THE CAT TO-DAY 281 



for cat circles into which the Empress had no en 

 tree, and who, in its own gentle fashion, is the 

 most unswervingly obstinate creature in the world. 



&quot; For wiles may win thee, but no arts enslave,&quot; 



writes Graham Tomson in praise of Le Chat Noir, 

 most honoured, if not most prized, of all the furry 

 fraternity that basked about her hearth. 



&quot; Half loving-kindliness, and half disdain, 

 Thou comest to my call, serenely suave, 

 With humming speech and gracious gesture grave, 

 In salutation courtly and urbane. 

 Yet must I humble me thy grace to gain, 

 For wiles may win thee, but no arts enslave, 

 And nowhere gladly thou abidest, save 

 Where naught disturbs the concord of thy reign. 



&quot; Sphinx of my quiet hearth ! who deignst to dwell 

 Friend of my toil, companion of mine ease, 

 Thine is the lore of Ra and Rameses ; 

 That men forget dost thou remember well, 

 Beholden still in blinking reveries, 

 With sombre, sea-green gaze inscrutable.&quot; 



There has been a great deal of modern verse, as of 

 modern prose, written about cats ; yet little, worthy 

 of its subject, and little in English that can compare 

 with the affectionate tributes of France. Shelley s 

 schoolboy doggerel is unworthy of consideration, 

 and Keats s sormet had best be buried in oblivion. 

 Jocularity sits ill upon the immortals. Matthew 

 Arnold has indeed celebrated Atossa in some 



