both instances, after a shrill shriek of surprise and indignation, the discomfited bird relapsed into gloomy silence for the rest of the day. If I whistled an air to her, Jenny would leap on my knee, gaze intently at me, and express her delight by a soft cooing murmur. This dear creature, of whom I never think without a sigh, was lost overboard by night in the Ganges.

When residing in a wild American region, some years afterwards, I was in the habit of visiting a neighbour dwelling some three miles away, and leaving my cabin to the care of a cat. One evening Tab was not visible when I was about to go, and I departed leaving the door ajar for her—she subsequently acquired a knack of opening it by springing at the latch. When I had nearly traversed the forest intervening between the two houses, a rustling in the fallen leaves made me start and turn round; but, instead of the panther which I fancied was tracking me, I saw my poor Tab almost exhausted by strenuous efforts to overtake me. She slipped out and hid herself thus several days in succession in order to follow me when I was fairly on the road; and, whether she was actuated by affection or aversion to solitude, I henceforth called her to accompany me whenever I went forth. She would leap on my lap when I whistled to her, but had an unpleasant fashion of patting me on the mouth which I construed into disapproval of my efforts to amuse her. On leaving the place I reluctantly consigned her to my neighbour’s care.

My present favourite, Tootee, is the prettiest of a litter presented to me four years ago by her mother, who implored my patronage of them by bringing them up from her retreat in the kitchen, and laying them at my feet. She early learnt to recognise a summons in a snap of my fingers, and the headlong rush of the entire feline family up the stairs on hearing this signal was extremely ludicrous. Though the confinement of a great city is very unfavourable to its development, the intelligence of Tootee is singular. She likes to accompany me into the garden and to run after a ball, and when younger, frequently brought it to me in her mouth. She is in the habit of putting her paws on my shoulders, licking my face, and nibbling at my nose,—a strange trick which I discourage,—and is very partial to my shoulder as a seat. Having discovered that, from some defect in the lock, my bed-room door may be opened by pushing it, she springs at it repeatedly in order to overcome by her weight the slight resistance of the bolt. When desirous of leaving the room she stands erect on her hind legs, and paws at the handle of the door as if conscious that it is necessary to act upon that in order to open the door. Should we go into the country or to the seaside, after exploring every nook of our temporary home and ascertaining what rooms are mine, she never intrudes elsewhere, being very diffident of strangers. Packing she understands to portend a move, becomes then unquiet, and wanders up and down the house mournfully as if bidding farewell to familiar objects; but, once established in a new place, she accommodates herself to necessity, and evinces no disposition to ramble. She is averse to solitude, and piteously remonstrates against being left alone; she distinguishes my knock from others, and generally comes to the door to welcome me; if her name is mentioned in conversation she pricks up her ears, and if directly spoken to usually replies by a gentle prut as eloquent as words. A cushion has been appropriated to her private use, and she evinces her apprehension of its being her property by sharpening her claws on no other object, by her uneasiness when it is used by any one, and by immediately resuming possession of it when relinquished to her. Only once was she so forgetful of her duty as to help herself to anything on the table in my absence. If not immediately attended to at meals, she drums impatiently on my arm, and having thus reminded me of her presence, composes herself to wait for a time. If still neglected she leaps on her mistress’ lap or shoulders, tries gently to intercept what she is raising to her mouth, and if permitted, will take it daintily from her lips. She never scratches or betrays the least bad temper, permitting herself to be handled roughly without resisting, and remonstrating merely by a soft mew.

I have been beguiled into these domestic reminiscences by a belief that the faults of puss, like those of women, are chiefly due to the injudicious way in which she is ordinarily treated by men. The faculties of the dog are developed by regular food, freedom, kindness, and association in our daily amusements. The cat is restricted to the house, stoned if she leaves it, fed scantily or not at all, despised as a household drudge, a forlorn Cinderella—but for whom, however, we should be over-run by vermin—abandoned to the caprices of children, and made occasionally the subject of cruel scientific experiments. We ill-treat her and yet inveigh against her want of affection; we dine on mutton and reproach her with her carnivorous instinct; we frequently resent even a kindness, and are shocked at her promptness to avenge a wrong. I confess that I rejoice to hear the howl of lamentation that follows the scratch she has inflicted on the vicious child whose daily amusement is tormenting her; for it is not well, because parents are injudicious, that cruelty and lack of consideration for the sufferings of our fellow-creatures should pass unpunished. The alleged unsociability of puss is contradicted by the numerous instances wherein she has dwelt on amicable terms with other animals. At Lucerne, several centuries ago, a cat, dog, bird, and mouse fed daily from the same plate; and two cats are now to be seen in the Zoological Gardens dwelling in harmony