290 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



&quot; You see the beauty of the world 



Through eyes of unalloyed content, 

 And, in my study chair upcurled, 

 Move me to pensive wonderment. 



&quot; I wish I knew your trick of thought, 

 The perfect balance of your ways ; 

 They seem an inspiration, caught 

 From other laws in older days.&quot; 



&quot;From the dawn of creation,&quot; says Mr. Lang ap 

 preciatively, &quot;the cat has known his place, and he has 

 kept it, practically untamed and unspoiled by man. 

 He has retenue. Of all animals, he alone attains to 

 the Contemplative Life. He regards the wheel of 

 existence from without, like the Buddha. There is 

 no pretence of sympathy about the cat. He lives 

 alone, aloft, sublime, in a wise passiveness. He is 

 excessively proud, and, when he is made the sub 

 ject of conversation, will cast one glance of scorn, 

 and leave the room in which personalities are 

 bandied. All expressions of emotion he scouts as 

 frivolous and insincere, except, indeed, in the am 

 brosial night, when, free from the society of man 

 kind, he pours forth his soul in strains of unpre 

 meditated art. The paltry pay and paltry praise of 

 humanity he despises, like Edgar Poe. He does 

 not exhibit the pageant of his bleeding heart ; he 

 does not howl when people die, nor explode in cries 

 of delight when his master returns from a journey. 



