“But thousands die without or this or that—
Die and endow a college or a Cat.”
The latter case, however, is rather rare I should think. When Pussy’s good master and mistress die, the wide world is often enough left for it to roam in at its will, seeking its living as it can—a wide world full of cruel kicks and cuffs. Justin’s Cat was lucky to die of old age in a good home, and have such a fine epitaph written over his remains:—
Worn out with age and dire disease, a Cat,
Friendly to all save wicked mouse and rat,
I’m sent at last to ford the Stygian lake,
And to the infernal coast a voyage make.
Me Proserpine received, and smiling said,
“Be bless’d within these mansions of the dead;
Enjoy among thy velvet-footed loves,
Elysium’s sunny banks and shady groves.”
“But if I’ve well deserved (O gracious Queen)—
If patient under suffering I have been,
Grant me at least one night to visit home again,
Once more to see my home and mistress dear,
And purr these grateful accents in her ear.
‘Thy faithful Cat, thy poor departed slave,
Still loves her mistress e’en beyond the grave.’”
Stray Cats, I am afraid, have a bad time of it before they find a new home. Cats were recently said to be in great demand at Lucerne, in Switzerland, and to be selling at a high price, in consequence of a malady which had greatly thinned their numbers. According to the account in the newspaper, the head of the animal swelled rapidly; the Cat refused all nourishment, and very soon dropped down dead.
It is true, that in some quarters of the globe, the feline race is still held of some value. Vide Lady Duff Gordon’s Article in Macmillan’s Magazine, which gives us a glimpse of a strange superstition in Thebes. She says:—
“Do you remember the German story of the lad who travelled ‘um das gruseln zu lernen’ (to learn how to tremble)? Well, I who never ‘gruselte’ (quaked) before, had a touch of it a few mornings ago. I was sitting here quietly drinking tea, and four or five men were present, when a Cat came to the door. I called ‘bis! bis!’ and offered milk; but puss, after looking at us, ran away.
“‘Well, dost thou, Lady,’ said a quiet sensible man, a merchant here, ‘to be kind to the Cat, for I daresay he gets little enough at home; his father, poor man, cannot cook for his children every day;’ and then in an explanatory tone to the company: ‘That’s Alee Nasseeree’s boy, Yussuf; it must be Yussuf, because his fellow-twin, Ismaeen, is with his uncle at Negadeh.’
“‘Mir gruselte’ (I shuddered), I confess; not but what I have heard things almost as absurd from gentlemen and ladies in Europe, but an ‘extravagance’ in a kuftan has quite a different effect from one in a tail-coat.
“‘What! My butcher-boy who brings the meat—a Cat?’ I gasped.
“‘To be sure, and he knows well where to look for a bit of good cookery, you see. All twins go out as Cats at night, if they go to sleep hungry; and their own bodies lie at home like dead, meanwhile, but no one must touch them or they would die. When they grow up to ten or twelve they leave it off. Why, your own boy, Achmet, does it. Ho, Achmet!’