KIDD'’S OWN JOURNAL. 
115 

esteem. He was assisted by her convictions 
of his worth, and a sense of her own desti- 
tution and dependent situation ; for she was 
existing on the kindness of friends. In a 
word, he at length succeeded in gaining her 
hand, though with the solemn assurance that 
her heart was unalterably another’s. 
He took her with him to Sicily, hoping 
a change of scene might wear out a memory 
of early woe. She was an animated and 
exemplary wife, and made an effort to be a 
happy one. But nothing could cure the 
silent and devouring melancholy that had 
entered into her very soul. She wasted 
away in a slow but hopeless decline, and 
at length sunk into the grave—the victim 
of a broken heart. 
It was on her that Tom Moore composed 
the following lines :— 
She is far from the land where her young hero 
sleeps, 
And lovers around her are sighing; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 
For her heart in his grave is lying. 
She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 
Every note which he loved awaking— 
Ah! little they think who delight in her strains, 
How the heart of the minstrel is breaking ! 
He had lived for his love, for his country he died; 
They were all that to life had entwined him; 
Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, 
Nor long will his love stay behind him. 
Oh, make her a grave where the sunbeams rest, 
When they promise a glorious morrow ; 
They'll shine o’er her sleep like a smile from the 
west, 
From her own loved island of sorrow! 
THE DOMESTIC CAT. 
Ir has been saide that the cat, although a fond creture, 
will scratch you, if provoked, or if teazed. Now, a 
woman will do the same thing; yet cannot we help 
loving her! Let bothe be used kindly then, and their 
claws will not be employed againste us. Love begetteth 
love.—From ‘‘ An Essaie on the Householde Cat,” 1714. 


THERE ARE REGISTERED in the columns 
of OUR JOURNAL (more particularly in the 
first volume), many remarkable anecdotal 
facts connected with the Cat; and there can 
be no doubt whatever that, amidst many 
doubtful qualities, she does possess many 
that may be proriounced amiable. 
It always gives us pleasure to record any 
and everything that is interesting in animals ; 
we therefore make way to day for a few 
remarks (abridged from a charming paper on 
“Cats,” signed A. B. R.) which appeared in 
a recent number of our excellent contem- 
porary, the “ Illustrated London News.” Is 
the writer a lady? The genial tone of the 
subject-matter would indicate as much :— 
That cats love localities better than persons, is 
half so much truth as is generally believed. In 
many of the cases which are commonly quoted in 
proof, the eat has returned to her former locality 
because she can make an easier living there than 
on unknown grounds. I remember a gentleman 
abusing a cat for attachment to stone and lime 
rather than to flesh and blood, because, on his 
changing his residence, puss had practically re- 
fused to change hers with him, and had gone back 
to haunt the purlieus of a neighboring granary. I 
inquired—whether the family had regularly fed 
her? ‘Oh, dear no!” was the reply; “she 
could feed herself very well, and did so on the 
rats and mice and small birds about the barn.” 
“Then, of course,’ I rejoined, “ the cat has more 
reason to love the barn than you. It gave her 
food: she found none here. She might not be 
aware that you intended to supply her, and 
animal instinct prompted her—as, if a dog lived 
on what he could pick up, it would also prompt 
bim to return to the spot where his wants had 
been supplied.” 
The plain truth of the matter is, that well- 
treated and regularly-fed cats have no particular 
attachment to a place. On the contrary, they 
attach themselves to the persons kind to them, 
and who often notice them; so that the cry of 
want of personal attachment on the part of the 
feline tribe, is very frequently mere slander of 
ladies and gentlemen who have neglected, perhaps 
ill-treated, the creatures—and yet expect them 
to be as fond as lovers. 
How true is this picture of a cat’s life! 
Almost all cats are starved. We have said 
so, over and over again. A single half- 
penny-worth of meat (and that bought 
grudgingly) transfixed by a wooden skewer, 
is very frequently the entire quantity of food 
given (cold water excepted !) to supply the 
wants of two cats. Hence is it that cats go 
so often ‘‘ visiting” to a neighbor’s house, 
taking away with them all they can find in 
the way of ‘“grub.’’ We do not blame the 
cat,—surely not; but her inhuman mistress. 
Still the poor cat suffers. 
The barbarities practised on our domestic 
cats are fearfully great. Most dogs too, are 
kept equally short—more than half-starved. 
We speak feelingly on this point. The 
howling of a neighbor’s dog tells us a piteous 
tale of animal suffering. His agonies must 
indeed be extreme. But then he is “only a 
dog!” How the heart sickens at such 
heathenish brutality ! 
We can readily believe that cats, well fed 
and kindly used, do form strong attach- 
ments— 
Cats are fond of those who are fond of them; 
and they are as sharp as needles in finding out 
their real friends, and in shrinking from people 
“who don’t like cats.” One of my pussies knows 
my knock at the door, especially at night, and her 
mew follows closely on the sound; while gene- 
rally, a couple of other creatures of the same species 
-are waiting with her in the lobby, and the whole 
three accompany me up-stairs in procession. If 
an axiom in which I feel assured that there is not | they happen to be out of doors at night, a single 

