traits. Mr. Warner says: "I never had but one cat, and he was rather a
friend and companion than a cat. When he departed this life I did not
care to do as many men do when their partners die, take a 'second.'" The
sketch of him in that delightful book is vouched for as correct.

Mr. Edmund Clarence Stedman, too, is a genuine admirer of cats and
evidently knows how to appreciate them at their true value. At his home
near New York, he and Mrs. Stedman have one who rejoices in the name
"Babylon," having originated in Babylon, Long Island. He is a fine large
maltese, and attracted a great deal of attention at the New York Cat
Show in 1895. "We look upon him as an important member of our family,"
says Mrs. Stedman, "and think he knows as much as any of us. He despises
our two other cats, but he is very fond of human beings and makes
friends readily with strangers. He is always present at the family
dinner table at meal-time and expects to have his share handed to him
carefully. He has a favorite corner in the study and has superintended a
great deal of literary work." Mrs. Stedman's long-haired, blue Kelpie
took a prize in the show of '95.

Gail Hamilton was naturally a lover of cats, although in her crowded
life there was not much time to devote to them. In the last year of her
noble life she wrote to a friend as follows: "My two hands were eager to
lighten the burden-bearing of a burdened world--but the brush fell from
my hand. Now I can only sit in a nook of November sunshine, playing with
two little black and white kittens. Well, I never before had time to
play with kittens as much as I wished, and when I come outdoors and see
them bounding toward me in long, light leaps, I am glad that they leap
toward me and not away from me, little soft, fierce sparks of infinite
energy holding a mystery of their own as inscrutable as life. And I
remember that with all our high art, the common daily sun searches a man