  W Well, my little friends, I think I need hardly describe this animal to you; for there is scarcely a home in England, rich or poor, which is without a pussy. How the children all love the little kitten, the nursery pet, with its pretty playful ways and graceful movements! But kitty grows up too soon into the sedate old mother-cat, like the one we see in the picture holding the poor little mouse in her mouth. Ah! that to me is a terrible drawback to Pussy,—that love of killing. I am so fond of cats that this year I went to the Crystal Palace Cat Show, where I saw some beauties: among others a tortoiseshell Tom, which is said to be a great rarity. Hundreds of cats, large and small, long-haired and short-haired, long-tailed and tailless, cats of every colour known to catdom, filled the cages, which were arranged in long rows. And I must say they bore their imprisonment with wonderful patience. For three days they had been shut up in those wire houses, like birds: and some of the cages housed a whole family. One, I remember, contained a mamma and her six children; the latter small, but very rampageous. I pitied this poor mother with all my heart: how her patience must have been tried during those three dreadful days! Though we may not like to see cats kill small animals, Puss is often valued in proportion as she can rid the house of rats and mice. So it is, I suspect, with the cat in the picture. She is evidently owned by a carpenter, who perhaps found his workshop infested by rats and mice till he possessed this handsome tabby. She will soon rid him of them, I think: and see how she is teaching her kittens to follow her example! But in spite of their natural instinct to destroy mice and birds, cats may be easily taught to live in friendship with these very creatures; and I will tell you a story of a pet cat which, I think, will amuse you better than hearing about the poor little mice being killed. A lady that I know had a fine tabby cat, and also a very beautiful canary. The cat’s name was Bijou; the canary’s—Cherry. Now Bijou had been brought up from kittenhood with Cherry: that is, he had been accustomed to sit on the rug beside the fire, while Cherry sang in his cage on the table, or hanging at the window. Bijou always behaved perfectly well, and never attempted to molest Cherry. The mistress of these two pets used to let the canary fly about sometimes in her bedroom, but she never had quite confidence enough in Bijou to do this while he was there. One day in summer the window of the bedroom happened to be open at the top without her noticing it, and the canary, after flying about the room a little while, passed out of the window. It flew round and about, from tree to tree, seeming to enjoy its liberty very much. The lady feared she had lost it for ever, but she brought out the cage and placed it upon the lawn, thinking there was just a chance that the canary might come back to its old home of its own accord. As she stood at the window watching, she presently saw the bird alight on the lawn. A moment afterwards she saw Bijou, who had been crouching in a bed of flowers, spring out, pounce upon the little creature, and seize it in his mouth. Then, to the lady’s astonishment, who expected to see the bird devoured, Bijou trotted with it up to the cage, and deposited the truant safely inside again. Cherry was dreadfully frightened, but not at all hurt, and after shaking its rumpled feathers into their places, sat on its perch as happy as ever. Children putting boots
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