Under her clement reign, they waxed fat, and multiplied exceedingly. At her meals, she was the centre of a circle, who, with lynx eyes, watched every movement of her hand to her lips, and with discordant growling, grudged every morsel which was not bestowed upon them. Sometimes she might be heard by those who passed her mansion, addressing her dependants with every appellation of fondness; at others, with bitter vituperations; while their shrill voices, now mingling with her cadence, and anon leading the concert, gave notice that they were paying the penalty of some petty larceny on the larder. Frequently she was seen, issuing from her habitation, her tall, gaunt form clad in a sky-blue tammy petticoat, partially concealed from view by a short, faded, scarlet cloak, bearing a basket of kittens to display their beauty to some amateur, or put them to service with some rat-infested householder. Following, with distracted haste, the mother Grimalkin might be traced, tossing her whiskers, and uttering piteous moans; occasionally infixing her claws, in the stiff blue petticoat, that she might thereby climb to her kidnapped offspring. The bereaved parent would be either consoled with caresses, or distanced by a blow, as the caprice of the dame might dictate.
Another object claimed her attention, though in an inferiour degree. On the utmost limits of the parapet of rock, which flanked her suburbs, was a solitary barberry-bush, which possibly she felt bound to patronize, by virtue of her name, as Goddess of Flowers. To this spot, the visits
