8o The Book of Cats. 



matter on which I could place reliance, and I was 

 half inclined to abandon my resolve, when happen- 

 ing to have ten minutes to spend, waiting for an 

 omnibus at a street corner in the east-end of 

 London, I made a discovery in a shop window, by the 

 result of which I intend that you shall benefit 

 almost as much as I have myself ; for this discovery 

 was nothing less than the very identical tale-book 

 that I bought when I was a child, only it was a 

 penny now, instead of twopence, as in the days of 

 my extreme youth, — yes, the very identical tale of 

 Whittington and his Cat, with a splendid illustrated 

 pink wrapper and seven magnificent engravings, 

 hand-coloured blue, red, yellow and pink on each 

 plate, with here and there a dash of green laid 

 boldly on, irrespective of outline, and now and 

 again reaching as far as the type. Here, in the 

 well -remembered verses, was Richard's history 

 related : — 



" Dick Whittington had often heard 

 The curious story told 

 That far fam'd London's brilliant streets 

 Were paved with sheets of gold ; 

 Sometimes by waggon, erst on foot. 

 Poor Dick he came to town, 

 But found the streets, instead of gold, 

 Were muddy, thick, and brown." 



