Lo! the cage is empty. There is blood on the bars and a few feathers scattered about. In the silent hours of the night, the unfortunate bird has been dragged piecemeal through the bars of the cage by the cruel talons of that harmless looking Tom, who has comfortably slept off the effects of his meal, and now comes up purring and rubbing his head against the legs of the afflicted children, in brutal unconsciousness of having done anything amiss.

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From the 'vantage ground of my window I witnessed many a battle royal,” and have always wondered how either of the combatants came out of the contest alive. These encounters are indeed terrible, carried on as they are with such formidable weapons, wielded with such immense strength. Much skill is displayed in the approach, and in fencing for an opening. The rigid body, raised high on the fore legs, moves forward slowly, almost with chameleon-like deliberation, the hind legs doubled under it, the ears laid back, the head partially turned aside, and the tail curved downwards. For many minutes in succession the strangest contortions of the body may be maintained without the motion of a muscle, the faces of the combatants almost touching, each watchful for the least advantage in the coming struggle, which seems never about to begin.

I have not been able to ascertain what actually determines the first blow, though the battle may be precipitated by throwing a glass of water over the animals. In an instant they are rolling over and over, locked in a fast embrace, gnawing each other's heads, while holding on with their fore paws, and trying to disembowel each other with their hind legs. The business is too serious for much noise. The continuous stifled growl and the flying fur betoken the severity of the struggle. It cannot last long, for the whole of the nervous and muscular force is being strained to its utmost. The separation is instantaneous, and for several minutes they will stand motionless and breathless, waiting for the renewal of the battle. I have seen two cats thus engaged for upwards of half an hour, with short intervals of rest. Perhaps each may secretly desire

The Battles of Cats.

4I

to retreat with honour, but neither dares let the other know it. A few cautious sidelong movements, still on the defensive, indicate this. It is amusing to note sometimes how studiously they pretend not to observe these tactics of the opponent, and again how they will simulate the desire for retreat or feign inattention in order to draw the enemy into an unguarded attack. This is a common cause of another tussle.

On one occasion I saw a fine piece of strategy practised. One cat had evidently had the best of it, and stood over the vanquished. By and by, he turned slowly and marched leisurely towards a wall, looking round occasionally to see that he was not followed, and making for his own premises. Not a hair did the other cat move until the retreating victor stooped to jump up the wall. Then, like an arrow released from a bow, he sprang after it, covering four or five yards in a couple of bounds, and struck his claws into his late opponent's head and his teeth into his neck. They both came to the ground, but the advantage thus gained turned the tables, and in a few moments the first victor lay maimed and gasping on the gravel walk. Then the conqueror sat down, viewing his work with satisfaction, and now and again licking his bloody paws. What the end of it may have been I do not know, for the barking of a dog startled the combatants, and they separated. I have seen hundreds of battles, but never saw one cat kill another right out. While sitting one summer evening in a friend's house, I heard a scuffle and jumped up to ascertain the cause. In the hall was a strange cat, just come in, no doubt, at the open door, in the clutches o the two house cats-a tom and a female. The affair could have lasted only a few seconds when the stranger ceased to make any show of resistance. In that short time they had killed it. The unfortunate intruder was torn all over and covered with blood. One eye was destroyed, the lower part of the abdomen was ripped open, and the bowels protruding. No dog could have done the work quicker. As I stood looking at the quivering body, the other cats walked about purring with their tails up in the manner significant of feline

satisfaction. On skinning the head I found sufficient evidence of the cause of death. In several places the fangs had gone through the skull into the brain, showing what terrible injuries these animals are capable of inflicting with their wide jaws, actuated by such powerful muscles.

So far as my observation goes, when cat meets cat upon a wall, unless one is much the stronger, there is seldom a fight. Probably they dare not risk a fall in which one would be certain to gain an advantage. But there they crouch, watching each other's movements, to the accompaniment of such music as we are wont to hear on moonlight nights. They will maintain this attitude for an almost incredible time-an hour frequently-and gradually edge off in opposite directions. This has impressed me with a favourable opinion of their powers of attention. During the whole time there is high muscular and nervous tension, and concentration of suspended energy on the object before them.

Only on one occasion have I seen a fight begun in circumstances of danger to the combatants from a fall. The struggle took place on the roof of a house, and almost immediately they began to roll down the slates, at the edge of which they would have been precipitated forty feet into the street. It was an anxious yet interesting moment for me; one of them was a next door neighbour-a notable black cat-his antagonist being a huge sandy fellow. The amalgamated ball of black and sandy fur rolled down the roof, apparently to certain destruction; but, on the very verge of the slates, it resolved itself into its constituent elements, and each cat clawed its way back to the ridge of the building.

The said black cat, my next door neighbour, was of very moderate size, but, without exception, the most redoubtable warrior I ever knew. Lying on a rustic table in his own garden, in a sunny and well-sheltered spot, he could command a view of the premises, without exposing himself to observation. As soon as an intruder dropped over his wall, and walked unsuspiciously down the gravel path, did my black friend pounce upon him

success.

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from the table; or, jumping on the wall, steal quietly along and drop suddenly on his victim from that advantageous height, always with disastrous consequences for the intruder. During a year or so, he waged continual war on all comers, with uniform Not content with defending his own castle, this Don Quixote went abroad, redressing wrongs in knightly fashion for all one can tell; but, certainly, when things were dull at home, he invaded the dominions of the old woman with the seventeen cats-of whom all that were males must surely have experienced his prowess. It needs scarcely be said that all this told upon the hero. White patches began to appear on that once velvet black coat; honourable scars, no doubt, betokening the severity of many a battle, and his ears were in ribbons. In the spring of the year, a hectic cough could be heard from the rustic table in the garden-the beginning of the end. Still, I saw no abatement of fighting power, though by this time he had become as thin as a hurdle. For a day or two, the garden table had no occupant. Then I called and inquired whether "the Don" was ill. He had come in after a prolonged fight with a large tabby, drunk some water, and died in the night, before the kitchen fire. The owner told me that this cat came to be fed pretty regularly, very seldom slept in the house, even in winter, attached himself to nobody, and accepted, as a matter of course, whatever was done for him.

I have dwelt somewhat at length, and perhaps tediously, on this phase of feline life, because it well illustrates the savage nature and the really untamed character of these animals, which, by a mere euphemism, we call "domesticated." Grievously offended, possibly, some readers may feel, and may be ready to overwhelm me with examples of docility and attachment among their favourites. Neither to myself are the virtues of the cat unknown or unappreciated. I do not forget that it has been an associate of man for more than 2000 years; that it has been venerated in an extraordinary degree by the people of one of the oldest known civilisations, who shaved their eyebrows and went into mourning at its death, embalmed its carcase with

all honour, decided important affairs on the auguries drawn from its unearthly yowlings, and even sacrificed human life in expiation of the sin of killing it.*

With all these advantages, it is surprising that it has advanced so little, that, with few individual exceptions, it remains in all its characteristics an unreclaimed savage. Quite unlike the dog, it is incapable of appreciating fun. We cannot play long, or in the least roughly, though unintentionally so, with a cat, but out come those tenter hooks, as if it were either unconscious of their power or indifferent to the pain they inflict. Whereas the dog will endure infinite annoyance and suffer positive torture, rather than close his teeth in anger on the hand he loves.

This ineradicable ferocity might be intelligible if we were continually renewing our domestic breeds with wild blood. But this is not so. In all probability-almost certainly-the cat sitting at our fireside is the direct descendant of hundreds of generations of ancestors, which have been in close companionship with man, and probably of the Egyptian domestic animal. It is, at all events, not any longer matter of dispute that the European wild cat has no claim to be the ancestor of our tame species. On the other hand, the great variety of colour and marking points to a mixed origin; and, as in the larger felida, we have striped, spotted, tawny, black, and even white examples. The pretty little rubiginous cat of India, whose body is about 13in. long, exhibits stripes which have become broken up into spots on the sides and flanks, and the aspect of the face recalls that of many of our cats. It may, indeed, not unlikely be one of their common progenitors.

The variations of colour under domestication might be expected to be as capricious as they actually are. There is, too,

a sexual determination towards certain colours, though this is not absolute. Thus, a real tortoiseshell will almost always be a female, and a sandy or red tabby will pretty certainly prove to

*The Egyptians.