When you let him in he curls into heaps
of joy, and fairly stands on his head sometimes. He is the most
responsive creature, always ready for a caress, and his wild, great
amber eyes beam love, if ever love had manifestation. His beauty is
really extraordinary; his tail a real wonder. Lucifer, I grieve to say,
looks very moth-eaten. Phosphor wore a bell for a short time once--a
little Inch-Cape Rock bell--but he left it to toll all winter in a tall
tree near the drawing-room window.
"A charm of cats is that they seem to live in a world of their own, just
as much as if it were a real dimension of space; and speaking of a
fourth dimension, I am living in the expectation that the new
discoveries in the matter of radiant energy will presently be revealing
to all our senses the fact that there is no death.
"We had some barn kittens once that lived in the hen-house, ate with the
hens, and quarrelled with them for any tidbit. They curled up in the egg
boxes and didn't move when the hens came to lay, and evidently had no
idea that they were not hens.
"Oh, there is no end to the cat situation. It began with the old fellow
who put his hand under the cat to lift her up, and she arched her back
higher and higher until he found it was the serpent Asgard, and it won't
end with you and me. I don't know but she _is_ the serpent Asgard.
I don't know if you have hypnotized or magnetized me, but I am writing
as if I had known you intimately all my life, and feel as though I had.
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