plausible; but, in reality, it would be hardly less easy to assess the householder on the mice that might infest his kitchen, or the sparrows that hop about on his window-sill, than upon the vagabond grimalkins that may choose to “squat” upon his premises. Putting on one side, however, the fact that both the social and the domestic systems would be shaken to their foundations by the exaction of such a duty, — that every cook would be set in opposition to her master by being called upon to pay the tax or dismiss her cat, — there remains this one great difficulty to a successful collection of a tax on cats, that no one would pay it. Some few eccentric persons — those, for instance, who pay “conscience money” — would, no doubt, come forward to be mulcted, but the vast majority of ratepayers would simply disclaim possession of cats, and throw the onus of proof upon the rate-collectors. “My cat!” the landlady would say to him, feigning astonishment, “Bless you, that’s not my cat! It came in quite promiscuous one night, and I have been trying ever since to drive it away. If you don ’t believe me, sir, you can take it away with you now.”
Under the circumstances, what could a collector, with ordinary human feelings, say or do? Is he to throw discredit upon a respectable person’s statement, — supported, moreover, by her unmistakable sincerity in offering the cat there and then to the representative of Government, — by assessing her in spite of her protests?
Moreover, if the landlady, before his very eyes, should proceed to hunt the cat out of her parlor, should, farther, chase it downstairs into the kitchen with a duster, thence through the scullery into the back garden, and, not content with that, pursue it even to the uttermost
