we may think on the subject, the king of Guinea, once thought a cat so valuable that he gladly gave a man his weight in gold if he would procure him one, and with it an ointment to kill flies.

“A Portuguese, named Alphonse, was the happy individual; and he so well improved the money he made by the trade, that after fifteen years of traffic, he returned to Portugal, and became the third man in rank and wealth in the kingdom. All that for the despised cat.”

“O, I don’t despise them in their place!” urged the lady. “They are good to keep the cellar and out buildings free from those troublesome animals, rats and mice. But I never could make a pet of a cat.”

“Nor eat one, I suppose,” he added, roguishly.

“No, indeed,” with an expression of contempt.

“They are thought by some to make a delicious meal,” he went on with mock gravity. “A fricassee, for instance. Here is a recipe for the cooking:—

“Skin the cat thoroughly, cut it in pieces, and soak twenty-four hours in vinegar; then anoint it with garlic and honey, after which it is fried like a young chicken.”

“Horrible!” exclaimed Mrs. Belcher; while Mrs. Lee confessed, much as she esteemed cats, she could not relish such a meal.

“Is it possible they are ever used for such a purpose?” she inquired presently.

“Certainly, my dear; among the negroes they are considered a great dainty, and Gœthe, in his ‘Rifleman’s Comrade,’ said the soldiers at Palmero ate them with a relish.”

CHAPTER III.
PUSS AND THE PARTRIDGE.

A few days later, as Minnie sat watching Fidelle washing herself, licking her paws, and then putting them on her face and ears, her father drove into the yard, accompanied by a niece, who had come to make them a long visit.

Ida Morris was the daughter of Mr. Lee’s only sister. She was a lovely girl of fourteen, having long been the companion and especial charge of her widowed mother.

Mrs. Morris had now gone to Europe with her son, who was an invalid, and Ida had come to stay at her uncle’s until their return.

Minnie had not seen her cousin for a year; but she knew from her parents that Ida was frank and good tempered, and very fond of pets.

When she heard the carriage, therefore, she ran joyfully to meet and welcome her visitor.

Ida had grown very tall within the year, and this afternoon was exceedingly sad from the parting with her mother and brother, the latter of whom she might never see again; but when she felt Minnie’s soft hand pressed so lovingly in her own, and heard the eager tones of joy at her arrival, she felt comforted.

Wiping her tear-dimmed eyes, she said, “Uncle George has been telling me about your pets; and you, dear Minnie, shall be mine.”

Fidelle presently came and jumped in Ida’s lap, to the surprise of Mrs. Lee and Minnie.

“Why, here is the beautiful cat I saw last year,” cried the young girl; “can it be possible that she remembers me? You know I petted her a great deal.”

“I have no doubt that is the case,” answered her aunt; “otherwise I should be at a loss to account for her sudden fondness. She is usually very shy with strangers.”

Ida stroked the soft, silky hair, and seemed almost as much in love with the puss as Minnie herself was, while Fidelle purred and purred, and lovingly licked the hand that fondled her.

“Oh, cousin!” cried Minnie, her cheeks glowing with animation, “we do have such good times reading stories about birds and animals. We are reading about the cat now. Father says there is something in his books about every one of my pets.”

“I hope I may be a listener, then.”

“Oh, yes, indeed! While you are here, you are to be my ownty, downty sister, and I shall try to make you happy.”

Ida kissed her; then they adjourned to the dining hall, where they had been summoned to tea. Fidelle, knowing she was not allowed there at meal times, reluctantly remained behind.

In the evening, when the candles were lighted, Minnie begged her father to go on with the stories, to which he willingly consented; but first he said,—

“I suppose you know, Minnie, that the cat belongs to the same family as the lion, the tiger, the panther, the leopard, and several other wild animals. The tiger and cat are very similar in form and feature; they have the same rounded head and pointed ears; the long, lithe body, covered with fine, silky hair, often beautifully marked; the silent, stealthy step, occasioned by treading on the fleshy ball of the foot; the same sharp claws; the same large, lustrous eyes, capable, from the expansive power of the pupil, of seeing in the dark; the whiskered lip; the carnivorous teeth; and a tongue covered with bony prickers.

“In many of their habits, too, they are alike. In their natural state, they sleep a great part of the time, only rousing themselves when pressed by hunger. Then they are alike in lying in wait for their prey, not hunting it, like the wolf and dog; but after watching patiently for it, as I have often seen Fidelle watch for a mouse, they steal along with their supple joints and cushioned feet till within springing distance of their victims, when they dart upon them with an angry growl.

“Though cats are very plenty now, they were not always so. The Egyptians venerated cats, as a type of one of their gods. To slay a cat was death by law. When a cat died, the family to which it belonged mourned as for a child. It was carried to a consecrated house, embalmed, and wrapped in linen, and then buried with religious rites, at Bulastes, a city of Lower Egypt, being placed in a sepulchre near the altar of the principal temple.

“The Mohammedans have an extraordinary reverence for them; and a traveller, of whom I once read, saw at Damascus a hospital for cats, which was a large building walled around, and said to be full of them.

“This singular institution, well supported by public alms, originated in the fact that Mahomet brought a cat to Damascus, which he kept carefully in the sleeve of his gown, and fed with his own hands. He even preferred cutting off the sleeve of his robe, rather than to disturb the repose of his favorite, who had fallen asleep in it.

“I remember a curious story, which is told of Cambyses, a Persian general, who conquered Thebes by placing in front of the Persian army a corps of cats, giving to each of his soldiers, employed in the attack, instead of a buckler a live cat, and other animals venerated by the Egyptians.

“Not daring to advance upon these animals, the Theban garrison fell, as the wily Persian commander anticipated, an unresisting prey to his stratagem.”

“And do you remember,” said Mrs. Lee, to her husband, “that Moncrieff says an insult offered a cat by a Roman was the cause of an insurrection among the Egyptians?”

“Yes, and the same writer states that even