COMPANIONS OF MY SOLITUDE. 169 



" II cane e fedele si, ma il gatto e traditore." 

 Dogs are faithful, cats are traitors, is the Italian 

 sentiment. But I had rather meet a cat than a 

 dog when I am out after " bugs." There is a dog 

 that lives across the creek. He is a despicable 

 person with a mighty voice, and his sole desire is 

 to break loose and rush over and bite me when- 

 ever he sees me looking among the branches of 

 that weeping willow. He takes it for granted 

 that I am in bad business, and I naturally feel 

 aggrieved. Perhaps he is color-blind, and mis- 

 takes my black dress for the blue blouse of a 

 Chinese rag-picker, for I have seen one of those 

 persons here searching this little ravine for addi- 

 tions to his baskets. 



No cat ever has spoken so impudently to me 

 when on these entomologizing excursions as that 

 dog has. He is a villain, and a standing argu- 

 ment to me that the Ettrick Shepherd was entirely 

 wrong when he said, " I canna but believe that 

 dowgs hae sowls." 



As a general thing, however, the companion- 

 ship of " critters " is consoling. Go out some day 

 when you are disgusted with your neighbors, 

 when the inquisitiveness and idiocy of the world 

 of human beings has been particularly galling. 

 Go and sit down on the green grass by a cow for 

 a while. Listen to her speech, look into her eyes, 

 observe the soothing regularity of her chewing. 

 See with what confiding trust the goat approaches 



