Subject to Vanity

by Margaret Benson

The four—papa and mamma and two kittens—used to proceed together to the mound near the pump, and Jenny then left them, to crouch in the bushes,—this for a purpose of her own.

Then began the game. Rector rolled the kittens over and played with them gently, until all three became a little excited; then, if Rector got carried away, and bit or scratched his infant till it squeaked, out bounced Jenny from the bushes to deal him a handsome box on the ear; and, having thus admonished her husband to take better care of the children, she retreated again to the shelter of the yew-trees.

If you keep a whole family, you will find that there is not only a parental, filial, brotherly, and sisterly relation, but also a grand-parental. When Midge had some white kittens, Jenny, whose under-bred offspring had been put out of the way shortly before, helped her to nurse them, with as much pride and perhaps more solicitude than Midge herself showed. It was a most charming scene. We went to see the family soon after the birth of the kittens, and found Midge, in the rôle of the interesting young mother, leaning back upon Jenny. Jenny put a paw round her, while they surveyed—the mother languidly and the grandmother proudly—the squirming white family.

But it is not cats only who have these strong domestic ties; almost every animal shows the same thing in a greater or less degree.

We inherited, on changing our home, a beautiful pair of swans. The first year that they became ours they had four cygnets, and brought them up extremely well. It is true that when they were full grown, the cock-swan, if one may use such an expression, tried to kill them; but that was only natural, they had become his rivals. They were variously disposed of: one was taken up to a pond in London, from which, not being properly pinioned, he escaped, and kept a cockney crowd for an hour well amused on London Bridge by flying over it and swimming under, after which he—or, as he could not possibly be caught, the abstract idea of him—was presented to the Thames Conservancy.

So far, this doesn’t seem to have much to do with the swan’s idea of home, but, as some candid preacher said, “You may think this has not got much to do with my text, but I’m coming to it presently.”

The swans lived on in peace and happiness through the autumn and winter, but in the spring, when they ought to have been nesting, some wicked boy hit the lady swan on the head with a stick, and she sickened and died.

For some time the widower was left solitary; then we thought this was rather cruel, and busied ourselves in getting a mate for him; and a fine young swan was procured. When lo! it was found that the old fellow would not let his young companion come into the pond. We thought it would “wear off,” and left the young one to its fate; and many times we passed the pond to find the poor young thing squatting sadly on the road, and the widower swelling up and down.

Then we found there was a slight mistake, the young swan was a cock-swan also.

So we changed him, and got a real lady instead. This time he would just let his companion come into the pond, but oh! she had a bad time of it there; he pulled her feathers out, and he drove her away from the bread; but it had to be gone through,—it was his way of showing constancy, and it turned out all right. She is treated now with as much respect as his first wife.