rudely expelling a cat, more in anger than in sorrow, which he found in the library; but he had no idea, probably, when he had it raked out from under the furniture, that it was a pensioner of his household, and a recognized retainer. Now, how can such a man be called upon to pay a tax on a cat? The animal, by every one’s confession, quartered itself by guile upon the premises, and belongs to nobody. The cook says it can go (for she knows very well that it will immediately come back again), and even the tax-collector could hardly, under the circumstances of a general disclaimer, persist in assessing the little animal. As I have already pointed out, therefore, the presence of a cat in a house does not imply ownership in the householder, for it would be just as fair to infer from the presence of a tea-party of cats in a back yard that they all belonged to the contiguous house. A cat is at home nowhere, for she makes herself at home everywhere. All workhouses are much the same to paupers. It is very difficult, therefore, to see how the collector will collect his tax. His alternatives will be equally disagreeable, for he must either refuse to believe what he is told on oath by every person he calls upon, or else he must remove the cats. For this purpose he would have to go about accompanied by some conveyance not smaller in size than a train-car, for any ordinary Square in the suburbs would supply enough cats to fill a large vehicle. And when he has got them, what will he do with them? Cats cannot be impounded — except in a well, and even then it would be necessary to keep the lid down; nor would it be permissible in these days of advanced humanity to destroy them by cremation as if they were so much condemned stores; nor could they be served out to the parochial author-
