She is seldom intrusive, and never exuberant, but manifests at times a sweet and flattering desire to be with us, whether we are reading silently, oblivious of her presence, or have leisure to seduce her into play. Dickens's Williamina—first christened, in error, William—used to put out the candles with her paw if she thought her master too absorbed in his book, or too long unconscious of her patient waiting. Now and then this little fireside friend will even consent to accompany us out of doors; not with the overflowing delight of a restless dog, but with a graciousness of demeanour which reminds one of Mme. de Sévigné and her companions strolling through the leafy paths of Les Rochers. "A cat," says M. Champfleury, "does not invite us to a tramp; she does not appear to find the pleasure in active exercise which distinguishes the dog. She only rambles a little with some one for whom she has a fancy, on condition always that the distance be short, and the spot a quiet one. A student who, book in hand, treads meditatively the shady garden walks, is perhaps most to her taste. She will run before him for a few steps, roll herself lightly over the gravel, return to his side for an absent-minded caress, and again precede him down the path, leading him as far as she deems it well for him to go."
Curiosity is a trait as common in young cats as
