168 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



What intenseness of desire 



In her upward eye of fire ! 



With a tiger leap half way, 



Now she meets the coming prey, 



Lets it go as fast, and then 



Has it in her power again. 



Now she works with three or four, 



Like an Indian conjurer ; 



Quick as he in feats of art, 



Far beyond in joy of heart. 



Were her antics played in the eye 



Of a thousand standers-by, 



Clapping hands with shout and stare, 



What would little Tabby care 



For the plaudits of the crowd ? 



Over happy to be proud ; 



Over wealthy in the treasure 



Of her own exceeding pleasure.&quot; 



Little Tabby was an arrant hussy to so shame 

 lessly deceive a great poet ; but when any living 

 creature contrives to look as supernaturally inno 

 cent as a kitten, we had best remember &quot; L Ecole 

 des Femmes,&quot; and be sure qu die fait I Agues. 



For Pussy at her very best, we must still turn 

 to homely hearths where her place is held sacred, 

 where her labours warrant her welcome, where her 

 sleepy ease suggests comfort, and her beauty gives 

 an indescribable touch of distinction to all her plain 

 surroundings. It is in such a humdrum song as 

 that of Auld Bawthren in the chimney-corner that 

 we see the domestic sweetness of the cat. 



