_Tom_ the _Cat_, being rejoiced at his releasement, exerted himself that night in the greatest inactivity, according to the philosophic dream of _bis inertiæ_. For he slept heartily and had several pleasant dreams, which _Artemidorus_ never dreamed of, as we do not find one of them in his collection of dreams. His fellow servant lately discharged, had ever since her quarrel fell enamoured of _Tom_’s beauty, and consequently resolved to wheedle him away the first opportunity she could lay hold of. _Tom_, she knew would follow her all over the world, and she thought it was a thousand pities, so fine a fellow as _Tom_ should spend his days with so despicable a wretch as her late mistress, to which species of women, I think they give the common name of a _Brimstone_, and others tack that of a dog’s wife to it. _Tom_ was now a quarter old, being born on the 21st of _December_ 1751, whence some think he was called _Tom_: However, as his mistress _Clotilda_ was a Methodist, we can give no credit to this surmise. Though he was but three months of age, yet was he gigantic in his stature, being at this age as large, as some old full-grown Cats. His make was of the athletic; his shoulders were brawny, and his hinder parts resembling those of the tyger, but in nothing more did his beauty consist, than in the exteriour, which strikes first, and which saved him from being drowned; for he was beautifully variegated in colour like the leopard, neither two much streaked, nor too much spotted, but finely intermingled on a milk-white ground, the streaks and spots justly proportioned in the most admirable symmetry: His belly and breast were immaculate as the swans, which greatly heightened the characteristic beauty of his face, which looked like that of a fine woman, when she adds half a dozen small patches, disposed with art in such a manner, as to impart an additional strength to each charm. His eyes, which were of the sapphire, had an unspeakable tenderness, mixed with a masculine significancy, and the other appurtenances of his face, his whiskers long and short were of an elegant projection. His constant play-fellow, his tail was of the serpentine spiral, sometimes he would curl it, and then it bore a near resemblance to the streamer of a man of war when the breezes curl it, at the top-mast head. It was _tipt_ with _silver_, like a _verger_, when he introduces one into a pew of the Cathedral. His mien and carriage were stately, august, and solemn, except when he ran, and then neither the _Hind_ nor the _Panther_ could vie with him in fleetness.