ed separately; so, in the present case, the cat makes her escape.
But get her watching birds--young larks, perhaps, walking on the lea--or
young linnets hanging on the broom--down-by yonder in the holm lands,
where there are no trees, except indeed that one glorious single tree,
the Golden Oak, and he is guarded by Glowrer, and then what a most
capital chase! Stretching herself up with crooked back, as if taking a
yawn--off she jumps, with tremendous spangs, and tail, thickened with
fear and anger, perpendicular. Youf--youf--youf--go the
terriers--head-over-heels perhaps in their fury--and are not long in
turning her--and bringing her to bay at the hedge-root, all ablaze and
abristle. A she-devil incarnate! Hark--all at once now strikes up a
trio--Catalani caterwauling the treble--Glowrer taking the bass, and
Tearer the tenor--a cruel concert cut short by a squalling throttler.
Away--away along the holm--and over the knowe--and into the wood--for
lo! the gudewife, brandishing a besom, comes flying demented without her
mutch, down to the murder of her Tabby--her son, a stout stripling, is
seen skirting the potato-field to intercept our flight--and, most
formidable of all foes, the Man of the House himself, in his shirt
sleeves and flail in his hand, bolts from the barn, down the croft,
across the burn, and up the brae, to cut us off from the Manse. The
hunt's up--and 'tis a capital steeple-chase. Disperse--disperse! Down
the hill, Jack--up the hill, Gill--dive the dell, Kit--thread the wood,
Pat--a hundred yards' start is a great matter--a stern chase is always a
long chase--schoolboys are generally in prime wind--the old man begins
to puff, and blow, and snort, and put his paws to his paunch--the son is
thrown out by a double of dainty Davy's--and the "sair begrutten mither"
is gathering up the torn and tattered remains of Tortoise-shell Tabby,
and invoking the vengeance of heaven and earth on her pitiless
murderers. Some slight relief to her bursting and breaking heart to vow
that she will make the minister hear of it on the deafest side of his
head--ay, even if she have to break in upon him sitting on Saturday
night, getting aff by rote his fushionless sermon, in his ain study.

Now, gentle reader, again observe, that though we have now described,
_con amore_, a most cruel case of cat-killing, in which we certainly did
play a most aggravated part some Sixty Years since, far indeed are we
from recommending such wanton b