l ? 4 ANIMALS OF TO-DAY 



cats, while I have certainly not counted the dogs. 

 Of the above number of cats, half are said to be 

 of the happy domestic kind, and half of the wild, 

 " unattached," starved, homeless sort. Now, if the 

 police would destroy all unattached cats, and leave 

 the dogs alone, they would earn the gratitude 

 instead of the anathemas of the community at 

 large. It seems, however, that even these poor 

 creatures are not wholly to be despised, for it is 

 largely owing to these starved wretches that 

 London is preserved from a plague of rats ; it 

 is through their vigilance that " in most parts of 

 London rats have been driven underground into 

 the sewers by the warfare of cats." 



" The London cat," says Mr. Cornish, " is sleepy 

 and quiet all day," but it is unnecessary to be told 

 that " he is an early riser," for we all know it to our 

 sorrow. " In summer mornings, from four a.m. to 

 five a.m., London ceases to belong to the world of 

 men, and is given up to the sole enjoyment of 

 London birds and London cats." Then it is, alas ! 

 or long before then, that the sleepless biped is 

 aroused from his first short sleep by the exasperat- 

 ing howls and unearthly screams of cats on the 

 lawn under his bedroom window. 



As I have said, I am but moderately fond of 

 even a respectable, quiet, home-bred cat. The one 

 that looks after my mice is perfectly black, his 

 coat is thick and glossy not a speck of white on 

 him. He is now about four years old, and has 

 seen and suffered much affliction in his time. One 



