rom pure blood that any
of the four cats show. The last, the youngest and smallest cat (although
she can boast of five years of age, and, in any company but the present,
would be considered a fine large animal), is Santa Inez, the daughter
of Santa Barbara. She is the one to get into all the mischief of which
cats are capable; to run away and lead every one a lively chase until
she is found, for the Father (let us whisper it under our breath) would
feel nearly as much sorrow at the loss of one of his cats, as he would
at losing the soul of one of his neophytes.

We fear much that our reader will be ready to set Father Uria down as a
mere fool, or a half-crazy old man, and to sneer at him and his precious
cats. But are not we all crazy on some subject; has not each one of us
some hobby or idiosyncrasy which makes us appear more or less demented
to our neighbors? And just because the twist in our poor Father's mind
takes the particular form of a love for cats: why should we, how dare
we, say he is crazy? No, he was no more crazy than are we; and perhaps
his beautiful cats kept him from becoming so, in very sooth, forced
to live in the wilderness, if we may call it that, deprived of all the
happiness of his native land, and of the friends for whom these cats
make a poor substitute at the best.

But there is one point on which we cannot find excuse for the Father,
that is, in giving his cats the names of some of the most respected
and venerated saints among the Franciscans; going so far, indeed, as
to bestow upon his finest cat the name of Saint Francis himself, the
founder of the order. It is difficult to conceive of such irreverence in
a priest, himself a member of that great order in the Catholic Church;
and it is this, if anything, which would show a weakness of the mind.
But even here, let us say, not as excuse, but in mitigation of his
offense, that only from inadvertence did the Father speak to, or of,
his cats by these names in any one's hearing; and there were only two or
three people at the mission who knew after what august personages
they were called. Besides, their full title was usually reserved for
occasions of reprimand, and with these well-mannered creatures such
occasions were rare indeed.

"Well," said the Father, beginning his own supper, after having given
the cats each their portion of meat in a large deep plate, flanked by a
saucer brimming full of sweet cream, "aren't you pretty cats to go off
and