I am of opinion that cats differ as much in character as human beings do; and, like human beings, their character is very much to be predi cated from their countenances. No two are ever seen alike, and they vary as much in the conformation of their skulls as do the different races of mankind. Southey, in his "Doctor," gives a curious chapter upon the cats of his acquaintance-a chapter in which humour and natural history are agreeably mingled together; he was evidently a close observer of the habits of poor puss, and took much delight in the whims, frolics, and peculiarities of his favourites. Gilbert White, in his "Natural History of Selborne," records an instance of a cat who suckled a young hare, who followed her about the garden, and came jumping to her call of affection. The Rev. Mr. Sawley, of Elford, near Lichfield, once took the young ones out of a hare which was shot. They were alive, and the cat, who had lately lost her own kittens, carried them off-it was supposed to eat them; but it soon appeared that it was affection and not hunger that actuated her, as she suckled them and brought them up as their mother. a family to rear under these distressing circum- | she carried out her plan, and how pertinaciously stances, and half-a-dozen mouths to provide for she adhered to it, we have seen. without the aid of the cat's-meat-man or the milkwoman. How she manages to get through the difficult undertaking is more than we can explain categorically; but the following sample of maternal anxiety, prudence, and knowledge of the world in a cat, may serve to throw some light upon the business. A friend, whose avocations call him early to the city, was lately making his morning toilet, when he observed the abandoned cat of a neighbour, who had removed some time before, stealthily surmounting his garden-wall. She carried a kitten in her mouth; and, finding the back door open, flew past the servant, darted into the house, ran up-stairs, and deposited the kitten on the soft rug before the parlour fire, retreating immediately without beat of drum. The kitten, on examination, was found half dead with cold and hunger, and almost in the last stage of existence. It was, of course, fed with a little warm milk, and encouraged to get well if it could. A few days effected a wonderful change, and within a week it was as well and as playful as kittens generally are. In a fortnight it had grown quite stout and strong; and then (mirabile dictu), at the same hour in the morning, the mother re-appeared in precisely the same way, with another sick and starved infant in her mouth, which also she deposited in the same way upon the rug. Then, driving the first and now fat kitten before her, the two descended to the garden. But now there was a difficulty to be got over, which puss, with all her forethought, had not anticipated. The first visitor had grown so fat and heavy that the mother could not carry it in her mouth; and yet it was not strong enough to leap to the top of the garden-wall. Happily the dust-bin presented a half-way station; but even this was too high a leap for the kitten, who appeared unwilling to make the attempt. Twenty times at least did the mother jump up and down, to show the youngster how it was to be done. At last the kitten plucked up courage and made an effort, which only succeeded at length by the mother's taking her station on the top and seizing it by the neck as it leaped to meet her. Thus the two got clear off and never again made their appearance. The second kitten, like the first, soon grew strong and frolicsome, and was left in the enjoyment of its comfortable home without further visit from the parent. It is not difficult to imagine the circumstances which drove the mother cat, in this instance (for the truth of which I am in a condition to vouch), to these extraordinary proceedings. We know that she had herself been accustomed to an in-door life, and no doubt the recollection of the warmth, and comfort, and regular feeding she had there enjoyed prompted her to secure such a position for her sick offspring. We may fairly suppose, as she did not come again, that some of her family (for cats rarely have so few as two kittens) had perished from cold and hardship before she had recourse to the step she took to preserve the remaining two. She must have known, too, and in her way reasoned upon it, that housekeepers keep but one cat, and that it was necessary to remove the first in order to secure the safety of the second. How cleverly Cats may be trained to obedience and to regular habits by those who choose to take the necessary pains. We have seen a cat sit at table, spectacles on nose, apparently reading a big volume, and occasionally turning over the leaves with all the gravity of a philosopher. Some time ago—it may be ten years-a man appeared in London with an exhibition of cats, four of which drew him about the room in a small chariot. They were introduced to the public as "Tibby, Tabby, Tottle, and Tott," and possessed various accomplishments, which some of our readers may possibly have witnessed. In France, the cat (puss is a word unknown there) plays a prominent part in the shops of fashion frequented by the ladies. She has a cushion on the counter, where she sits, or lies coiled up, all day long, soothed by the caresses of the customers waiting their turn to be served. She is a pampered idol, fond of sweetmeats, and grows to an enormous size, the bigger the better and the more creditable to the establishment. There, too, she is an article of commerce, and is bred and reared for the market-a fine cat being a necessary appendage to a well-furnished house. In But I must cut off my cats' tales, lest I be accused of a design upon the reader's patience, while my real design is upon his compassion. vindicating the claims of a persecuted race to more merciful consideration, I have brought them for ward that they might speak for themselves. The essence of their united appeals may be summed up in three words, "JUSTICE TO Puss!" A THOUGHT FOR THE THOUGHTFUL.-When you look through a red glass, the whole heavens seem bloody; but that is so refreshing and comfortable to behold. When through pure uncoloured glass, yon receive the clear light sin unpardoned is between, and we look on God through that, we can perceive nothing but anger and enmity in his countenance; but make Christ once the medium, our pure Redeemer, and through him, as clear transparent glass, the beams of God's favourable countenance shine in upon the soul. The Father cannot look upon his well-beloved Son, but graciously and pleasingly. Take Christ out, all is ter rible; interpose him, all is full of peace.-Leighton. they saw of robes, and coronets, and plumes, of and her confessor, a Franciscan friar, whose mortiglittering armour and fair faces, neither distinctly fying piety never permitted him to touch soap and remembered; but as the clock chimed noon on the water. Through what low and miry places does high church of Cracow, the Polish banner was un-worldly ambition often lead its votaries! Emerich furled. The president of the diet, followed by all the deputies, came out, leading a pale, serious-looking young man, whom he presented to the people, while four heralds stationed at the cardinal points proclaimed, that "the most puissant, the most august, most illustrious Prince Sigismund of Sweden was duly elected by the free votes of the Sarmatian Diet, King of Great and Little Poland, of Upper and Lower Lithuania, of Livonia, Courland, and the Cossacks." A shout went up of "God save king Sigismund!" There was a crash of trumpets and cymbals, the cannon thundered in all the camps, answering thunders rolled from the ramparts of Cracow, and the election was over. "Now we will see our daughter," said Eustachia, as she busied herself in some preparations of their poor tent. "I wonder Michael has not returned! Where can he be ?" While she spoke, the tent was filled with men of the Polish watch, who, crying, "Haste! haste! we will have no pest people here," seized on Justin and his wife, hurried them into a great wagon, in spite of their asseverations that the plague had not been at Kieydany that year, and, commanding two men who had charge of the oxen to drive at the peril of their lives, the door was fastened and they were driven far and fast on the great road to Lithuania. The roads of Poland were in those times mere beaten ways leading through plain and forest, and divided into stages by solitary hostels which afforded shelter rather than accommodation to travellers. From hostel to hostel the pair were hurried on, ill provided with necessaries and allowed little rest, so that Justin was quite broken down, and Eustachia was exhausted, when the wagoners left them at their own hoff gate in the grey of a summer morning. Their own wagon, their travelling goods, and their faithful Michael, had been left behind; and the only explanation they had obtained from their rude escort, two Gallician peasants, was that "somebody, doubtless a great prince or bishop, had told the chief of the watch, whose duty it was to keep Vola clear of all disease and disorder, that the plague was in their tent, and he had ordered them to be sent home immediately, and all their travelling goods to be burned"-that being the rule on such occasions. The men evidently believed that there was a truer cause for their expulsion, but they were unquestioning instruments of power. The feudal system, which yet prevails in the north, was the constitution of Poland in those days. The whole country, excepting some chartered towns, belonged to its noble families, the remaining millions being their serfs, whose moral and social condition was fully expressed by the peasant proverb, "What I drink is mine." In such a state of things it was easy to find a pretext for removing the father and mother from a scene where their conscientious scruples or parental influence might interfere with great men's designs. Emerich Dolenski did not do it himself; but he suffered it to be done by the bland-spoken governess almost hated his poor brother and sister-in-law for not being found more compliant, and was secretly enraged at his niece for retaining any vestige of affection for her parents. All that cunning and experience could suggest had been done to estrange the girl's mind from them. Surrounded by splendour, told continually of her noble relations and magnificent prospects, their names were seldom mentioned in her hearing. Their letters were almost entirely suppressed, her own gifts and kindly letters to her mother were superseded by the chilly notes which had often saddened Eustachia, and no insinuation was spared that could make Anna regard them and their faith as a disgrace. These efforts had not succeeded. Indeed, the girl's wouldbe instructors never dreamed how very little they had effected. Under a gay but gentle manner, and a most docile disposition, Anna possessed a more than ordinary understanding, an unobtrusive love of truth, and a singular constancy of mind. On this account the vanities of the court and the pomps of the Romish ritual took less hold on her youth than they would have done on a character less sound and true. Partially seeing through their frivolousness and falsehood, the young girl accepted them only because she had no better guidance, and never believed implicitly in either priest or gover ness. Besides, careless as her parents had been before she left their home, Anna's childhood was not altogether untaught. Snatches of hymns and texts of scripture yet remained in the girl's mind, bound up with the loving remembrance of her mother. She had promised herself to do great things for her parents, having already perceived that uncle Emerich was not as kind as he might have been, and felt deeply disappointed when she was told that they had gone away without so much as taking leave of her. In that dense gathering her parents had been so far removed in rank and locality from the heiress of Lyszczynski, that she had no opportunity of knowing the truth, and none of the retainers dared to undeceive her. 66 Surely they not love me, or they would not have done so," thought Anna; but little time was given her for reflection. Joust, banquet, and dance succeeded each other in the camps of the princes, and in all the festivities it was contrived that Anna should have a prominent part, till on the arrival of intelligence that queen Catherine was dangerously ill at Stockholm, the gaieties were suddenly closed, the field was emptied of its thousands, and she was sent to comfort her royal play-mate the prin cess Anna. There was no lack of gentlewomen, pages, and an armed guard on that journey; but all the way it was remarked that an old peasant, with a military uprightness of carriage and irongrey hair, kept in the wake of the lady Anna's escort. His appearance much disquieted its nominal commander, count Sigismund Dolenski, as they now called Emerich's son, whom his confessors had succeeded in making a superstitious, feeble-minded youth; for he was sure the old man was a sorcerer. Sorcery and witchcraft were prevalent beliefs of the age; but count Sigismund's terrors on those subjects were laughed at by all the younger courtiers, and served to amuse Anna and her train on their dreary journey, which was made overland, through provinces now Russian, but then divided between Poland and Sweden, till at the entrance of Stockholm the old man was lost sight of, and the news which met them absorbed all attention. Queen Catherine, the strength and trust of the northern Romanists, was fast nearing that bourne where royal crown and priestly power avail not. The court was consequently in great agitation, not with grieffor through a long life of serving the Jesuits and maintaining court etiquette, Catherine Jagellon had given little cause for regret at her departure but her dependants trembled for their posts. Covetous men of all parties intrigued to obtain them, and the Jesuits endeavoured to get as large bequests as possible from the dying queen. As for Anna, she found her friend less troubled than terrified. The queen had always looked coldly on her youngest child, for not being what she called devout otherwise, superstitious. More grave and timid than Anna Dolenski, from the mixture of monastic discipline and state ceremonial in which she had been brought up, the young princess was not less clear of understanding or keen to perceive, and the remnants of her companion's early education had been imparted to her in the course of their intimacy. Notwithstanding palace etiquette, a sincere and confiding friendship had grown between the girls. No one suspected of what subjects they spoke; but now the princess had need of a friend to talk with, for a strange horror darkened the death-bed of her mother. In spite of two chantries founded expressly for the repose of her soul-in spite of costly gifts to every shrine of note, from Rome to Kiof-in spite even of a large annuity just bequeathed to the Jesuit college in Cracow-queen Catherine was haunted by terrors of purgatory which would not be soothed away. The most able comforters of his order had been sent for to assist father Warszewicki in allaying her fears, but their consolations were so blended with the power of the church, the necessity of masses, and the danger of leaving one thought unconfessed, that the unhappy woman became more terrified than ever. Miserable comforters indeed in such an hour must all human remedies be; for faith in the atoning sacrifice of the crucified One can alone give solid peace to the troubled soul. Her son and husband were absent settling the affairs of the new kingdom and the right of succession. Within and without the palace all were occupied with their peculiar interests, except the princess Anna, who grieved for her mother's state, and father Warszewicki, because certain Dominicans were taking the opportunity to insinuate that the queen's confessor must be deficient in spiritual management. "I have been thinking, Anna, that the preachers whom our Swedish people go to hear in the old churches of the town might do my mother some good, though they are called heretics," said the princess to her friend, as they stood alone in the great gallery leading to the queen's chamber. "If you come with me," continued the timid girl, "I will ask her to send for one of them." Anna Dolenski had no hope in the effort, but she replied by taking her friend's hand, and they glided together into the sick-room. The night watchers had left that bleak though stately chamber, for it was early in the summer day, and unknown to the young girls the queen had sent for her confessor. The tapestried walls, the floor thickly strewn with branches of the spruce fir, and the great bed hung with crimson velvet, had a chilly and gloomy effect, especially when it was known by the traditions of the palace that no less than eleven queens had died in that chamber. Anna They heard queen Catherine moan under the golden fringe and crimson velvet; but, as the princess' hand was raised to draw the curtain, her courage failed, and she stepped behind the huge tent-like bed to recover her composure. involuntarily did the same, and at that moment the confessor entered. He shut the door carefully, as if assured there was no one there but himself and the dying queen. The heavy drapery completely concealed the girls from his view; but Anna's quick eye perceived signs of impatience unusual in the composed countenance of the Jesuit. The first impulse of both was to step out and unfold their errand, but fear of father Warszewicki kept them quiet. He had already drawn the curtain, and they heard queen Catherine say, in a faint broken voice: " Father, I have sent for you thus early, because I have been troubled all night with sinful doubts concerning the masses that are to be said for my soul. If they should be neglected, or "-and her voice sunk still lower-"if, as the heretics say, they should be useless." "These are sinful thoughts, my daughter," said the confessor. "Whenever they occur, you should repeat an act of faith." 66 66 Oh father, I cannot," cried the queen. fearful place of expiation still rises before me--I dream of its horrid fire. Can you and all the priests do nothing more for me ?" There was a moment's pause, and the girls distinctly heard father Warszewicki say, in a deep whisper: "Madame, trouble yourself and me no more on this matter. Purgatory is but a fable invented for the ignorant" Then came a gasping sound, as if one tried to speak but could not. The confessor sprang to the door, sounded the silver whistle, which served as a bell in those days, and retired along the gallery. By the time a few careless attendants arrived, the princess Anna was chafing the damp hands of her mother, who seemed to be in a fit of catalepsy; the chief physician was summoned, and by his efforts she recovered some degree of strength, but never consciousness. Her eyes wandered wildly from face to face, her speech was broken and incoherent. At sunset, extreme unction was administered, and at midnight queen Catherine died, but the last words she was heard to utter were, "A fable invented for the ignorant! What then is true?" The palace was hung with black. The monks and friars assembled to chant the dirge, and the court mourning was made ready, but there seemed no grief except with the now orphan princess. In her sorrow she refused to see priest or confessor, gentlewoman or governess, and would speak with no one but Anna Dolenski and a poor friar who had laboured long in Lapland as a missionary, and was grievously suspected of being a Lutheran. This was thought very strange; but wonders did not end there. While a contention between the Jesuits and the Dominicans for command of the royal obsequies engaged the attention of the governesses, both grave and gay, the pages of the palace remarked that an old man, much like him who had marched with the train from Poland, was introduced by the suspected friar and conversed long with Lady Anna in the princess's apartments. Stranger still, on the morning after queen Catherine's funeral, the heiress of Lyszczynski was nowhere to be found. Search was made in every quarter, a courier was sent express to her uncle at Cracow, and count Sigismund almost rejoiced in the confirmation of his belief that the old man was a sorcerer. We have said it was a long way between the court of Stockholm and the Lithuanian hoff, and a far different scene was the Baltic town with its gothic towers and churches, from the level plain, in the midst of which rose the rustic spires of Kieydany. Travellers who explored that plain to the north and eastward met with pine woods and marshes, but on the south and west it was one wide stretch of corn and pasture land to the banks of the Niemen. Great oaks and pines towered up among the corn-the solitary survivors of a forgotten forest. Small lakes glistened among the pastures, where herds of the long-horned Polish cattle and half-wild horses grazed, and herdsmen pitched their summer tents beside them. The tall trees had caught a tinge of gold upon their topmost boughs. There was a gleam of sickles among the yellow corn, for summer was waning fast into harvest, and reapers were abroad throughout Lithuania, among fields whose early ripened though scanty sheaves were already half cut down; and hard by a little lake, planted round with fir trees, in which the herons roosted, stood the old hoff of doctor Robertus. It was a square fabric built of pine logs, with a roof of thatch and clay now thickly covered with grapes and ground-ivy; a low but massive fence, also log-built, with a strong timber gate, inclosed the dwelling and its dependencies. In its principal apartment, a long room with lattice-work windows, carved oaken stools and tables, a rush-covered floor, and a hearth of tiles, on which the evening fire was lighted, sat the poor parents of Anna Dolenski. Their servants were all busy in the fields, and much was the trusty hand of Michael missed among them. For Justin had been so sorely shaken by that forced journey that he was unable to attend as usual to crop or field. The harvest brought them little cheer or comfort. Perplexed and almost broken-hearted, they knew not what to do or think concerning Emerich and their daughter. Sometimes Justin talked of going to Cracow on his recovery, and demanding justice, but the impracticability of that step was well known to Eustachia. The sun was sloping to the westward, for it was far in the afternoon: there was silence without and within the old hoff. Worn out with talking and thinking of their troubles, Justin had dropped into a sort of doze on the bench where he sat, and Eustachia twirled her distaff slowly, for her thoughts were not on the wool she spun. Suddenly there came a sound of horses' feet at full speed. They stopped at the gate, she saw it flung open by the hand of their own Michael. His mistress was at the door in an instant, but a young girl in a poor peasant habit, who had sprung from the second horse, rushed into her arms, crying, "Mother, dear mother, I am come to stay with you, and never go back to those cunning deceivers!" What tears of joy did the father and mother shed over their child, thus restored to them; and what a wondrous tale was unfolded of providential working, even through the craft and tyranny of men! The expulsion of his master and mistress from the field of Vola, under what Michael knew to be a false pretext, had incited the shrewd and faithful servant to follow their daughter all the way to Stockholm, in hopes, as he said, of "letting her know what sort of people she lived among," which, by means of the suspected friar, who had been born in Lithuania, Michael succeeded in doing, but not till she and the young princess, by what seemed the merest accident, heard the impatient Jesuit make that avowal to the dying queen which changed the whole current of her daughter's inward life; for ever after her mother's death princess Anna was known to the whole court as a Lutheran. Nor could the utmost efforts of her brother, the bigoted Sigismund, shake the firmness of her faith, which she verified in the sight of men by a most virtuous life. Well Readers, the incident of queen Catherine's death-bed is no fiction. The Swedish historian Puffendorf records it amongst other facts of those contending times. As for the Dolenskis, they lived in peace at the old hoff. Prince Chris topher the palatine took them under his special protection, at the request of the princess Anna, who never forgot the friend of her early days, though she ceased to be called the heiress of Lyszczynski; for Anna Dolenski read her father's bible and chose her father's faith, much to the indignation of her uncle and prince Vladislav. The latter, indeed, struck her name out of his testament, and for some time before his death was supposed to be divided in his choice of an heir between count Ludowic Zamoisky and Emerich's son. informed people said the latter had never been thought of by prince Vladislav; but queen Catherine's confessor performed a signal act of service to his order, by persuading the grasping Emerich that if his son had only sufficient fortune of his own to make a princely appearance, the old man would certainly prefer him. The bait was too well gilded for the scheming cunning courtier to resist. He immediately settled the gatherings of his many crafty years on count Sigismund; and that superstitious son gave proof of his training by immediately devoting himself and his father's substance to the new Jesuit convent established in Cracow, six months after the election with which our tale began. Finding himself thus cheated, Emerich had recourse to law; but, as might be expected, the suit went against him, and the holy brotherhood had sufficient influence to get him dismissed from all his offices, and banished the court. Respected by no party, and stripped of everything, for which he had sacrificed honour and conscience, the old man wandered about in poverty, and died unlamented-a striking example of the hollowness of a life devoted to the world and unsustained by principle. |