morning."

And again: "When I am told that Agrippina is disobedient, ungrateful,
cold-hearted, perverse, stupid, treacherous, and cruel, I no longer
strive to check the torrent of abuse. I know that Buffon said all this,
and much more, about cats, and that people have gone on repeating it
ever since, principally because these spirited little beasts have
remained just what it pleased Providence to make them, have preserved
their primitive freedom through centuries of effete and demoralizing
civilization. Why, I wonder, should a great many good men and women
cherish an unreasonable grudge against one animal because it does not
chance to possess the precise qualities of another? 'My dog fetches my
slippers for me every night,' said a friend, triumphantly, not long ago.
'He puts them first to warm by the fire, and then brings them over to my
chair, wagging his tail, and as proud as Punch. Would your cat do as
much for you, I'd like to know?' Assuredly not. If I waited for
Agrippina to fetch me shoes or slippers, I should have no other resource
save to join as speedily as possible one of the barefooted religious
orders of Italy. But after all, fetching slippers is not the whole duty
of domestic pets.

"As for curiosity, that vice which the Abbe Galiani held to be unknown
to animals, but which the more astute Voltaire detected in every little
dog that he saw peering out of the window of its master's coach, it is
the ruling passion of the feline breast. A closet door left ajar, a box
with half-closed lid, an open bureau drawer,--these are the objects that
fill a cat with the liveliest interest and delight. Agrippina watches
breathlessly the unfastening of a parcel, and tries to hasten matters by
clutching actively at the string. When its contents are shown to her,
she examines them gravely, and then, with a sigh of relief, settles down