276 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



She is seldom intrusive, and never exuberant, but 

 manifests at times a sweet and flattering desire to 

 be with us, whether we are reading silently, oblivi- 

 ous of her presence, or have leisure to seduce her 

 into play. Dickens's Williamina — first christened, 

 in error, William — used to put out the candles with 

 her paw if she thought her master too absorbed in 

 his book, or too long unconscious of her patient 

 waiting. Now and then this little fireside friend 

 will even consent to accompany us out of doors ; 

 not with the overflowing delight of a restless dog, 

 but with a graciousness of demeanour which re- 

 minds one of Mme. de Sevigne and her compan- 

 ions strolling through the leafy paths of Les 

 Rochers. "A cat," says M. Champfleury, "does 

 not invite us to a tramp ; she does not appear to 

 find the pleasure in active exercise which distin- 

 guishes the dog. She only rambles a little with 

 some one for whom she has a fancy, on condition 

 always that the distance be short, and the spot a 

 quiet one. A student who, book in hand, treads 

 meditatively the shady garden walks, is perhaps 

 most to her taste. She will run before him for a 

 few steps, roll herself lightly over the gravel, return 

 to his side for an absent-minded caress, and again 

 precede him down the path, leading him as far as 

 she deems it well for him to go." 



Curiosity is a trait as common in young cats as 



