, 1878-06-07
The Domestic Sphinx.

times, luGcCl, ue y guilty ut acts ~ uc'
cepIiou and bypncrisy, but they are crude
and ingenious compared 20 the uufath.
omAblu Wilcs uf a cat. Mr. North's dog,
for instance, Who ate the pigeon GU, Of
the pie and stuffed up the hole with Mr..
NOrth's ink-spungr, was not On adept in
the art ui theft, aud iOX-terTier with
whom the present writer enjoys the init
macy of common houShold has dis.
graCcd herself this last week by What
was, to all iutents and purposes, a lie,
when little more a,.uteness would have
shown her the iutiliiy Of falsehooi in
the face Of an abb. She had been tear.
ing up paper and s,rewing 1t about the
floor, with fine literary freedom, when
the servant whose duty it was TO clean
the carpet asked her, with magisterial sc.
verify, "WhO tore those letters! y The
culprit looked at first terribly abashed,
and hung her head and tail in cXpccta.
tion of chastisement, till her mistress, as
trial, observed, IL wonder did Gyp do
iti' (Gyp being the offenders usual
companion aud telow.sinner, but as it
CHANGED, two hundred miles of at the
moment.) Instantly the pertidious little
wretch perceived II way of escape from
the penalty of her own misdeeds, by
throwing the blame on her friend, and
looking up briskly, shook her tail fran.
tically, and almost nodded, "You are
right, 1t was that wicked Gyp! AS for
me, | am quite incapable of touching a
piece of paper"
1t is as useless for Il dog to attempt
these deceptions as for n good honest Eng
lishmah TO profit by the cOunsels of
Macchiavelli. But the case is quite diff
ferent with cat. She is domestic
SphinX-whose countenance is solemn as
that OF her stony prototype who has
gazed for sixty centuries over the field Of
death at Ghiza, and whose tail is not, as
George Eliot describes the tail of dog,
a "vehicle for the, emotions" and never
betrays her. except in the case of leo
nine rage. No philosopher, we are per-
suaded, ever yet got to the bottom Of a
cats mind. No one fathoms her implac-
able resentments, her deep, unspoken
suspicious of her enemies, or her unalter-
able confidence and gratitude towards
her friends. Few people attempt to
study her; she is rarely even given a
name, but is spoken of, like poor work
house orphan, by her surname, "The
Cat'-or in the vocative, "Puss"-and
treated little better by one, little
worse by another, but rarely watched
with any attention or sympathy, such as
many of US bestow on our dogs. Yet
there must be something really profound
, in cats feelings, since there are num-
berless instances on record where they
have perished and died for grief at the
loss of their masters or mistresses; and
the following, which occurred last week,
affords touching proof of a sentiment
still more rare in any animal - pure
friendship. A correspondent writes to
us:
"Colonel C-'s little black k-and-tan
pet dog Flo died last Monday morning
about three o'clock. He had had her
many years, and she had long had an in
ternal complaint. She was dear little
affectionate, intelligent creature, and bad
always been treated as kindly as child.
He buried her in his. garden, and over
her little grave the housekeeper's chill
dren shed many tears. Yesterday
heard from him as follows: Another of
my domestic pets was an old black cat
which came to me kitten years ago, a
few weeks before l brought 'Flo' from
Oxford. They grew up together, and
were very fond of each other, eating
from the same plate and drinking from
the same glass. have often seen them
stand side by side before my fire, and oc-
casionally put their mouths together, as
though they were absolutely kissing.
Well, the poor old cat seemed very mis-
cradle all day yesterday Ohat is, Monday,
the day on which 'FlO' had died early
in the morning., and we could not in
duce her to eat. She could not be found
last night when the house was closed,
but as this occasionally happened, not
much was thought of it. This morning
she was found stiff and cold, stretched
out by the side of 'Flo's' grave! could
not have believed it, if had not seen it
with my own eyes. Whether it is only a
coincidence, l will not pretend TO say,
but | would rather believe that the poor
animal died from grief at the loss of her
old friend. But if so, how did she know
that Flo was dead0 Such fact as this
leads to strange thoughts, or what would
be called strange, by those who can see
in these creatures 'only dog or 'only a
cat.'n
When we reflect on the amount of
thought and tenderness of sentiment
which this story reveals, does it not seem
as if, in our usual treatment of cats, we
must be stupidity. ignoring something
very wonderful and beautiful, close be-
side US all day long2
A more painful impression is the re-
membrance that on creatures like this
have been heaped for ages back every
sort of cruel treatment by thoughtless
people-by brutal boys, or wretches like
the one convicted last week of skinning
cat alive; and last and worst Of all, by
vivisectors, of whom one in London
aunyral 30 tha Dnuol (tnnnrni ssiOn that hn