328 



THE BOOK OF THE CAT. 



was so extremely long that the markings 

 became somewhat confused. 



They have had some extremely fine brown 

 tabbies in Maine. In the summer of 1900 

 I bought " Maxine " there the mother of 

 " Young Hamlet," who won over his sire 

 " Prince Rupert " the first year he was shown. 

 She was, or is, very much the type of the 

 " King Humbert " stock, though she has no 

 pedigree whatever. 



It is one of Nature's own secrets how they 

 keep bringing forth now and then, not 

 always these fine types. 



I have before me a most interesting letter 

 from a Maine lady, one of my contemporaries. 



I will first explain that Maine at that time 

 was one of the largest ship-building States in 

 the Union, residents of the seaport towns and 

 cities being often masters of their own float- 

 ing palaces, taking their families with them to 

 foreign countries, and having in many towns 

 quite social sets, like the army set or official 

 set in other sections. 



Mrs. Thomas, to whose letter I refer, was 

 the daughter of the late Captain Stackpole, 

 who commanded his own ship for many years, 

 taking his wife and little daughter with him. 

 That was before our Civil War. She says : 



" I was always very fond of cats before they 

 had to have a pedigree. In my younger 

 days, en route for California, we stopped at 

 Juan Fernandez, and I got a little wild cat. 



" Later on, when in Europe, I got a Manx 

 cat from the Isle of Man ; it was a great 

 curiosity, and not considered very handsome, 

 with its bob-tail, and hind legs so much longer 

 than the front ones. It came to an untimely 

 end by running up a flue, and was smothered 

 to death. 



" The wild cat did not flourish on condensed 

 milk, and lived but a short time. Bad luck 

 has followed me right along, but I keep right 

 on like an old toper, and don't know enough 

 to stop." 



In writing of her own cat, the mother of 

 " Swampscott," she says : 



" I cannot tell you much about my cat's 

 pedigree only that her great-grandfather was 



brought to Rockport, Maine, from France ; he 

 was a blue-eyed white." 



This line of whites, while in the same 

 locality, are quite distinct and unrelated to 

 the first whites mentioned, of which " Dot " 

 was given as a type. 



But her reference to her early exploits with 

 Manx cats clears the air as to how these dif- 

 ferent varieties first got root in Maine. This 

 instance is only one in many where pets of 

 every variety were bought in foreign ports to 

 amuse the children on shipboard ; otherwise, 

 as in one case I can call to mind, the children 

 would make pets of the live stock carried to 

 supply the captain's table with fresh meals 

 chickens, lambs, etc. until it would be 

 impossible to eat the little dears after they 

 were served by the cruel cook. 



Therefore birds of plumage and singers, 

 cats, dogs, and even monkeys, found their way 

 to nearly all the coast towns many more in 

 the past than at this time, when sailing vessels 

 have passed their usefulness as money-making 

 institutions, and those that do go out are 

 not commanded by their owners ; paid cap- 

 tains, as a rule, cannot take their families 

 with them, and the supply of cats from that 

 source has been cut off for many years, so 

 those we find there now can safely be called 

 natives. 



Up to this point I have been writing of the 

 cats of the long, long ago, and perhaps only 

 interesting to myself, being as full of plain 

 facts as Gradgrind. 



Before coming down to some of the fine cats 

 of the present day, I will say that I am told 

 by an eye-witness that on a little island quite 

 well off the coast which is inhabited by only 

 three families, and where a few gentlemen 

 have a quiet nook to fish in summer, 

 they found pure white Persian cats with 

 the most heavenly-blue eyes. So far as 

 is known, no other cats are on the island. I 

 had the promise of a pair last year, but cruel 

 fate had visited them in their sheltered nook, 

 and the kittens that year died. The promise 

 still holds good, and I do not want to believe 

 it a " fish story." Time alone can finish it. 



