RECOLLECTIONS OF THE CAT. 195 



for a full fortnight together, before again venturing home. 



My friend, Mr. Wood, will remember the amusement we derived from 

 some remarks made by Mr. Waterton, in reference to the temper of his Cats, 

 during our visit to Walton Hall. We were watching the movements of a 

 flock of Canadian geese, when one of the Cats stole into the drawing-room, 

 and came rubbing and purring against us. Mr. Waterton put him on the 

 chimney-piece, to let him have an opportunity of admiring his comely form 

 in the glass. The Cat seemed remarkably pleased with his elevated position, 

 but we were given to understand that it was not the favourite. ^'My other," 

 said he *^'has a most beautiful temper, which is more than I can say for 

 this gentleman." Our short stay prevented any judgment in the matter, but 

 we saw both specimens — monsters in size — and fed up like civic aldermen; 

 and, if a fit of apoplexy has not carried them off, I have no doubt but they 

 may still be found, leading a most jolly life amidst the hospitality of the 

 far-famed Walton Hall. I was once conversing with a person who, although 

 no naturalist, had been most marvellously delighted with the Waterton collection; 

 one of his first questions was "did you see the Cats, for," said he, "they 

 are regular ^pummers' and no mistake." It is no unusual thing for Cats to 

 get much attached to dogs, particularly where they have been brought up 

 together, and the pleasure they seem to derive from each other's society, in 

 a great measure refutes our ideas of "a Cat and dog life," which we find 

 can be a happy one where kindly feelings exist on both sides. An instance 

 of this was pleasingly exemplified in the attachment existing between a Cat 

 and an old pointer bitch; they would gambol together for hours, and never 

 once got across during a friendship which lasted until the dog's death. 



Some few years ago, we had an odd exhibition traversing the streets of 

 Leeds, rejoicing in the name of "The H^ppy Family;" it was a large cage 

 mounted on wheels, and well stored with a most heterogeneous mass of 

 animated nature. There hawks, owls, pigeons, blackbirds, starlings, etc., in 

 close communion with rabbits, guinea-pigs, squirrels, rats, and mice; and 

 to make the thing complete a most harmless Cat was pacing in the midst 

 of this zoological collection, to the great delight of a never-ceasing round of 

 curious spectators. It would have been a much happier family, however, 

 without the presence of a little blue-faced monkey, who was continually on 

 the stir — pinch his neighbours he would, and none got more "monkeys' 

 allowance," or bore it more quietly, than poor puss. Then up he would 

 bounce, first on to one perch then another, upsetting both hawks, owls, and 

 everything else that came in his way. I laughed heartily at his antics, but 

 could scarcely feel sorry when one of the perches gave way and precipitated 

 him into a large bowl of milk below. 



This happy family cat was very different to one whose cruelty had well 

 nigh broken the heart of one of my early school-fellows. He kept some 

 tame rabbits, which were often allowed to run within the limits, of the 

 fenced garden. One of them was preparing for a family; the poor creature 



