There are many old superstitions regarding cats still extant, and many foolish notions about them, that had much better be unlearned. Sailors believe, that, if the ship’s cat be lost overboard, shipwreck, or some such disaster, is almost sure to follow. My own old captain, Commander McH—— was imbued with this notion, hence his extreme care to retain the black cat on board, as depicted in the tale, which follows this Chapter—“The Skipper’s Imp.”
Witches are supposed by some to be constantly attended by an evil spirit, in the shape of a black cat.
To dream of cats is considered very unlucky. In some of the more unfrequented districts of Scotland, the good folks are still very careful to shut up their cats in the house, on Hallowe’en, i.e., the 31st of October. And they tell me, that those cats that have managed to escape incarceration, that night may be seen, by those brave enough to look, scampering over hill and dell, and across the lonely moors, each one ridden by a brownie, a bogle, a spunkie, or some other infernal jockey, in fact, a devil’s own steeplechase. And, they say, those cats never produce young again; or, if they do, the sooner the kittens are put out of sight the better; they are subject to startings in their sleep—no wonder—have a weird unearthly look about their eyes, and soon pine away, and die, and go—we shudder to say whither.
Cats are supposed to be capital prognosticators of the weather. If a cat is seen washing her face with more than usual assiduity, it is going to be stormy; and if pussy sits much with her back to the fire, you may expect frost and snow in winter, and thunder and lightning, with hail, in summer. Some portion of pussy’s person seems, indeed, to retain the power of foretelling the weather, even after death, as witness that common toy, which poor people use instead of a barometer, a wee wee man, and a wee wee woman, living together in a wee wee house; one of them pops out every day; if the day is to be fine, the lady comes, if not, like a loving wife, she sends her good man out—the secret is, the little couple are suspended on catgut, which twists or untwists according to the state of the atmosphere.
LONG-HAIRED BLACK.
First Prize—Owned by Miss Armitage.
MANX.
First Prize—Owned by P. Williams, Esq.
There is a very common popular fallacy, regarding cats sucking an infant’s breath, and killing it. The idea is simply preposterous. Cats, being extremely fond of children, naturally like to get into the cradle, to lie beside, and watch them. They often crouch upon the child’s breast; this may impede breathing more or less, according to the relative size of the cat to the baby. If the cat actually sits upon the child’s face, then indeed the poor creature may be suffocated. But such an occurrence is so very rare, that it is hardly worth mentioning. Many more deaths occur from bad arrangement of a baby’s pillow, in which case the mother must be glad when there is a cat to put the blame upon.