196 THE IDYL OF AN EMPTY LOT. 



" Think of the beautiful gliding fomi, 

 The tread that would scarcely crush a worm, 

 And the soothing song by the winter fire 

 Soft as the dying throb of the lyre." 



Yes, the cats, whose ways are ever the unex- 

 pected, and of whom I am so fond that one of 

 the most touching objects unearthed at Pompeii 

 — to me — is the skeleton of a woman holding 

 in her arms the skeleton of a cat, whom perhaps 

 she gave her life to save. 



The builder of the fences at the back of this 

 Cat's Eden very considerately capped them all 

 with a board three inches wide, thus making a 

 highway for the feline race, not only across the 

 back, but from that to each house door. On 

 this private path, above the heads of boys and 

 dogs, they spent much time. This was their 

 Broadway, and at the same time their point of 

 outlook, where they might survey the landscape 

 and decide when and where to enter their se- 

 cluded domain. How admirable the facility 

 with which these mysterious beasts pass up or 

 down high fences ! Ladders or stairs are super- 

 fluous. How can one possibly walk several steps 

 down a perpendicular board without falling head- 

 long to the ground ? And still more strange, — 

 how can one leap squarely against the same 

 fence, and run right up to the top ? 



Soon after breakfast on every fair day the 



