I think many of the miseries which the "harmless necessary cat" has to endure in this wicked world of hers and ours would be mitigated if not entirely removed, were we only to take the trouble to study and consider what a wonderfully reasoning and sensible little thing she is. "Leave the study to old maids," I think I hear some manly (?) reader exclaim. But why to old maids? It is you who are unkind to pussy, and regardless of her comforts, and not old maids. And indeed, indeed now, I never for the life of me could see why any stigma should attach itself to an old maid any more than to a cat. Most of the old maids I have known were very agreeable persons indeed, and I've spent many a quiet and enjoyable hour with old maids over a cup of homely tea. My two maternal aunts are old maids, they even plead guilty to the soft impeachment, but cheerier bodies you wouldn't meet anywhere. They go three times to the kirk on a Sunday, to be sure, and wouldn't cook a meal on that sacred day for a world. But just see them on a week-day, look at their bright smiling faces--what odds if they do try to appear a few years younger?--and ah! just see them go through the intricate figures of the mazy Reel o' Tulloch, and hear them crack their thumbs, and cry "hooch!" you wouldn't say old-maidendom was so very dreary after that. It isn't always a woman's fault if she can't get married: many, whose early affections have been blighted, would not marry if they could, for haven't they got a posy somewhere, a locket with a face, a lock of hair, and a faded ribbon which erst was bonny blue--relics of lost love, around which cling sweetest memories of the past? Besides, have not unmarried ladies more opportunities to taste the sweets of doing good, and, better still, more time to cherish hopes of happiness hereafter, which are worth a world of wedded bliss? Cats then, like old maids, are fifty times worse than they are painted, and the reason why people don't like them is because they don't understand them. I have at this moment a large and beautiful tabby, and I positively rejoice that that cat is so fierce to everyone but me, because before I got her she was subjected to the most barbarous treatment, neither fed, nor housed, nor watered, and I believe I was the first person from whom she ever got a word of kindness. No wonder that at first she did not understand my meaning. But she does now, though she never will be tame; but if I am asleep she mounts guard on the table near me, and her purring chant is speedily turned into a low, ominous growl if any one but touches the handle of the door. Does she know that I am asleep, and that one in sleep is helpless as regards defence? I'm sure she does, for--