There is yet another peculiar feeling respecting cats--namely, the strange antipathy which some persons entertain towards them, and is equally unassailable with that of superstition. Of course, in many instances, illness and weak indulgence, have greatly increased it, but in some cases, it has been, unconsciously harboured, and in others unconquerable. A friend of mine told me, that through life this feeling had accompanied him, in spite of every endeavour made to eradicate it. When a little boy he awoke one night, with that trembling and cold perspiration which always assailed him when a cat was in his vicinity; and, screaming for help, he intreated the servant who entered to take away the cat which was in the room. The man searched, but found no traces of puss. His young master still persisted she was there, but a renewed search proved equally unavailing, nor could he compose himself to rest unless the servant remained in the room till he was asleep. This accomplished, the man left him, and a second time my friend awoke in the same manner, with the same appeals for assistance. They were obeyed; he himself joined in the search, and he dragged out a cat from the close stove (for it was in Germany) which had taken refuge there, and been wholly unperceived by the man servant. This gentleman's daughter inherited the same antipathy, and neither the tenderest feelings towards other "dumb creatures," or the strongest efforts of a mind of unusual strength, could subdue the uncomfortable and distressing sensation which thrilled through her when a cat was in her presence. Where every house has a cat, many two, where every female cat, at least twice in each year, brings forth a litter of from three to five kittens, which are not all drowned, some idea may be formed of the untellable number of cats in London; but it is only the dwellers in what is called a quiet out-of-the-way street in the metropolis, who can form any notion of the noise and caterwaulings of this part of the population. All cats, on first taking possession with their owners, of a house, are obliged to enter into an alliance, offensive and defensive, with the older inhabitants of the neighbourhood. In some instances the amicable arrangements, though less noisy, are the most troublesome, of which I was convinced in one of my dwellings. The back overlooked a number of gardens, some of which were large, and to enjoy these sufficiently, a small, leaded terrace was thrown out from the back drawing-room window. Here all the cats of all the gardens, the street, and the opposite square, used to hold their _conversazione_; and I presume, that my cats were particularly amiable, for often, if the drawing-room window had been left open during our absence, we found a select few, perhaps five or six, sitting within its precincts, as if in friendly talk.