'I have heard in our schoolroom,' went on the Cat, 'that you sate on the shoulder of Pallas, and she told you all about it.'
'And what would you know, oh, my daughter?' said the Owl.
'Everything,' said the Cat, 'everything. First of all, how to be happy.'
'Mice content you not, my child, even as they content not me,' said the Owl. 'It is good.'
'Mice, indeed!' said the Cat; 'no, Parlour Cats don't eat mice. I have better than mice, and no trouble to get it; but I want something more.'
'The body's meat is provided. You would now fill your soul.'
'I want to improve,' said the Cat. 'I want something to do. I want to find out what the creatures call my duty.'
'You would learn how to employ those happy hours of your leisure—rather how to make them happy by a worthy use. Meditate, oh Cat! meditate! meditate!'
'That is the very thing,' said she. 'Meditate! that is what I like above all things. Only I want to know how: I want something to meditate about. Tell me, Owl, and I will bless you every hour of the day as I sit by the parlour fire.'
'I will tell you,' answered the Owl, 'what I have been thinking of ever since the moon changed. You shall take it home with you and think about it too; and the next full moon you shall come again to me; we will compare our conclusions.'