dim, and its plumage assumed a dullish tint, which, in less than a
fortnight, changed to a deep black.

The worthy physician watched with the eye of a naturalist this phenomenon;
but, after awhile, fearing for the life of his favourite, he ordered it to
be replaced alongside its companion.

In a short time it resumed its spirits and its song--recommenced its
rivalry with the mavis; but, after every moulting, the new feathers were
always of the same coal-black colour. The mavis evinced no corresponding
feeling of attachment--neither, so far as I recollect, missing its
companion, nor rejoicing at its restoration.

A.C. HALL.

* * * * *

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

* * * * *

BATTLE OF THE CATS.

(_From the "Noctes" of Blackwood._)

_Tickler._--A Battle of Cats.

"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon the slates!"

Miss Tabitha having made an assignation with Tom Tortoiseshell, the feline
phenomenon, they two sit curmurring, forgetful of mice and milk, of all
but love! How meekly mews the Demure, relapsing into that sweet
under-song--the Purr! And how curls Tom's whiskers like those of a Pashaw!
The point of his tail--and the point only is alive--insidiously turning
itself, with serpent-like seduction, towards that of Tabitha, pensive as a
nun. His eyes are rubies, hers emeralds--as they should be--his lightning,
hers lustre--for in her sight he is the lord, and in his, she is the lady
of creation.

_North._--

"O happy love! when love like this is found;--
O heartfelt raptures! blessed beyond compare!
I've paced much this weary mortal round,
And sage experience bids me this declare.--
If earth a draught of heavenly pleasure share,
One cordial in this melancholy vale,
'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,
In others arms breathe out the tender tale"--

_Shepherd._--The last line wunna answer--

"Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale"

_Tickler._--Woman or cat,--she who hesitates, is lost. But Diana,
shining in heaven, the goddess of the Silver Bow, sees the peril of poor
Pussy, and interposes her celestial aid to save the vestal. An enormous
grimalkin, almost a wild cat, comes rattling along the roof, down from the
chimney-top, and Tom Tortoiseshell, leaping from love to war, tackles to
the Red Rover in single combat. Sniff--snuff--splutter--squeak--squall
--caterwaul--and throttle!