self and man, seeks ever to be intelligent and intelligible, and translates into looks and actions the words he cannot speak, the cat dwells within the circle of her own secret thoughts. She scorns la vie de parade, and makes no effort to reveal herself to us, save when we minister to her needs, or when, in some sweet impulse of cajolery, she gives us transient tokens of regard. Gautier and Loti enjoyed many such moments, because they were so sensitively attuned to their felicity; but that they held Madame Théophile or Moumoutte Chinoise in the bonds of indissoluble friendship, I cannot find it in my heart to believe. They would never have prized so highly an affection of which they entertained no doubt.
As for those foolish moderns who write papers for magazines to prove that the cat is a sorely slandered animal, and who represent their own pets as entertaining for them a profound and respectful passion, they cherish their illusions cheaply. "I observe authors," says Mr. Lang, "who speak concerning cats with a familiarity and a levity most distasteful." Like the people who write gossipy books about emperors and empresses, they assume an air of easy intimacy, "a great and disrespectful license," which they deem elevates them to equality. They also attribute to their cats a host of intolerable virtues which would put to shame the little girls
