THE CAT TRIUiMPHANT 131 



Herrick, as might be imagined, was the first of 

 English poets to feel the charm of her presence by 

 his hearth. In that pleasant Devonshire vicarage 

 where each season brought its appropriate joys ; 

 which, in fancy, we see decked with the hawthorn 

 boughs of May, and with the holly and mistletoe of 

 Christmas tide ; where the Bride-cake and the was 

 sail-bowl, 



&quot; Spiced to the brink,&quot; 



passed cheerfully around in the glittering firelight ; 

 where the &quot; little buttery &quot; and &quot; little bin &quot; were 

 well stocked with more than pulse and water-cress ; 

 surely this sweet old manse, sunshiny, rose-cov 

 ered, cowslip-scented, was the fitting Paradise for a 

 cat. One envies the happy puss who spent her 

 days amid such pastoral plenty. 



&quot; A cat 

 I keep, that plays about my house, 



Grown fat 

 With eating many a miching mouse,&quot; 



writes Herrick when counting up his &quot; private 

 wealth ; &quot; and when he urges the pleasures of a 

 country life which none knew better than he 

 upon his town-bred brother, this is one of the allure 

 ments he has to offer : 



&quot; Yet can thy humble roof maintaine a quire 



Of singing crickets by thy fire ; 



And the brisk mouse may feast herselfe with crumbs, 

 Till that the green-eyed kitling comes.&quot; 



