It was lying upon the pillow of my bed one morning, when I took the creature off, and placed it upon as soft a place which had been made up in the cabin on purpose for it; but this would not do; it did not like the removal, and there was no termination to its peevish, fretful cries, until it was removed back to the old place, where being deposited, after licking itself about those parts of its furred coat that had been ruffled by handling, it stretched itself, and laid down quite contented. The squeaking, discontented noise of the creature during the night, when it is tied up, is very annoying. I suppose the desire of making nocturnal rambles, as is the nature of the tribe, was the cause to which the cries were to be attributed. At last I used to give it fowl bones at night to amuse itself, and being occupied in _crunching_ them, I was no more annoyed by its nocturnal cries. When fighting it uses the fore-paws, with extended claws, biting at the same time, retreating and advancing quickly, snapping, bristling up its long whiskers, and appearing a fierce object for one of the small animals of the creation. It does not spring at the object of attack like the cat, but jumps forward; it uses the claws of the fore-feet more than those of the hind, which, being both longer and sharper, are more calculated for the purpose of defence, as well as in climbing. It regards the object well previously to attack, exercising the three prominent organs in the feline race of _caution_, _secretiveness_, and _destruction_; and then, with its little angular mouth expanded, it pounces upon, and firmly grasps its prey. The little beast has a very morose looking countenance, what some people skilled in physiognomy would call a “_sour, forbidding countenance_;” and, judging from what I have seen of this tamed and young specimen, it must be, in the wild state, a very savage animal. Unlike the cat, when drinking it does not care about wetting its feet, for it often places the fore-paws in the water at the time. It often plays with its long tail, as well as with any thing that may be in the way, similar to what we observe in kittens; and often scratches against objects, growling at the same time, as if practising for future defence. It eats fowl readily, but not other kinds of meat so well; it ate some pine-apple with much avidity. It will carry away a bone given to it into a dark corner, growling and snapping at any one that may attempt to take it away. Sometimes, when left to itself, it utters such loud squeaking cries, as to be heard all over the ship. One day, at dinner time, (when the animal was first on board,) a noise was heard, from whence it proceeded, or from what, we could not tell, until the mystery was explained by the steward, who said it was “the foreign cat.”