Nevertheless, it must be acknowledged that the feline war record, so far as it is known in history, is not a brilliant one. The unwritten annals of the race are dark, indeed, with strife. For matchless courage, and for an animated joy in battle, the cat can hardly be surpassed. But the combat must be of his own choosing, and with his own kindred. To the perpetual wrangling of humanity he offers a mortifying indifference. That splendid spirit of partisanship which made Prince Rupert's dog fly at a Roundhead's throat is all unknown to the cat. That intelligent understanding of a political situation which induced the wise and wary greyhound, Math, to desert King Richard the Second, who had reared him from puppyhood, and fawn upon the victorious Bolingbroke; or which inspired the favourite spaniel of Charles of Blois to quit his master's side before the battle of Auray, and seek the safer shelter of John de Montfort's tent, would be impossible—let us hope—for the cat. When Puss has taken an active part in any warfare,—as in the dastardly attack of Cambyses upon the pious Egyptians,—he was but an irresponsible and unwilling agent. Therefore he has seldom been the admitted friend of fighting men. Be it remembered with regret that Napoleon detested cats as cordially all his life as Lord Roberts detests them now.
The irritable race of authors have, on the other
