We cannot conclude this notice without congratulating the editor and his numerous coadjutors, on the satisfactory manner in which these volumes have been prepared for publication, and on the success that has attended the undertaking. [The life of John Robinson of Leyden is more strictly a portion of American than of English history, and its suitable exhibition demands the best abilities that can be summoned to such service in this country, where, hitherto, the popular declamation of Puritan celebrations, it must be confessed, has evinced but a superficial acquaintance with Puritan intelligence, doctrine, or character.] FOOTNOTES: [18] The works of John Robinson, Pastor of the Pilgrim Fathers; with a Memoir and Annotations. By Robert Ashton, Secretary of the Congregational Board, London. Three volumes. London; 1851. From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal. A CHAPTER ON CATS. The newspapers have recently been chronicling, as a fact provocative of especial wonder, the enterprise of some speculative merchant of New-York, who has just been dispatching a cargo of one hundred cats to the republic of New Granada, in which it would appear the race, owing, as we may believe, to the frequently disturbed state of the country, has become almost extinct. Your cat is a domestic animal, and naturally conservative in its tastes--averse, therefore, to uproar, and to all those given to change. Its propensities are to meditation and contemplative tranquillity, for which reason it has been held in reverence by nations of a similar staid and composed disposition, and has been the favorite companion and constant friend of grave philosophers and thoughtful students. By the ancient Egyptians cats were held in the highest esteem; and we learn from Diodorus Siculus, their "lives and safeties" were tendered more dearly than those of any other animal, whether biped or quadruped. "He who has voluntarily killed a consecrated animal," says this writer, "is punished with death; but if any one has even involuntarily killed a cat or an ibis, it is impossible for him to escape death: the mob drags him to it, treating him with every cruelty, and sometimes without waiting for judgment to be passed. This treatment inspires such terror, that, if any person happen to find one of these animals dead, he goes to a distance from it, and by his cries and groans indicates that he has found the animal dead. This superstition is so deeply rooted in the minds of the Egyptians, and the respect they bear these animals is so profound, that at the time when their king, Ptolemy, was not yet declared the friend of the Roman people--when they were paying all possible court to travellers from Italy, and their fears made them avoid every ground of accusation and every pretext for making war upon them--yet a Roman having killed a cat, the people rushed to his house, and neither the entreaties of the grandees, whom the king sent for the