The Adventures of a Cat, and a Fine Cat Too!: Alfred Elwes *New Edition

In selecting the biography of another animal from the Archives of Caneville, for the entertainment of a very different race, I thought I could not do better than fix upon “The Cat;” and as the celebrated Miss Minette Gattina, the historian of poor Job, had bequeathed some of her own memoirs to her native City, furnished, too, with an Introduction by herself, I at once seized upon the materials thus afforded me, and converted them into their present form. I know not whether they will enjoy the same favour which the Public has deigned to accord to the veracious story of “A Bear,” or the simple “Adventures of a Dog.” Time will show whether these true memoirs will be as attractive to youthful readers as the other tales of the feline race, from time immemorial such standard favourites; whether they will have even a chance of success, after the story of that strong-minded Puss, who trod down the ignorant, and made her own and master’s fortune in a pair of top-boots; or that other famous tabby, so intimately associated with City annals and the name of Whittington, whose powers of leading her proprietor to wealth were no less remarkable.

I count as but of little moment the story of the “White Cat;” for though it often charmed me in my days of romance, when the world seemed all bright and beautiful, and the Golden Age appeared no marvel, I have been since angry with myself at my admiration, as though charmed under false pretences, seeing that the said “White Cat” was no Puss after all, but a very free and easy young lady in disguise.

My Caneville Pussy is at least a true one. From the respect in which she appears to have been held in her place of birth, and from the attention which seems to have been bestowed upon her by most of the great animals of Caneville, there is every reason to believe that the scenes she describes were real; for it was a weakness of the Dons in that famous City only to grant favour where it was merited, and never to associate with those whose moral character was not above suspicion.

With these preliminary remarks, I leave Miss Minette to tell her own story. That no one was more capable of doing so may be judged from the fact that it was a customary thing with her to relate it to a crowd of admiring listeners, whom the fame of her beauty, adventures, and with attracted to her dwelling; and though the comments which were made and the questions asked by one or other of the auditory, made the narration on such occasions a rather lengthy one, the written memoirs, from which this tale has been translated, may be considered the pith, the marrow, as it were, of her “household narrative.” A. E.

King’s Arms Yard,

Moorgate Street, London.

Some of the learned F.A.S.‘s of the present day insist that this celebrated animal was tortoise-shell, and others aver, with equal energy, that it was white. Who shall decide?