wailing of pain." For myself, I seldom hear a catawauling without thinking of that droll picture in Punch of the old lady sitting up in bed and pricking up her ears to the music of a mewing Cat.
"Oh, ah! yes, it's the waits," says she, with a delighted chuckle; "I love to listen to 'em. It may be fancy, but somehow they don't seem to play so sweetly as they did when I was a girl. Perhaps it is that I am getting old, and don't hear quite so well as I used to do."
Few, even amongst Pussy's most ardent admirers, who possess the faculty of hearing, and have heard the music of Cats, would desire the continuance of their "sweet voices"; yet a concert was exhibited at Paris, wherein Cats were the performers. They were placed in rows, and a monkey beat time to them, as the Cats mewed; and the historian of the facts relates that the diversity of the tones which they emitted produced a very ludicrous effect. This exhibition was announced to the Parisian public by the title of "Concert Miaulant."
This would seem to prove that Cats may be taught tricks, which is not generally believed, but is nevertheless the case.
In Pool's Twists and Turns about the Streets of
