"The gentler hound that near me lies,
Looks up with true and tender eyes,
And waits my generous mirth;
You do not woo me, but demand
A gift from my unwilling hand,
A tribute to your worth.
"You loved me when the fire was warm,
But, now I stretch a fondling arm,
You eye me and depart.
Cold eyes, sleek skin, and velvet paws,
You win my indolent applause,
You do not win my heart!"
Here is a clear and candid exposition of the case. The cat, indeed, as Montaigne discovered, but without resentment, long ago, awaits no one's mirth. "We entertain each other with mutual follies, and if I have my time to begin or to refuse, she also has hers." The essence of free social intercourse demands this mutual independence, this mutual background of reserve. A Nautch girl dances when she is bidden; an Englishwoman is privileged to dance or not, according to her fancy. I have often thought that the behaviour of a well-bred cat, when courted against her will, was singularly like the behaviour of a well-bred man or woman, forced by the exigencies of life to receive unwelcome attentions. She offers no rude resistance to the "fondling arm," and even purrs a few languid remarks, equivalent to "Delightful evening." "So
