By a Special Contributor.
Los Angeles Times Illustrated Magazine Section, March 12th,1899.

There are cats and cats, just as there are people and people. The general public’s idea of a cat is the ordinary little Maltese or the poor waif of the back fence that indulges in feline concerts with his comrades during the hours when most bipeds are wooing Morpheus, Such plebeian cats, are tolerated because they are good mousers, but they are rarely ever looked upon as pets. The recent cat show of blooded animals in Chicago, however, opened the eyes of the multitude, and has done, much toward stimulating an interest in the beautiful creatures which in ancient times were objects of veneration by the Egyptians.

Probably the best versed woman in cat lore in the United States is Mrs. Leland Norton of Chicago, whose famous Drexel Kennels on stately Drexel boulevard are not only the pride of their owner, but the envy of many less favored feminine mortals. In this way Mrs. Norton has gained a national reputation. It is nearly twenty years since she began to collect Angoras, Persians, Russians, and other fine species. She then lived in Cincinnati, but eight years ago she moved to Chicago. Owing to her efforts the science of pussyology has been developed among the best-known residents of Chicago, particularly through the Cat Club. This club was formed January 26, 1898, on a day memorable because of a blizzard that in no wise affected the enthusiasm of the prospective members. Mrs. Norton has been president of the club from the start.

The object of the organization is to encourage the raising of good stock; to bring up the market value of the animals; to give them definite classification, such as is enjoyed by horses and dogs; to secure better treatment for the ordinary house cat; to arrange ways and means for providing a refuge for homeless and stray cats, and to prepare, for cat shows. The constitution declares that with vouchers from two members of the club “Any man or woman interested in catology is eligible to membership.” Mr. Norton is also a lover of cats, and he believes that the intellectual capabilities and unassuming virtues of the domesticated branch or the feline species will be recognized in the future.

It is a delight to visit the home of the Nortons, which is not only handsome, but perfect in its arrangement, for its mistress is versed in something besides the new science of pussyology, namely the old science of home-making. When she comes down the broad stairway to greet a friend she is charmingly attired in a silk house gown that will shed hairs and lint. She is invariably accompanied by two white Angoras. The more handsome and dignified of the two is known as Tootsie Willard, who formerly belonged to Miss Prances Willard. When Miss Willard closed “Rest Cottage” at Evanston after the death of her mother, the pussycat was left in the care of Mrs. Norton. “Tootsie” enjoyed a visit from Miss Willard whenever she came to the city, and the picture presented herewith was taken especially for Miss Willard during her last illness.

Tootsie Willard is an orphan, for his pedigreed parents, as well as his brothers and sisters, are dead. He has coined more than $2000 for the temperance cause by the sale of his photographs. His picture hangs in hundreds of homes the world over; it graces the walls of Lady Henry Somerset, and can be seen in the humble hut of an Icelander. And yet, in spite of all this, Toots gets intoxicated! Yes, it is true, though he never imbibes anything stronger than the exquisite perfume of an English violet. However, the odor seems to electrify him, and he cries for them, nor can they be placed beyond his reach. With his big eyes aflame, and his splendid tail waving like a plume, he will bound onto the piano or mantel, and securing the violets will lie down on the floor and roll and purr with sensuous delight. He will gather the fragrant blossoms in his velvety paws, and cradle them under his chin, toss them in the air, roll upon them, and finally go to sleep with his nose luxuriously buried in the flowers.

He also has a penchant for carnations. It is related of him that one evening as the family sat reading at “Rest Cottage," Toots suddenly awoke from a blissful dream and beheld a bouquet of crimson carnations. In an instant he sprang on the table, and selected a stem having three blossoms. After he had played with it a few moments, Miss Willard, with an eye to economy took it away and gave him a single carnation. He was deeply offended, sniffed at it disdainfully, and then deliberately climbed on the table and again secured his first choice. Again it was taken away and again he recovered it. At the third test he meekly took the despised carnation in his mouth, bounded on the table and laid it on the bouquet, then triumphantly retired with his three blossomed stem.

It Is needless to say that Toots has been patriarch and king of the Drexel kennels ever since his arrival. Mrs. Norton avers that Tootsie vies with the old kings who feasted on the tongues of nightingales, in point of delicacy of appetite. When he opens his big, blue eyes in the morning he demands a bowl of rich cream, and about 10 o’clock he is ready for a little minced meat. The new leaves of the umbrella plant [a type of water reed] are another of his delicacies, and he will nibble a whole pot of the fresh grasses if he is not watched. When in good condition he weighs twenty, pounds.

“The Heavenly Twins” are two red Angoras that usually hold undisputed possession of the drawing-room. They take naps on the Turkish rugs, sharpen their claws on the upholstered chairs, and climb up the lace curtains. Mrs. Norton does not seem to resent any of these feline liberties, at least publicly; perhaps, like a wise woman she believes in private curtain lectures. These red Angoras are of a rare species —their fur is just the color of tho human hair that commands for its owner the nickname of “brick-top;” the real Titian shade. Of course, damage to furniture counts little to an enthusiastic student of cat nature.

As likely as not the best chair in the parlor is occupied by a kitten, whose big, baby-blue eyes blink in drowsy contentment. Black, white and red cats tumble down the stairs, leap to their places at the dining table, or curl up for a cat nap under the warm kitchen stove.

“Dixie” is another favorite. He is intelligent, affectionate and well trained. He knows all the tricks common among educated dogs. He jumps, retrieves and shakes hands, and he has one mania — he is bicycle mad. There is not a more enthusiastic wheelman in all Chicago. He will sit on Mrs. Norton's saddle for hours waiting for her to go out riding. This would attract so much attention he is seldom allowed to accompany her except after dark.

Mrs. Norton has a room downstairs devoted to the kennels. The back yard is all screened with wire netting so that none of the cats can run away. When one first enters the kennels he is impressed with the thought that surely the ghost of Dick Whittington's and all other spectral cats must haunt the place, which is an Elysium for all cat kind. In a spotless room, the bare walls of which are white and polished, are several tiers of boxes, each supplied with a downy pillow. There are crocks of water on the floor, and jars of cream stand on an ice chest, for none of the cats will eat common milk. The room is warm and light and some of the kennels are curtained for the benefit of the very young. There are towels, sponges and basins for morning ablutions. To be sure, aristocratic cats are not expected to cling to the barbaric method of licking themselves clean. Nature can, of course, do her best for ordinary common cats that cannot afford to use scented soap and contract laundry bills.

Mrs. Norton has just imported a fine pair of cream colored Persians, a pair of sable Angoras, a French red male Angora, which makes her kennels the most complete in this country. Today there are eight new litters of kittens basking in the love of the Norton household. One black Persian mother is very proud of her white babies. Part of last summer Mrs. Norton spent on the Coast looking up the cat question, preparatory to the exhibition.

There are other women besides Mrs. Norton who are interested in fine cats, as Mrs. Potter Palmer, Mrs. P. D. Armour, Miss Isham, Mrs. A. G. Spaulding, Mrs. Ambrose Thomas, Mrs. Clinton Locke, and last but not least, Ella Wheeler Wilcox. Ref, Bango, and Sampson are the names of the handsome thoroughbred Angoras owned by Mrs. Wilcox. Mme. Ref is something of an aristocrat, having come direct from Paris. These cats are the most privileged characters of the “Bungalow.” Nothing is sacred to them, not even the poet's corner. They chase one another over the manuscripts, never dreaming that their unholy little paws have rested upon words that will be read when they, like us, will long since have passed into oblivion.

There are some men, too, who are fond of cats. Says Charles Dudley Warner of his Calvin: “He has the most irreproachable morals I ever saw thrown away on a cat. . . . Calvin understands pretty much everything except the binomial theorem and the time down the cycloidal arc. ... I wish I knew as much about natural history as Calvin does, for he is the closest observer I ever saw, and there are few species of animals he has not analyzed. I think he has, to use a euphemism very applicable to him, got outside of every one of them, except the toad. To the toad he is entirely indifferent, but I presume he knows the toad is the most useful animal in the garden.”

But to cat-lovers the cleverest thing Mr. Warner has over written is the new commandment he has hurled at humanity: “Let us respect the cat.”

It is said that the high altitude of the coast locality affects the health of cats, but the fine specimens owned by Miss Pearl Libby of Pasadena certainly disproves such theories. "Van" is a pure white Angora from the Drexel kennels, Faust, a black Persian cat from Maine. The former is extremely dignified, and absolutely unresponsive to all advances made by a stranger. Sad to say, there is a decided animosity between the two cats, and Miss Libby often has to act as peacemaker. They are both beauties, however, and are very fond of their mistress. - Louise E. Dew.

Overland Monthly; April 1907; N.S. Vol. 49, P. 299.

TO borrow a commandment from the witty Charles Dudley Warner: "Let us respect the cat!" for that gentle, insinuating, soft-coated creature has, within the memory of the present generation [risen] from the servile condition of a back-alley feline sustaining his nine lives on ancient bones or subsisting on the charity of quiet spinsters, to the proud rank of a zealously guarded pet whose value is reckoned at the price of a modest home. From being regarded as a hoodoo and kicked off the rear porch, the cat has come to be the cherished pet of kings, one of whom, the sovereign of Great Britain, recently purchased a prize beauty for the modest sum of three thousand five hundred dollars. Royal Norton, whose fame reaches to the bounds of the world, has a recognized value of two thousand dollars, and many Californians, in whose State the cat farm is now proving worthy of mention among leading industries, have paid the sum of one hundred dollars for a fine Angora or Persian puss within the last year.

It was in 1871 that the cat, after centuries of dishonor, came again into his own, for it was in that year that the first exhibition of domestic cats was held in the Crystal Palace in London. Not since the ancient Egyptians deified the cat along with the crocodile, the bull and the asp, had the felis vulgaris been accorded so great a degree of respect. The Persians, following the Egyptians, worshiped the purring creatures, and tradition has it that a Persian army once went to battle against the Egyptians with cats before them in place of shields, whereupon the enemy became so struck with terror that there was a precipitate retreat. But the Greeks and the Romans had little respect for cats, and the nations that flourished after the barbaric hordes descended upon decaying Rome did not elevate them in general respect.

The introduction of the long-haired cats from Persia and Angora is responsible for the first great impetus in cat culture, while the insistent law of evolution has improved the original stock brought across the water to a degree that has rapidly increased their value. Growing appreciation of the foreigner's superior points has stimulated the market to an appreciable extent, and the advantages for cat farming offered by the equable temperature and abundant sunshine of California has made the cat-raising industry particularly attractive in this State.

America's interest in the marketable cat originated in Chicago, where Mrs. Leland Norton, owner of the famous Royal Norton, the prize-winner of the world, established kennels adjoining her fashionable Drexel Boulevard home not many years ago. Mrs. Norton secured two fine imported animals as household pets some years ago, and several years later decided to give some attention to cat-raising as an industry. The long-haired cat was then so rare in America that he was a curiosity, and distinguished personages from every profession, captains of industry and politicians, found a visit to the Drexel Kennels well worth their while. In time, the cat fanciers of the Lake City planned a cat show, which was quite as fashionable at that time as the horse show is to-day. The avenue turned out to view the fluffy pets, and the alley spared some of its circus money for the same purpose. The aristocracy of cats had been established. Felis vulgaris, in the parlance of the society editor, was no longer a "climber." He had "arrived."

Mrs. Norton was naturally chosen the first president of the Chicago Cat Club, mother of the hundreds of cat clubs which now flourish in America, and she remained its president for several seasons. Upon removing to California a few winters ago, she brought Royal Norton and a small family of pedigreed cats, and the California cat farm was brought to the attention of the wide world. All over the Golden State there are now maintained interesting, curious and profitable cat farms, and the California pussy is shipped from the Coast to the Far East, and even across the ocean. The cat show has become commoner than the time-honored chicken show of the county fair, and the long-haired Angora or Persian, with high ruff and a tail often sixteen inches across is king. At the annual cat show may be found, besides the usual Persians and Angoras, the odd Manx or tailless cat, cross-eyed cats, odd-eyed cats, civet cats, tamed wild cats, Mexican cats, Japanese cats, and Siamese cats, the last-named having a short coat and a tail which has a striking black tip.

It was at first regretted by catterers that the long-haired cat had attained a popularity greater than his brother, for the latter is rather delicate, and quite often is defective in sight or hearing. It was thought, therefore, that the purchasers of cats would be chary of paying fancy prices for stock that might live but a short time unless given the most watchful care. But such was not the case. The cat market improved steadily, and a man with well-filled pockets hesitates no longer about paying the price of a fine Angora than he does about taking a little flyer in stocks or putting his pocket money on the favorite horse. A Los Angeles woman purchased a fine white Persian cat a short time ago for eighty dollars. The day after the cat arrived, it reached out its paw for forbidden things, whereupon the owner boxed its ears in mild reproof. But Master Cat was high-spirited and resented the insult. He made a precipitate exit by way of the open front door, and has not been seen since in that neighborhood.

Probably the most celebrated cat in history was Miss Frances Willard's "Toots.” "Toots" was not his name in the beginning, for he was early christened "Gladstone." But that was before the great Englishman repudiated "Certain principles dear to the heart of the great temperance leader." When the "grand old man" fell from grace in the eyes of the white-ribboners, "Gladstone Willard" became "Toots Willard," and a veil was drawn over the sad history of his change of name. "Toot's" picture was sold all over the world for the benefit of the temperance cause, and it hangs in the humble cottager's abode even as far north as Iceland, and it also hangs beside storied canvasses in ducal palaces. "Toots" was white, and he had a passion for the perfume of violets and carnations.

Charles Dudley Warner's pet cat responded to the name "Calvin," and of Calvin he said: "He has the most irreproachable morals I ever saw thrown away on a cat" He further adds that he "understands pretty much everything except the binomial theorem and the time down the cycloidal arc." Continuing, he says: "I wish I knew as much about natural history as Calvin does, for he is the closest observer I ever saw, and there are few species of animals he has not analyzed. I think he has, to use a euphemism applicable to him, got outside of every one of them except the toad. To the toad he is entirely indifferent, but I presume he knows the toad is the most useful animal in the garden. His habits of observation have given him a trained mind and made him philosophical."

Agnes Repelier once consented to be interviewed on a subject which led her to make the following observations on the character of the cat: "One has to live up to esteem of one's cats - the creatures are so discriminating. A master can always win a dog's affections, but cats are different. You may own a cat and it may frankly and unmistakably dislike you. The person who feeds it cannot win regard for kind offices, for feeding makes no earthly difference to a cat. Cats have affection, but they discriminate in its bestowal. I think it needs a Frenchwoman to fully appreciate the airs and graces of a cat's nature. The idea that cats like places and not people is responsible for a lot of cruelty to numberless pussies. Cats do not mind leaving their own domains, providing they are not made to encounter noise and rudeness. Cats are extremely sensitive and dislike loud voices and bustling ways. They love repose, calmness and grace. One feels so immensely flattered when chosen by a discriminating cat, for it is an affection which can only be won by merit, and never bought. A dog will love any wreck of humanity who chances to own him, but one needs to be self-respecting to earn the love of a cat. Pussies show their regard in such dignified little ways. When you open the hall door your cat will come half way down stairs to meet you, and will then turn and walk up before you with tail erect, and you feel as heartily welcome as though a dog had jumped all over you and knocked your hat off in the exuberance of his greeting. You notice cats never follow, never even walk by your side they precede by a sort of divine right."

By Harriet Martling
Overland Monthly, Vol. XXXVI. Second Series. July—December, 1900

Beauty has ever been a rich, setting for the jewels of woman, and beautiful pets have been cherished possessions in all ages. My lady of antiquity had her tiger cub reposing indolently at her feet as she sailed across the smiling waters in her barge. Customs have changed with years, the barge has been replaced by a more commonplace equipage and the half-tamed tiger cub by a beautiful Angora cat, which is allowed to remain at home in full enjoyment of its comfort. My lady of modern times is true to the tradition of her sex. Her innate love of the beautiful is fully as acute, though her surroundings have been toned to a color corresponding with our present work-a-day world.

Interest in the highly bred species of domesticated cats has increased in marked degree during the past few years, through the efforts of intelligent and ardent admirers of these animals, until prominent fanciers are to be found in many cities the world over and Cat Clubs, though at first ridiculed, reveal upon the rolls of membership many of the best names. The importance of the work of these clubs in elevating the standing of the cat to the plain of first-class petdom, and particularly its influence in securing more humane treatment for the neglected outcasts of the streets and alleys, should not be underestimated.

The city of San Francisco is the latest addition to cities in which Cat Clubs have been organized. On the 17th of July the Pacific Cat Club was organized with the following officers: President, Mrs. C. E. Martling; vice-president, Mrs. Allen Abbott; treasurer, Mrs. C. Hildebrand; recording secretary, Mrs. A H. Brod; corresponding secretary, Mrs. A H. Hoag.

It is the aim of the Pacific Cat Club to found in the city of San Francisco a hospital and refuge for sick and homeless cats, chiefly the common cat of the streets and alleys. Such an institution does not at present exist and the pity felt by all right-minded people for the lower orders of the animal kingdom, when in distress, dictates such to be fully as great a need as any charitable institution answering to animal necessities.

When one considers the vast number of homeless cats now wandering about our streets, many of them seriously diseased, and all in a more than half-starved condition, a prey for the vicious and thoughtless by whom they are abused and oftimes put to death by hideous tortures—when it is considered that these animals must in natural consequence of their condition convey and spread about the city the germs of disease, it must be patent that the establishment of an effective institution of this character is called for.

It is designed that the refuge be but a temporary home. Such cats as come under its care, when found to be diseased or disabled, will be painlessly released from their misery, and as for the others, efforts will be made to secure homes where they will be kindly treated, in warehouses, factories, stores, ranches, private families and numerous places of like nature in this and foreign countries. It is the intention to give wide publicity to the fact that such cats may be had on application by people who will provide them with good homes, and the club has no doubt that it can suitably place a large number of its proteges.

A hospital and refuge was founded by the Chicago Cat Club in 1899, in connection with which a juvenile club was established at the same time, as an adjunct for the purpose of enlisting the children in this humane work of protecting the much-abused cat. By thefunds raised in membership fees in this juvenile club it was designed to support the refuge. Recently Mrs. Leland Norton, president of the Chicago club, has decided to personally take up this work in her city and will conduct the cat refuge, which will be under the inspection of the city. New York and other large cities have similar institutions.

The London institution for lost and starving cats has received 28,982 cats in the four years of its existence. It is supported entirely by voluntary contributions and numbers among its patrons twenty-five of the leading titled families of England. There on the roll. With the long list posted there are a number of similar institutions in Europe.

The Pacific Cat Club has enjoyed phenomenal growth since its organization, July 97, 1900, now having seventy-five members on the roll. With the long listed posted the membership will soon reach the hundred mark. A stud book has been opened, in which cats are registered, thus keeping a record of pedigrees. It is the intention of the club to promote a series of exhibitions of stock throughout the coming winter, for the purpose of stimulating an interest in the club and its work. The first of these exhibitions took place on August 30th, at the home of the secretary, Mrs. A H. Brod. It was very largely attended by admirers of blue-blooded felines. Cats of all kinds and colors participated, the beautiful fluffy Persians and Angoras predominating. Each secured a full measure of honeyed words and caresses, and the exhibition was a gratifying success to all concerned. It was the first exhibition of cats ever given on the Pacific Coast.

For some years past, those privately interested in the cat, from the standpoint of an attractive and beautiful pet, have imported many fine specimens direct from Asia. Trips abroad have resulted in returns with strains from famous kennels, and lately, some notable purchases have been made from the kennels of prominent Eastern fanciers.

Among the aristocratic felines owned in the Pacific Cat Club is Pretzel, German by name but a good Native Son of the Golden West, whose ancestors fought many battles under the tri-color of the French Republic; for Pretzel is an Angora of the stock of Mrs. H. H. Paxton, directly imported from France, and is of that very rare color, a genuine French red. He is an unusually large cat for his age, and is of singularly striking appearance and great value. In spite of his name, Pretzel has never been known, even in moments of greatest exhilaration, to sing “The Watch on the Rhine,” hence it is to be supposed he is true to the traditions of his ancestry. He is owned by Mrs. Gwynn.

It is not a long jump from Eastern Asia the original home of the Aristocratic Angora to Siam, the Hermit Kingdom, whose rulers have for ages unknown fostered a breed of cats within their Royal palaces, distinctive and curious in appearance and characteristics as the nation under whose protection they have flourished. These cats are known colloquially as the “Palace breed of the Royal Cats of Siam,” and such specimens as have from time to time made their appearance in the Occidental World have usually been stolen by adventurers from the Palace at Bangkok. There are but few Siamese Cats now owned in the United States who first saw light in the Imperial courts of the famous Palaces of these Eastern Potentates.

Direct descendent of imported Siamese stock is “Shulla” owned by Miss Derrick, said to be a perfect specimen of this rare and highly prized species. She is pure chocolate in color, smooth and glossy of coat, with blue eyes. The “Arms” of this eminently aristocratic puss are two kinks couchant in a tail rampant, which in the Siamese Cats College of Heraldry is taken to denote that Shula is an offshoot of the American branch of this famous family tree, founded by an ancestor who emigrated to America in or about the year 1895.

Cousin, slightly removed, to Shulla is Chom, owned by Miss Freeman. Chom is also a superior animal, a trifle lighter in color perhaps, but possessing the eyes of blue. His “crest” too is quite proper, his ancestry sans reproche. It is interesting to note that all the Siamese stock on the Pacific Coast is owned by members of the Pacific Cat Club.

The largest Queen Angora on the Coast is Judy, the property of Mrs. Van. Court. Coiled and in repose she suggests the thought of a giant snow-ball somehow gone astray and lodged in an out-of-the-way place. In soft and fluffy whiteness, Judy’s furry coat rivals in purity the newly fallen flakes of virgin snow.

Fluff, owned by Mrs. Allen Abbott, is a large white Angora weighing twenty-five pounds, with eyes of deepest blue. Fluff is not deaf - a rarity in blue-eyed cats – and is the finest specimen of his class in the West. He is an expert hunter and in spite of the sure punishment which awaits his return, will strut away whenever opportunity affords in pursuit of birds and mice. He knows his transgression and his cat honor must be appeased by acknowledgment of his fault, which he does invariably by bringing his captures and depositing them entire at the feet of his mistress.

Mrs. McCabe’s Doc is equally beautiful in a different style. Doc is a tiger Angora His magnificent coat shades from tones of softest grey to a coal black. He has perfect tiger markings about the head. Although reared in the lap of luxury, Doc is rather plebian in the choice of a chum, having shown a decided preference for a little common stray cat. During the morning hours they may be seen tumbling about on the cool green lawn until Doc is called in for his daily “siesta”

Another white Angora of special note is Middy, property of Mrs. A H. Brod. Middy’s eyes are a rare shade of deepest amber and his coat is long and silky. He is a very fastidious puss. His daily menu begins with cream, and he absolutely refuses to proceed with his dinner until he has been served with a raw oyster as an appetizer. Middy is descended from the Duke of Hawthorne.

The mascot of Mrs. A H. Hoag’s cattery is Nilo, for there is luck in black cats, and Nilo is black as a country lane on a stormy winter’s night, with eyes bright, round and large as a newly coined half-eagle just from Uncle Sam’s mint. The cattery is noted for good strains of tigers, of which Jester and Olive are excellent examples. Worthy of mention, also, is Buster, an imported white Persian owned by Mrs. Hoag.

Of the writer’s pets, the most valued is Omar, a pure white Persian, son of the famous Royal, king of the kennels of Mrs. Leland Norton. Omar resents the presence of cats of lesser birth, and is ready to wage war upon them. Like the great Caliph of Bagdad, from whom he is named, he strives to be ruler, and constant warfare has thus far marked his reign. Among the others is Pansy, Persian Tortoise, daughter of Don Quixote and Nunna noted prize-winners, and Posey, Spanish Tortoise, daughter of Yarrow and Dorothy, while last but not least, is Quaker, the dean of the kennels, blue-gray quaint, whose kindly disposition has endeared him to all.

Among the flowers and palms of the sunny South the Maizie Kennels are found, fitted with every luxury conducive to the health and happiness of the happy cat family under its roof. There are sixteen in all, pure aristocrats, descendents from prize-winning stock, and brought from famous eastern kennels. Major, the king of the kennel, is a son of the blue-eyed white prize-winner King Sutro. Maizie, a tortoise shell, is the proud mother of five excellent kittens. Then there are four beauties sired by Royal Norton, and Black Dinah, a solid black Persian. Queen Bess is a magnificent white, with emerald eyes - directly imported from the land of the Shah. The Maizie Kennels are owned by Mrs. Payne of Los Angeles.

Mrs. H. H. Paxton of Healdsburg has for several years owned fine specimens of high-bred cats - nearly all imported during visits abroad. At present she has among her collection one that is very rare in color, a sort of fawn tinged with pink, and having eyes of deep orange. Her name is Formosa

We are told that a cat may look at a king, but in these days of democratic manners, it has been the fashion of many kings to look at cats, and monarchs as well as subjects number specimens of the aristocratic felines among their most prized pets. The cat has made its way. It is fair to assume that no distant day will mark its position upon an equal footing with the best classes of pet stock, in the affections of the people of all countries.


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