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easily traversed under the guidance of the unerring instinct claimed for animals, we must believe them to have wandered away and established themselves elsewhere, or to have fallen victims to the dangers which beset them during prolonged absence from home and deprivation of food and shelter. The term "stray cat," so often heard, points either to a suspicion that the animal in question may be actually lost, or that it is not endowed with any strong feeling of attachment for a familiar locality, in fact, that it is indifferent whether it returns to its former home or not, which, however, is contrary to all experience The following letter from a correspondent of the Field, of 8th June, 1878, throws light on the subject that is worth preserving: 'Like most dwellers in the suburbs of London, I have at various times in my life been terribly annoyed by cats, and, while quite willing, for the sake of neighbourly good feeling, to put up with a good deal in this way, my 'semi-detached' was in possession of a perfect demon of a cat-a cat that was not only mischievous in itself, but the cause of a nightly gathering of mischief in my back garden. Not only were my nights made hideous, but nothing that came within this cat's reach in the daytime was safe, and its doom was fixed by the following incident: One summer afternoon, the children's rabbits were playing on the grass plat, when this demon rushed in among the poor frightened things, took one of them by the ears, and started off home with it on its shoulders. Of course, a hue-andcry was raised, and poor Bunny's life spared; but I secretly determined to have that cat's blood, and acted accordingly. Perhaps about a week-certainly not more-had elapsed, when one of my children ran from the garden to say that W— cat had come back again. I must here say that Master Pussy was only supposed to have gone astray, and that no one suspected a brutal murder had been commited. On receiving this information, I gently strolled down the garden, and found poor pussy's place of sepulture undisturbed. I was now curious to get a sight of returned Tommy, and in a day or two my wish was gratified. I had the best of reasons for knowing that it was

-'s

not the same cat; but I was staggered at the resemblance, and no longer wondered at the welcome the supposed prodigal had received. It was an ordinary striped 'tabby' cat, and to this day my old neighbour is firm in the faith that it was the very animal he lost a week before! I have no hesitation in saying that this true story will account for scores of the marvellous tales we read about Master Tommy. They are simply cases of 'personation.' Attracted by the smell of 'cat,' the stray animal came upon my neighbour's premises, and, being welcomed by the children, and also finding a 'vacant chair,' adopted the new home like the good, sensible cat he turned out to be, and lived happily for ever afterwards. The lucky coincidence of colour set aside all other difficulties, if there were any; and the cat slayer held his peace. Since the case above narrated I have been troubled with many cats, but have grown wiser; and my mode of dealing with vicious cats now is to send them for a short excursion from 'home'-say two miles—and in no instance have they ever returned.-S. M."

"Personation," as here described, may very probably sometimes occur with cats, among whom, especially the striped tabbies, there is now and then a most minute resemblance of every detail of marking; but I do not think it possible with dogs, whose individuality may be distinguished in every movement and expression. While no one can prove a negative, many people can easily spread one of these stories, which is passed from mouth to mouth, gathering as it goes, until a small substratum of fact becomes a mountain of fiction. In this form, it is hopeless to attempt to demolish it. Whenever I hear one of these veritable histories narrated, I ask first "Was it your cat?" The answer nine times out of ten amounts to this, "No;. but A., on whose word I can confidently rely, told it me exactly as he heard it from his intimate friend B., a lady of considerable ability and very fond of animals, who knew the cat perfectly well from seeing it frequently at a house in the village, where she gathered all the particulars from the people who took the house after the owner of the cat moved. They were much

surprised to see the cat come in one day about a month afterwards and take up its quarters at once, and go mewing about as if it knew the place well, and, besides some of the neighbours recognised it at once as the little tabby that used to belong to the Smiths, who have gone to live at ten miles off. And I can assure you," &c. This happens to be one of the samples in my note-book, and many a change could be rung on it.

It is usually most difficult to establish the first essential point, the identity of the cat; and if we can attain that with reasonable certainty, a host of other difficulties and doubts present themselves. One may at the outset dismiss, as not worth inquiry, any case where the narrator, whether at first or secondhand, becomes annoyed at cross-examination. When a person cannot distinguish between your implied doubt of his knowledge and an attack on his veracity, that person's habits of mind are assuredly not calculated to inspire confidence in his capacity to make accurate observations on his own account, or faithfully to convey those of others on a point in natural history, surrounded by so many difficulties. On the other hand, a steady cross-examination, when submitted to by the examiner in a spirit of anxiety to arrive at the truth of the matter under inquiry, will place us in a position to determine whether it is possible to reach the facts and then found some conclusion on them. I must, however, remark that even this elementary form of the scientific spirit is not, in my experience, commonly met with; whence it becomes a tedious, and too often an abortive, effort to clear away the palpable rubbish and the manifold uncertainties which encumber stories so easily told or repeated by persons devoid of any critical capacity, and even unsuspicious of the treacherous character of their own memory. In cross-examination these weaknesses come out, accompanied by irritable asseveration of the narrator's credibility. It is then best to pass to some irrelevant remark on the state of the weather, and leave that interesting story to be told to a more confiding auditor.

While I guard against committing myself to any assertion of

the invariable untrustworthiness of these accounts, I cannot but be impressed with the readiness with which they crumble to pieces on examination. No one, of course, will dispute that cats have, on what appears to be very strong evidence, made some remarkable journeys, and, so far as we know, without any assistance. Thus I should deem a journey of even five miles remarkable, though it is not at all beyond possibility that the cat had made excursions on its own affairs to that distance from home in more than one direction, and would be acquainted with the way there and back. Still, in a number of something more than seventy of these accounts, I find only one alleging the distance to be over two miles, which can be accepted as trustworthy, irrespective of any question of distance.

This was told me by an old sporting companion, who in all things within his own knowledge was an accurate observer and conscientious narrator; but this was unfortunately a secondhand narrative. An acquaintance of his, living near Sunderland, had a male cat, which had been condemned to death, after fruitless efforts to domesticate it, at a distance of five or six miles from home. It had returned more than once, if my memory serves me. Finally, one of the servants was charged with the task of disposing of it, and he carried it in a bag to Sunderland Bridge, whence he threw it from the bag into the water-a height of about a hundred feet-and walked leisurely home, in the conviction that the affair was at last settled. On arriving, he was much astonished to find Tom sitting before the fire, licking himself dry, apparently none the worse for his ducking. The neighbours hearing of this, of course regarded the cat as charmed." The incident seems to me to prove simply that the animal had a fortunate escape, and went straight away home over ground which it had probably often explored; Sunderland was not the populous place forty years ago that it is now. After this fruitless attempt to destroy him, Tom

received a ticket-of-leave for the rest of his life.

Whatever credence we may be disposed to give any particular story of this kind, there is no escape from the results of the

Intelligence of Cats.

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method of direct experiment by "transportation," and unless in all these instances the cats are remarkably unfortunate, their failure to return is almost a conclusive answer to the wonderful stories we hear from time to time.

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Passing from the supernatural to the natural-the closest observers are inclined to assign a low degree of intelligence to the cat. Perhaps few would rate its mental faculties as high as those of the horse, while I myself, without a moment's hesitation, consider it unworthy to be named in this respect with the pig. Usually poor piggy, although termed by courtesy a domesticated" animal, has no opportunity of showing his quality; he is brought up solely with a view to prospective ham or bacon. Shudder not, gentle reader; keep a pet pig and judge for yourself. Let not the lip of pussy's master or mistress curl with scorn at the suggestion of any comparison between the occupant of the hearthrug and of the sty. The poor cat can only mew, and pur, and "spit." The pig "grunts."

True, that is the popular belief, and it is supposed to sum up all possible knowledge of his vocal organs. Now, in piggy's voice there is, to those who listen with knowledge, a gamut of the passions and affections scarcely less expressive than that of the dog, and to this corresponds a nature capable of attachment and docility beyond the belief of those who have never seen the animal except at the feeding trough, or in the more picturesque surroundings of autumn woodlands, gathering acorns and beechmast. It is of no consequence whether the story of the "learned pig" be true or not; it serves the purpose of pointing out how much we have lost by dooming this interesting animal to a life of gluttony and seclusion, and it is also unfortunate that he is physically unfit to take his place beside the cat and the dog as one of our domestic companions. Were this not so, his sobriety of manner, his amiable disposition, and, above all, his high intelligence, would be excellent recommendations for a place in the household.

Enthusiastic admirers of cats go to greater lengths, perhaps, than any other devotees to their pets in recording stories of