156 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



That sound scholar and true lover of animals, 

 Archbishop Whately, he who &quot; ignored metaphysics 

 and minimized theology,&quot; was wont to say that only 

 one English noun had a true vocative case. &quot; Nomi 

 native, cat. Vocative, Puss.&quot; And it is a happy cir 

 cumstance which gives us this soft and pretty appel 

 lation, this endearing diminutive, so well suited to 

 the little animal it summons. The French are less 

 fortunate, and all their loving efforts to provide the 

 cat with a permanent vocative serve only to show 

 the greater fitness and sweetness of the English 

 word ; in frank recognition of which superiority, 

 M. Taine drops Moumoutte and Mimi, and fits 

 &quot; Puss &quot; prettily into his loving tribute of verse. 



&quot; Le plaisir, comme il vient ; la douleur, s il le faut, 

 fuss, vous acceptez tout, et le soleil la-haut, 

 Quand il finit son tour dans 1 immensite bleue, 

 Vous voit, couchee en circle, au soir comme au matin, 

 Heureuse sans effort, resignee au destin, 

 Lisser nonchalamment les poils de votre queue.&quot; 



We could ill spare this ancient patronymic, since 

 a somewhat ponderous Saxon humour is wont to 

 wax sportive over the naming of cats. Instead 

 of studying simplicity, as in Hodge and Hinse, or 

 grace, as in Selima and Fatima, on such points 

 Walpole could not go astray, we find too often 

 either sheer stupidity, like Canon Liddon s Tweedle 

 dum and Tweedledee, or the fantastic foolishness 



