grey cat of the Brontës, watching Emily's bread-making with wise, attentive eyes. She was the silent sister's favourite, and Charlotte has recorded the grief at Haworth when the poor little creature died. There dwelt the cheerful colony of Edgeworthstown cats, or such of them, at least, as were not on police duty in the stables. Miss Edgeworth, though no enthusiast, has left us a pleasant description of these pussies, and of their delight at the reappearance of a maid who had been absent with the family at Longford. "I forgot to tell you a remarkable feature of our return," she writes to her cousin, Sophy Ruxton. "All the cats, even those who properly belong to the stable, and who had never been admitted to the honours of a sitting in the kitchen, crowded around Kitty with congratulatory faces, crawling up her gown, insisting upon caressing and being caressed, when she reappeared in the lower regions. Mr. Gilpin's slander against cats, as selfish, unfeeling creatures, is refuted by stubborn facts."
That is a pretty touch of "congratulatory faces," and worthy of the writer's pen. We can see the topaz eyes gleaming softly in the firelight; we can hear the welcoming purr, and feel the gentle rubbing of the furry sides. It is from Miss Edgeworth, too, that we learn of Joanna Baillie's cat, a splendid Amazon, who once avenged the wrongs of her race
