t
fearless and resolute leopard-men they could have fathered! How
magnificently such a civilization would have made its force tell!

A race of civilized beings descended from these great cats would have
been rich in hermits and solitary thinkers. The recluse would not have
been stigmatized as peculiar, as he is by us simians. They would not
have been a credulous people, or easily religious. False prophets and
swindlers would have found few dupes. And what generals they would have
made! what consummate politicians!

Don't imagine them as a collection of tigers walking around on their
hind-legs. They would have only been like tigers in the sense that we
men are like monkeys. Their development in appearance and character
would have been quite transforming.

Instead of the small flat head of the tiger, they would have had clear
smooth brows; and those who were not bald would have had neatly parted
hair--perhaps striped.

Their mouths would have been smaller and more sensitive: their faces
most dignified. Where now they express chiefly savageness, they would
have expressed fire and grace.

They would have been courteous and suave. No vulgar crowding would have
occurred on the streets of their cities. No mobs. No ignominious
subway-jams.

Imagine a cultivated coterie of such men and women, at a ball, dancing.
How few of us humans are graceful. They would have all been Pavlovas.

* * * * *

Like ants and bees, the cat race is nervous. Their temperaments are
high-strung. They would never have become as poised or as placid
as--say--super-cows. Yet they would have had less insanity, probably,
than we. Monkeys' (and elephants') minds seem precariously balanced,
unstable. The great cats are saner. They are intense, they would have
needed sanitariums: but fewer asylums. And their asylums would have
been not for weak-minded souls, but for furies.

They would have been strong at slander. They would have been far more
violent than we, in their hates, and they would have had fewer
friendships. Yet they might not have been any poorer in real
friendships than we. The real friendships among men are so rare that
when they occur they are famous. Friends as loyal as Damon and Pythias
were, are exceptions. Good fellowship is common, but unchanging
affection is not. We like those who like us, as a rule, and dislike
those who don't. Most of our ties have no better footing than that; and
those