he animal as it stands, I don't
feel inclined to give you more than a shilling for it. If you think you
can do better by taking it elsewhere, you do so."

"He was more like a Christian than a cat," said the lady.

"I'm not taking dead Christians," I answered firmly, "and even if I were
I wouldn't give more than a shilling for a specimen like that. You can
consider him as a Christian, or you can consider him as a cat; but he's
not worth more than a shilling in either case."

We settled eventually for eighteenpence.

The number of cats that Thomas Henry contrived to dispose of also
surprised me. Quite a massacre of cats seemed to be in progress.

One evening, going into the kitchen, for I made it a practice now to
visit the kitchen each evening, to inspect the daily consignment of dead
cats, I found, among others, a curiously marked tortoiseshell cat, lying
on the table.

"That cat's worth half a sovereign," said the owner, who was standing by,
drinking beer.

I took up the animal, and examined it.

"Your cat killed him yesterday," continued the man. "It's a burning
shame."

"My cat has killed him three times," I replied. "He was killed on
Saturday as Mrs. Hedger's cat; on Monday he was killed for Mrs. Myers. I
was not quite positive on Monday; but I had my suspicions, and I made
notes. Now I recognise him. You take my advice, and bury him before he
breeds a fever. I don't care how many lives a cat has got; I only pay
for one."

We gave Thomas Henry every chance to reform; but he only went from bad to
worse, and added poaching and chicken-stalking to his other crimes, and I
grew tired of paying for his vices.

I consulted the gardener, and the gardener said he had known cats taken
that way before.

"Do you know of any cure for it?" I asked.

"Well, sir," replied the gardener, "I have heard as how a dose of
brickbat and pond is a good thing in a general way."

"We'll try him with a dose just before bed time," I answered. The
gardener administered it, and we had no further trouble with him.

Poor Thomas Henry! It shows to one how a reputation for respectability
may lie in the mere absence of temptation. Born and bred in the
atmosphere of the Reform Club, what gentleman could go wrong? I was
sorry for Thomas Henry, and I have never believed in the moral influence
of the country since.

THE CITY OF THE SEA

They say, the chroniclers who have written the history of that low-lying,
wi