Elihu Vedder’s pets might be expected to wear a rather tragic and noble air, appropriate to the illustrations of the Rubaiyat; but on the contrary, they have a commonplace appearance of well-being. The studio pet one year was an asthmatic small dog, who had thrown himself upon the artist’s compassion--a grateful, subdued, unassuming object, which, after each spasm of coughing, would look around with a deprecatory expression, as if to apologize for the disturbance. Some intelligent cats, and another small dog, in this instance possessed of vivacious health and spirits, keep the artist’s home lively, and compete with one another for his favor. A third studio in Rome is that of the sculptor Story. Many famous statues have here been “born in clay and resurrected in marble”--among them that of George Peabody. The marble is now in London, but a colossal plaster-cast remains in the studio. The philanthropist is seated--a position which allows various projections, or ledges, within the hollow cast--of which a high-minded cat once took advantage. [Illustration: ENTRANCE AND WINDOW OF THE SCULPTOR EZEKIEL’S STUDIO IN ROME.] Before reading further, look at her picture. Is she not very much like some dainty young lady in ball-dress? See how deftly she has disposed her train, how fastidiously she glances over her shoulder! A cat of distinction--that is evident at the first glance! She came originally from Walton-on-Thames, in England, was a present to Mrs. Story, and, in memory of the donor, named Lady Tankerville. Having an artistic bias, she chose the studio in preference to boudoir life, and was oftenest to be found there. After a while she was known to be the proud mother of kittens, but where she kept them remained a mystery until several weeks later, when they were found in--of all places!--the head of George Peabody. It was a delightfully retired situation, and probably there never were happier kittens. As an instance of post-mortem philanthropy, it is, I am convinced, unequalled. [Illustration: BIMBO, ONE OF THE SCULPTOR STORY’S PETS.] A fine pug called Bimbo must be added to the favorites that have gone before. A spoiled but intelligent darling, he sits up for his picture on a velvet chair, with an air of snug contentment quite irresistible. His mistress holds him in loving memory; and, since his death, contents herself with a bisque “puggery,” whose inmates, if liable to breakage, are nevertheless more easily replaced.