ee 









for his love of nature,—and for his good-nature in 
particular—Emizy P., Carshalton. 
[Oh, Emily! you are a little flatterer. How- 
ever, we never contradict a young lady; so e’en 
let it be as you say. You ask us, in a postscript 
to your note,—whether you should apply to Mr. 
Boxron for the requisite apparatus, &c., to com- 
mence operations. Do so by all means. He isa 
photographic chemist; and keeps everything con- 
nected with the study,—cameras, plates, lenses, 
&c. His address is 146, Holborn Bars. You can 
ect the gallic and pyrogallic acid there also. Let 
us hear how you progress.] 






More about the Domestic Cat.—I thank you 
much,— and your good, kind correspondent, 
Bombyx Atlas also—for bringing under my notice 
that article onthe Cat. It is indeed prettily and 
faithfully given to the public; and will I hope, 
obtain for our feline friends generally more humane 
consideration than they now receive. They are, 
as you say, for the most part half starved. My 
object in writing to you is, to ask you to give in 
your forthcoming number the “ introduction” to 
that article on the Cat. There are points in it 
which I have Italicised, that deserve marked 
attention. Icould write a volume about them, 
and “illustrate” it too ; but knowing how valuable 
your space is, I merely ask a little corner in which 
I may “hint,” without amplifying. ‘‘ The ‘com- 
mon domestic cat’—as elementary books of natural 
history call our fireside-sitting, garden-haunting, 
and roof-frequenting puss—is a creature to whose 
qualities and true characteristics I hardly think 
the world does justice. Forlorn old women, who 
wanted something to love —and, for that matter, 
prim old maids, who experienced in a less elevated 
degree the same sensation—were bad patrons for 
raising Puss in the scale of popular favor; and, 
although great philosophers and great writers— 
for example, Montaigne, Johnson, Scott, Joanna 
Baillie—had favorites of the feline race, and left 
their names to posterity, yet the great majority of 
men pin their quadrupedal affections upon dogs 
instead. The quiet characteristics and unobtrusive 
traits of character of poor Puss are passed over 
unnoticed and unknown. The dog, with moral 
and instinctive lineaments more prononcés—and, 
Ido not deny it, more elevated’ in their nature, 
than are Pussy’s humbler gifts—has become the 
universal favorite. You hear the dog’s clatter on 
the stair—never the velvet foot-fall of the cat: 
the one rouses you, the other produces no effect. 
Yet the paw of the cat is a thousand times more 
artistic and curious than that of the dog. One 
of the results of the careless estimate of cats—as a 
species of all but worthless animals, destitute of 
the fine affection and noble instinct of the dog, 
and fit only for watching at a mouse-hole—has 
been to foster, ifnot to create, among boys a degree 
of habitual cruelty to the creature, which is any- 
thing but creditable to those who allow its practi- 
cal development. ‘A good dog for cats,’ meaning 
a ferocious bull-terrier which can worry poor Puss 
in a couple of shakes, is a common expression 
among precocious juveniles; and, unhappily, it 
sticks to them as they grow. Shooting cats, when 
they can be conveniently put an end to, is not un- 
frequently a boy’s passion; and in most acts of 
wanton cruelty—which from time to time we find 
























































































KIDD’S OWN JOURNAL. 


191 

recorded in print—an unfortunate Tabby is pretty 
sure to have been the victim. Unhappily, Puss 
has got credit for nine lives, and she has frequently 
full occasion for them atu, She also possesses the 
wretched reputation ofalways falling upon her feet, 
from whatever height she may be thrown; and 
many a cruel experiment has been made to ascer- 
tain the fact. We repeat, that people having a 
taste for dogs are seldom catholic enough in their 
animal fondness to extend it to cats. You never 
hear of drowning dogs, or pelting dogs, or having 
dogs worried, for mere amusement. The creature’s 
more conspicuous gifts are appreciated by those 
rougherjudging estimates, which are unableto make 
out the subtler delicacies of the cat organisation. 
The man with a prime terrier for rats—or a mastiff 
which can throttle a bull-dog—or a hound which 
can pull down a red deer—or even a poodle which 
can sit upon its hind legs and yelp at the word of 
command—not one of these amateurs but will 
discover and admire the points and motions of the 
creatures while performing these achievements ; 
but it is twenty to one that they never studied, or 
never thought it worth while studying, one of the 
most perfectly graceful things beneath the sun— 
a cat curving herself for a spring; or one of 
the most dexterous performances which animal 
nature is capable of—a cat picking her way 
among a series either of moveable or hurtful 
petty articles, without touching a single one. I 
myself have a cat which deftly walks from end to 
end of a chimney-piece, so crowded with the tiny 
ornaments that there is hardly a square inch of 
space unoccupied ; and which promenades upon a 
glass-protected wall as on a Turkey carpet. Place 
a dog on the chimney-piece, and vast will be the 
clatter of destruction—on the wall, and sore and 
bleeding will be the paws with which he will 
howlingly precipitate himself to mother earth.” — 
This last observation is sotrue! As for the care 
shown by a cat, whilst threading her way through 
hosts of curiosities—valuable or otherwise, it is 
truly marvellous. How I could enlarge on this! 
But for reasons already given, I forbear.—Puss. 
[Thank you, Puss-y. We gladly make room 
for your kind communication, knowing well the 
affection of the heart that caused its owner to 
transcribe it. To assist you still further,we will 
append the finale to the article of A. B. R.; 
and henceforward let us stand acquitted of the 
charge of being erwel persecutors of the cat. 
We love “domestic” cats. It is the half- 
starved race of freebooters (who gobble up our 
birds, disappear with our choice chickens, and 
occasionally walk off with ‘‘a perfect picture’ of 
a shoulder of lamb) that we wage war upon. Their 
masters and mistresses are to blame, we grant, 
for starving them; but the law does not reach 
them. It falls heavily on the innocent. But 
here is the summing-up of the argument :— 
“Let me hope,” says A. B. R., “that the 
reader, if he be one of that numerous class who 
‘hate cats;’ if he perchance have imbibed the 
groundless antipathy which Shylock speaks of 
to the ‘harmless, necessary cat,’ will pause and 
look a little more closely into the delicate and 
dainty nature of the creature which purrs before 
him—will try to puzzle out some meaning in a 
face pronounced only by those who have never 
studied its phases and its shades to be un- 
