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one, andshe will stick to you through thick and thin. All the cats that Ihave had have been most firm comrades. I had a cat once that used tofollow me about everywhere, until it even got quite embarrassing,Camisetas Bayer Leverkusenr Baratas, andI had to beg her, as a personal favor, not to accompany me any furtherdown the High Street. She used to sit up for me when I was late homeand meet me in the passage. It made me feel quite like a married man,except that she never asked where I had been and then didn't believeme when I told her.
Another cat I had used to get drunk regularly every day. She wouldhang about for hours outside the cellar door for the purpose ofsneaking in on the first opportunity and lapping up the drippings fromthe beer-cask. I do not mention this habit of hers in praise of thespecies,Casquette Pas cher, but merely to show how almost human some of them are. If thetransmigration of souls is a fact, this animal was certainlyqualifying most rapidly for a Christian, for her vanity was onlysecond to her love of drink. Whenever she caught a particularly bigrat, she would bring it up into the room where we were all sitting,lay the corpse down in the midst of us, and wait to be praised. Lord!
how the girls used to scream.
Poor rats! They seem only to exist so that cats and dogs may gaincredit for killing them and chemists make a fortune by inventingspecialties in poison for their destruction. And yet there issomething fascinating about them. There is a weirdness anduncanniness attaching to them. They are so cunning and strong, soterrible in their numbers, so cruel, so secret. They swarm indeserted houses, where the broken casements hang rotting to thecrumbling walls and the doors swing creaking on their rusty hinges.
They know the sinking ship and leave her, no one knows how or whither.
They whisper to each other in their hiding-places how a doom will fallupon the hall and the great name die forgotten. They do fearful deedsin ghastly charnel-houses.
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I love to read tales about rats. They make my flesh creep so. I likethat tale of Bishop Hatto and the rats. The wicked bishop, you know,had ever so much corn stored in his granaries and would not let thestarving people touch it, but when they prayed to him for foodgathered them together in his barn, and then shutting the doors onthem, set fire to the place and burned them all to delinks:
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