How vividly, among the events of our boyish days, do we remember the "strange cat" that got into the lumber-room at the top of the house! Our elder brother and "the boy" had endeavoured to dislodge the animal, which figured in their description as a thing of intense blackness and monstrous dimensions, with great frightful staring green eyes, horrid long claws, and such a tail! Not "frightened of cats" were we, for we had a favourite one of our own; but _this_--it trebled in magnitude and horror the wildest and most savage inhabitants of the then Exeter Change. Their own fears had magnified the "strange cat" into a monster; and then they wilfully enlarged the picture to terrify _us_--a feat, in which they succeeded, as we dared not go to the upper rooms alone. For two or three days this "reign of terror" lasted; when, a favourable opportunity being watched for, the "young master" and the "young man" marched up, broom and brush in hand, to hunt out this strange secreted intruder--the black tiger of the upper wilderness. As for our tiny self, we had ventured a part of the way up-stairs to witness the result, imagining that the enemy would make its exit by an attic window. Oh horror! A loud knocking was heard above; a tremendous shouting next arose, succeeded instantly by an appalling cry of "Here it comes!" This was, shall we say _enough_?--it was too much; we turned and _flew_ down-stairs--the last "flight" of stairs being, with the aid of the handrail, but one leap. The street door! No, we could not open it. Against it then we set our back in an agony of fear, and uttered a cry that would have terrified a whole legion of cats. The hunters were in full cry. Down came the wild animal, followed by brooms and brushes, bounding and rattling over the stairs--a clatter that rent the roof. What saw we then? Not a poor half-starved _frightened_ animal leaping over the banisters to get out of _our_ way, and to escape through the garden-door; no, of this piteous, this actual spectacle we saw nothing,--but in its place--_this_! [Illustration] This little "tail-piece" expanded to the dimensions of a full-sized Newfoundland dog, surrounded by a blaze of fire, will convey some idea of what, in the extremity of our apprehensions, we actually did see. [Illustration] A SHORT CRUISE AT MARGATE. Being at Margate the other day, we strolled, in company with "THE OLD SAILOR," down to the "Jetty," where we were accosted by the veteran Hemptage, a boatman of the old school, who, with a salute, inquired "Will you take a trip this morning, Sir?" "Not if it blows," answered the Old Sailor, assuming as much as possible the look and manners of a landsman, "I have made up my mind never to go sailing if there's a breath of wind." The old man gave him a look, which spoke as plainly as look could--"Here's a precious lubber, to talk of sailing without wind." "It would be on possible to move a-head and no breeze, Sir."