One strong characteristic attributed to the Cat by its enemies and traducers is quarrelsomeness. I will not take the trouble to deny the assertion, but leave the reader to deny it out of his own experience, and will give two versions of the old story of the Kilkenny Cats, so frequently quoted in demonstration of the fighting qualities of Pussy, who is, evidently, only too eager to live in peace with all the world, in conformity with her great desire for comfort.

The story generally told is that two felines fought in a saw-pit with such ferocious determination that, when the battle was over, nothing could be found remaining of either combatant except the tail, the marvelous inference to be drawn therefrom being, of course, that they had devoured each other.

The ludicrous anecdote has, no doubt, been generally looked upon as an absurdity of the Joe Miller class—but this, according to a writer in the English "Notes and Queries," is all a mistake. He continues, concerning the historical matter of the Kilkenny Cats, "I have not the least doubt that the story of the mutual destruction of the contending cats was an allegory designed to typify the utter ruin to which centuries of litigation and embroilment on the subject of conflicting rights and privileges tended to reduce the respective exchequers of the rival municipal bodies of Kilkenny and Irishtown—separate corporations, existing within the limits of one city, and the boundaries of whose respective jurisdictions had never been marked out or defined by any authority to which either was willing to bow. Their struggle for precedence and for the maintenance of alleged rights invaded commenced A.D. 1377, and were carried on with truly feline fierceness and implacability until the end of the seventeenth century, when it may be fairly considered that they had mutually devoured each other, to the very tail, as we find their property all mortgaged, and see them each passing by-laws that their respective officers should be content with the dignity of their stations and forego all salary until the suit at law with the other pretended corporation should be terminated, and the incumbrances thereby caused removed with the vanquishment of the enemy."

Those who have taken the story of the Kilkenny Cats in its literal sense have done grievous injustice to the character of the grimalkins of the "fair critic," who are really quite as demure and quietly disposed a race of tabbies as it is in the nature of any animal to be. The other story, which, to my mind seems mere probable than the one just recited, is given by my friend, Mr. S. Clark Gould, in his "Notes and Queries," as follows:

"During the rebellion which occurred in Ireland, in 1798, or, it may be, in 1803, Kilkenny was garrisoned by a troop of Hessian soldiers, who amused themselves in barracks by tying two cats together by their tails and throwing them across a clothes-line to fight. One of the officers, hearing of this cruel practice, resolved to stop it. As he entered the room, one of the troopers seized a sword, cut the tails in two as the animals hung across the line, and thus suffered the two cats to escape, minus their tails, through the open window, and when the officer inquired the meaning of the two bleeding tails being left in the room, he was coolly told that two cats had been fighting, and had devoured each other, all but the tails."

Before Noah Webster asserted that "the lower animals" only possessed instinct, which he defined as a power "or disposition of mind, by which, independent of all instruction or experience, without deliberation, and without having any end in view, animals are unerringly directed to do spontaneously whatever is necessary for the preservation of the individual or the continuation of the kind," he should have read the following authenticated stories, illustrative of the forethought of the Cat. The first of these I take from an English magazine, called "Nature," and it is communicated by Dr. J.R. Frost.

"Our servants have been accustomed, during the late frost, to throw crumbs from the breakfast table to the birds, and I have, several times, noticed that our cat used to wait there in ambush, in the expectation of a hearty meal from one or two of the assembled birds. Now, so far, this circumstance is not an example of abstract reasoning, but to continue. For the last few days this practice of feeding the birds has been left off. The cat, however, with an almost incredible amount of forethought, was observed by myself, together with two other members of my household, to scatter crumbs on the grass with the obvious intention of enticing the birds."

Another correspondent writes to the same magazine as follows:

"A case somewhat similar to that mentioned by Dr. Frost, of a Cat scattering crumbs, occurred within my own knowledge in a neighbor's yard. During the recent severe winter a friend was in the habit of throwing crumbs outside his bedroom window. The family have a fine, black Cat, which, seeing that the crumbs brought birds, would occasionally hide himself behind some shrubs, and when the birds came to their breakfast would pounce upon them with varying success. The crumbs had been thrown out as usual one afternoon, but left untouched, and during the night a slight fall of snow occurred. On looking out next morning, my friend observed puss busily engaged in scratching away the snow. Curious to learn what she sought, he waited, and saw her take the crumbs up from the cleared space and lay them, one by one, on the snow. After doing this she retired behind the shrubs to await further developments. This was repeated on two occasions."

In further proof of the fact that Pussy possesses a wonderful power of forethought, Prof. Romanes tells this story as coming from a correspondent:

"While a paraffine lamp was being filled, some of the oil fell upon the back of our Cat, and was afterward ignited by a cinder falling upon it from the fire. The Cat, with her back in a blaze, in an instant made for the door, which happened to be open, and sped up the street about a hundred yards, where she plunged into the village watering-trough, and extinguished the blaze. The trough had eight or nine inches of water, and Puss was in the habit of seeing the fire put out with water every night. The latter point is important, as it shows the data of observation on which the animal reasoned."

Another correspondent, after describing a Cat and parrot in their amiable relationship, proceeds to the following narration:

"One evening there was no one in the kitchen. Cook had gone upstairs and left a bowl of dough to raise by the fire. Shortly after the Cat rushed up after her, mewing and making what signs she could for her to go downstairs, when she jumped up and seized her apron and tried to drag her down. As she was in such a state of excitement, cook went and found Polly shrieking, calling out, flapping her wings and struggling violently, up to her knees in dough and stuck quite fast.

"No doubt if she had not been rescued she would have sunk in the morass and been smothered."

Mr. Belshaw, writing to "Nature," says: "I was sitting in one of the rooms of a friend's house the first evening there, and on hearing a loud knock at the front door, was told not to heed it, as it was only the kitten asking for admission. Not believing it, I watched for myself, and very soon saw the kitten jump onto the door, hang on by one leg, and with the other forepaw right through the knocker, rap twice."

As being of general interest, I take the following explanation of the common theory that the Cat has nine lives, from "Zoological Recreations," by William J. Broderip, F.R.S.:

"The expostulating tabby in 'Gay's Fables' says to the old beldame:

"The Cat probably owes this reputation to a nine-fold vitality, not only to its extraordinary endurance of violence and its recovery from injury, which frequently leaves it for dead, but also to the belief that a witch was empowered to take on her a Cat's body nine times."

In demonstrating the finer sensibilities of the feline race, Prof. Wood says:

"Some Cats appear to have a strong sense of honor, and will resist almost every temptation when they are placed in a position of trust. Still, some temptations appear so powerful that the honorable feelings cannot resist them. For example, one Cat would resist every lure, except a piece of fried sole, another could never withstand the allurements of a little jug of milk or bottled stout. She would have boldly averted her head from the same liquids if they were placed in a basin or saucer, but the little jug, in which she could just dip her paw, and lick it possessed irresistible fascination for her. And as other examples, I have known several cats who possessed a strong taste for fermented liquors, and I have seen one of these creatures eat a piece of bread, soaked in pure brandy, and beg earnestly for a further supply."