of a reserved nature, presenting invariably the same cold insolence of demeanour, the same "heartless and deliberate rudeness" to all church dignitaries save Liddon, whom he loved to distraction, and whom it was his delight to entertain with acrobatic feats. He would jump upon a bust of Dr. Busby which stood on a bracket near the door, balance himself for one instant upon that severe and reverent brow, take a flying leap to the mantelpiece, and returning, land with exquisite and unvarying accuracy on the bust, repeating this performance as often as his master desired. Liddon's great amusement was to stand with his back to the bracket, and fling a biscuit at Dr. Busby's head, the cat catching it dexterously, and without losing his precarious foothold.
One shivers even now at the thought of any man who had once been a little boy, or of any cat who had once been a little kitten, taking such unpardonable liberties with Dr. Busby. His awful shadow looms dark and terrible in the history of childhood. The brilliant scholars, the successful statesmen, the pious and learned divines whom his rod had assisted to eminence, trembled secretly when they heard his name; yet here were a canon and his cat encouraging each other in ribald acts of desecration. Was there no lesser light whose "animated bust" could have served as a pedestal for athletic sports?
