THE CAT TRIUMPHANT 171 



be as far removed from an impossible standard 

 of perfection. 



One feline Sybarite took an unworthy advantage 

 of Mr. Carlyle's absence to kitten on his bed ; and 

 another stole the red herring which the maid-of-all- 

 work had cooked for her own dinner. There was 

 at no time a superfluity of good cheer beneath that 

 meagre roof, and who, save the aggrieved maid, 

 could have censured so natural and necessary a 

 theft ? This hapless cat was afterwards — while 

 its mistress was away — ruthlessly drowned, " for 

 unexampled dishonesty," being expected, appar- 

 ently, to live upon nothing but mice. 



The next incumbent was a vivacious black pussy, 

 known by the pretty name of Columbine. There 

 is an amusing letter from Mrs. Carlyle, — when is 

 she not amusing ! — in which Nero, the little dog, 

 gives his absent master a graphic picture of the 

 unhomelike home, with its Spartan rigours, and 

 bleak, clean, fussy discomfort. He winds up rue- 

 fully : " There was no dinner yesterday, to speak 

 of. I had, for my share, only a piece of biscuit 

 that might have been round the world ; and if Col^ 

 umbine got anything at all, I did n't see it." 



Possibly Columbine foraged for herself, after the 

 free-booting fashion of her race ; but the white cat 

 that succeeded her departed immediately from such 

 dinnerless quarters. Then Mr. Darwin offered 



