bring back the cat. Long before Peter the Hermit preached to the loyal sons of Christendom, Pussy slept by English firesides, and was held in high esteem in English nunneries, alike for her gentleness and valour. A canon enacted in 1127 forbade all nuns, even abbesses, to wear any costlier skins than those of lambs and cats; and the "Ancren Riwle" of 1205 denied them possession of flocks, cattle, swine, or other domestic animals, save only the cat. "Ye, my dear sisters, shall have no beast but a cat," says this excellent ordinance;—"no best bute kat ane," is the old Saxon manuscript. "An Anchoress that hath herds seemeth a better housewife (as was Martha) than an Anchoress, and in no wise may she be Mary with peacefulness of heart."
To have sheep in the fold, cows in the barn, mules in the stable, was to sin against holy Poverty,—Our Lady Poverty, mother of all monastic virtues; but the cat stood for no such excess of indulgence. Her value was small, but her services were great. She gave to convents chill and bare that look of home, that sweet suggestion of domesticity, which all women, even cloistered women, love; she played with her kittens in the sun, affording a welcome distraction from work and prayer; and she held herself ever in joyful readiness to
"Combat with the creeping Mouse,
And scratch the screeking Rat."
