THE STUDY OF NATURE. 



37 



a beautiful spectacle; all the grimalkins, in furred 

 dignity, sitting majestically under the chairs of their 

 young masters. One alone was missing from the 

 circle — a poor wretch, too ugly to figure among the 

 others ; he knew his unworthiness, and lield himself 

 aloof, in a wild timidity which nothing was able to 

 conquer. As in every assembly (such is the piteous 

 malignity of our nature!) there must be a butt, a scape- 

 goat, who receives all the blows, he, in ours, filled this 

 unthankful role. If there were no blows, at least there 

 were abundant mockeries : we named him Moquo. Weak, 

 and scantily provided with fnr, he stood in more need 

 than the others of the genial hearth; but we children 

 filled him with fear: even his comrades, better clothed 

 in their warm ermine, appeared to esteem him but 

 lightly, and to look at him askant. Of course, there- 

 fore, my father turned to him, and fondled him; the 

 grateful animal lay down under that beloved hand, 

 and gained confidence. Wrapped up in his coat, and 

 revived by its warmth, he would frequently be brought, 

 unseen, to the fireside. We quickly caught sight of him; 

 and if he showed a hair, or the tip of an ear, our laughter 

 and our glances threatened him, in spite of my father. 

 I can still see that shadow gathering itself up — inelt- 

 ing, so to speak — in its protector's bosom, closing its 

 eyes, annihilating itself, weU content to see nothing. 



"All that I have read of the Hindus, and tlieir 

 tenderness for nature, reminds me of my father. He 

 was a Brahmin. More even than the Brahmins did 

 he love every living thing. He had lived in a time 

 of blood and war — he had been an eye-witness of the 



