CATS AND CAT-LORE.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2217, 19 January 1904, Page 2

CATS AND CAT-LORE.

A weird noise broke upon the stilly night. It sounded, like the taint wail of a babe in pain, then rose crescendo into the well-de-fined caterwaul of a Thomas cat with a powerful alto voice. There came -an answering high soprano wail, and Uie nightly duet was ou. Loveson Ahta, the poet, put down his pen, pushed his hands through hi.-j abundant hair, drew a little harder-at his pipe, and went to the window to guzai out into the moonlight that bathed in its effulgence the pretty village of Dingle in the Myrtles. “I hate cats,” he said. “Confound 'em. Confound all oatir —alway—cats of all colors, black, white, gray; by night a nuisance, and by day—confound the oats! Here, 1 come to t his bowery Eden bubbling over with joy at the thought of escaping from the ceaseless roar and rattle of the city, to be disturbed by cats! Why, their nohso is more destructive to inspiration, more trying to the nerves than the clanging of a hundred trolley cars. No, the comparison won’t do. There is a certain fascination, a strange, wild, stirring harmony in the diapason of the city's hum, and in the ‘singing’ of the rushing trolleys. Whereas cats Fie ceased with a gesture indicating that words failed him in which to express his opinion of the offending felines. Mrs. Loveson Ahta, who, while making a pretense of working at some embroidery, had been rocking herself in contented- indolence and watching the changing expression on her husband's handsome face as he wrestled with the. muse, laughed the little rippling laugh that was one oi her many charm's, and that from the very first time he had heard it had always been the sweetest music to his ears. ‘‘Well, it can’t be helped,” she said. "Let Hercules himself do what he may, the cat will mew.’ ” “There are such things as guns, and airguns at that. By Jove, a happy thought! j i'll get one. They say you can kill a cat ] with an airgtm at 1 don’t know how many yards.” “Fie! you wouldn't hurt poor harmless, necessary pussy! Besides, you forget, dear, that a cat has nine lives.” "Oh, no. I won’t do a thing to poor pussy. I>id you ever hear anything like it in your life?” Loveson Ahta put his fingers in his ears and gazed desperately around for a miaaile. "And then,” continued his wife, “if you were to shoot a cat you would be filled with remorse and haunted by a ghostly tabby for the rest of your days. Didn I 1 see you release a struggling fly trom that sticky paper Nora, keeps in the kitchen "They are no good, anyway, ’ persisted the poet, with growing wrath. “They ought as a public nuisance to be exterminated. “They catch mice.” "Not as well as a mousetrap. Audi they are cruel and treacherous. They don't kill their prey right off, as other and self-re-specting animals do. but needs itrctsA wvwke sport of it and subject it to the refinement of torture. And they are that deceitful and capricious you never know how to lake them —just like women. Soinelnidy saye somewhere that if a cat has nine lives, a woman has nine cats’ lives.” “Oh!” “That is, of course, other women. You are not like other women.” “What do you know about other women, pray?” demanded Airs. Loveson Ahta with a suspicion of asperity and flushing slightly. “Nothing, nothing, of course, from personal experience, my dear. But they have the reputation. It’s a well-known fact.” “Oh, is it? Indeed!” “Y r e«. and as 1 ara saying,” went on the poet, evasively, "they are. no good, they are utterly worthless, they are lit for nothing on earth —the cat*, I mean.” “Well, manufacturers make muffs and boas and all kinds of tilings with t'heskins.” “Do they? Then I'm glad to know the brutes serve some useful purpose—when they -re dead. Now a dog—” “Never mind about dogs. We are talking about cats, and my purpose i* to prove that they are good for something.” “Yes, I’ve heard of it raining cate and dogs." "In some parts of France theji eat cate!” "Peuh! ” “You needn’t look incredulous—they do. They coll them ‘gibier de la rue’—street game—-and in a stew you wouldn’t know the difference between a cat and a rabbit.” “You have tasted it? “Oh, no,” denied Mrs. Loveson Ahta, hastily. “At least not to ray knowledge; but I’ve read about it. ’ "Then they are principally useful ns a dainty to tickle the palates of some French epicure*, I take it. I can’t imagine anymore ways than those you have enumerated in which they can render service to mankind.” “They are useful as timepieces.” “What!” t "I am perfectly serious. In China they 1 serve as very handy clocks. It’s this way: The eyeball of a cat contracts constantly from dawn until noon, at which hour it is merely a thin horizontal line. From noon 1 the eyeball gradually dilates until it reaches full expansion at sundown. So that in places where there are no clocks or dials or where there are dials and the day is cloudy a Chinaman just picks up a cat and learns the hour by looking at its eyes. “I had no idea that you had made a special study of cat lore, but there’s no use talking, you Vassal’ graduates known everything under the sun.” "Cats have still another virtue. Rheumatism can be cured by rubbing the af feeted part with a ginger-colored pussy,” “You ar.ea veritable encyclopaedia, dear.” "That is nothing. ,1 have lots of taler,t* you haven’t yet discovered. However, that will do for the present, and it now behoove* you—the duet having terminated—to sit right down and indite an ode to the Cat of Cats.” "Srroid'es to a cat—catastrophes. I can't do it; but .1 will dash off rhapsodic stall' zas ad libitum to the most adorable little champion who ever defended the cause of 1 cats.” —N. Y. Times. A Toast In Tante, "A’ man usually makes a fool of himself when he responds to a toast.” rani (he i old gentleman in gray, “but the other night I at a farewell dinner given in honor of two -M; fx-feuds of mine who were about to take o, L . "-Jding honeymoon trip, 1 heard a, golden v... ~ " t •**!’ Wt'Sctd my cars, the neatest toast that . > * **- »■»•>« “The toast was to 1 lie Bride, ■* ll - 0 is a (foe -did lady, gentle and lovable. The sp-calTbr «u* all knew to have been an old lover of hers. In fact, he is yet. "He simply arose, cleared his throat, looked around, while we waited expectantly and ‘the bride* blushed and then said; •The Bride —Mrs. King—the Queen—God Bless Her!’ “Then we clinked our glasses, drank our wine, laughed and cheered, while ’the bride Wu*hed rosier rivtc ever like 4 eckc#! ff’tL Vm