ter, whose shy disposition keeps her from mingling in society. She
is of a tawny black, like Mummia, Atta-Croll's hairy companion, and her
two green eyes look like huge aqua-marines. She generally stands on
three legs, her fourth lifted up like a classical lion that has lost its
marble ball.

These be the chronicles of the Black Dynasty. Enjolras, Gavroche, and
Eponine recall to me the creations of a beloved master; only, when I
re-read "Les Miserables," the chief characters in the novel seem to me
to be taken by black cats, a fact that in no wise diminishes the
interest I take in it.

IV

THIS SIDE FOR DOGS

I have often been charged with not being fond of dogs; a charge which
does not at first sight appear to be very serious, but which I
nevertheless desire to clear myself of, for it implies a certain amount
of dislike. People who prefer cats are thought by many to be cruel,
sensuous, and treacherous, while dog-lovers are credited with being
frank, loyal, and open-hearted,--in a word, possessed of all the
qualities attributed to the canine race. I in no wise deny the merits of
Medor, Turk, Miraut, and other engaging animals, and I am prepared to
acknowledge the truth of the axiom formulated by Charlet,--"The best
thing about man is his dog." I have been the owner of several, and I
still own some. Should any of those who seek to discredit me come to my
house, they would be met by a Havana lap-dog barking shrilly and
furiously at them, and by a greyhound that very likely would bite their
legs for them. But my affection for dogs has an understratum of fear.
These excellent creatures, so good, so faithful, so devoted, so loving,
may go mad at any moment, and then they become more dangerous than a
lance-head snake, an asp, a rattlesnake or a cobra capella. This reacts
on my love for dogs. Then dogs strike me as a bit uncanny; they have
such a searching, intense glance; they sit down in front of you with so
questioning a look that it is fairly embarrassing. Goethe disliked that
glance of theirs that seems to attempt to incorporate man's soul within
itself, and he drove away dogs, saying, "You shall not swallow my monad,
much as you may try."

The Pharamond of my canine dynasty was called Luther. He was a big white
spaniel, with liver spots, and handsome brown ears. He was a setter, had
lost his owner, and after looking for him a long time in vain, had taken
to living in my father's house at Passy. Not having p