THE CAT TO-DAY 289 



Yet nothing mortal may defy 

 The march of Anno Domini, 



Not e en the Senior Fellow. 



&quot; Beneath our linden shade he lies ; 

 Mere eld hath softly closed his eyes 



With late and honoured end. 

 He seems, while catless we confer, 

 To join with faint Elysian purr, 



A tutelary friend.&quot; 



We know what it is when Pussy s place is vacant, 

 and her familiar little figure no longer prowls with 

 padded footsteps around our desolate rooms. Why 

 should we miss so sorely a creature who entered 

 but sparingly into our lives, and gave us only a nig 

 gard portion of regard ? Perhaps because the deep 

 disquiet of our souls finds something akin to rest in 

 the mere contemplation of an egotism so finely 

 adjusted to its ends. 



&quot; You are life s true philosopher, 

 To whom all moralists are one,&quot; 



sighs a poet in the &quot; Spectator,&quot; addressing his cat 

 with the wistful envy of a man who has been bored 

 and battered by the strenuous ethics of the day. 



&quot; You hold your race traditions fast, 



While others toil, you simply live, 

 And, based upon a stable past, 

 Remain a sound conservative. 



