THE CAT TO-DAY 239 



little waif who sought shelter by her comfortable 

 hearth. 



&quot; A very pretty cat intruded herself on us this 

 evening. We did not make her welcome at first, 

 but she seemed to insist on staying. Sally then 

 gave her milk, and very soon after she caught a 

 poor little mouse ; and she is now lying on the cor 

 ner of my apron by ye fireside, as familiarly as if 

 she had lived with us for seven years.&quot; 



It is pleasant to hear the kind-hearted Quakeress 

 say &quot; poor little mouse;&quot; for the unconcern with 

 which most of us view the death agony of a mouse 

 contrasts strangely with our sentimental outpour 

 ings over a murdered bird. The mouse might say 

 with Shylock, &quot; If you prick us, do we not bleed ? &quot; 

 and feel with Shylock that no one heeds the 

 shedding of such blood. But, for the slaughter 

 of a bird, there is a different cry. Does not even 

 that sweet saint, Eugenie de Guerin, bewail in no 

 gentle words in the most ungentle words her 

 journal holds such a calamity ? 



&quot; I am furious with the grey cat. The wicked 

 creature has just robbed me of a young pigeon that 

 I was warming by the fire. The poor little thing 

 was beginning to revive ; I had meant to tame it ; 

 it would have grown fond of me ; and now all this 

 ends in its getting crunched up by a cat. What 

 disappointments there are in life ! &quot; 



