s, garden walls, and
in the alleys of our dwellings. Miss Cat's songs are far too chromatic
to be appreciated by human ears; as a result her concertos and solos are
rarely spoken of by human critics. However, Nature does sometimes
produce a Tetrazzini, Alice Neilson, or Caruso, in the form of a cat,
which really delights in harmonious combinations of sound. I know, for
instance, of a cat called "Nordica" owned by Presson Miller, who
apparently takes the greatest delight in hearing good vocal and
instrumental music. Another well-educated musical cat belongs to a
friend who plays a guitar. This cat delights in touching the strings
with his dainty, soft paws, and springs with delight as the notes are
produced.

The _Animal World_ speaks of five musical cats, which were carried to
various parts of the world and exhibited as "bell-ringers," and their
owner made a fortune out of their concerts. Five bells were suspended
from a hoop, which hung above the stage, and to each bell was attached a
small rope. At a given signal, each cat would seize a bell and give it a
pull. This was done with such perfect time and spirit that one might
well believe it was the work of human musicians and not of cats.

Cows are responsive to certain kinds of music. A funeral march makes
them sad, and ragtime so disturbs them that they give but little milk.
The newspapers claim that Charles W. Ward, who owns a ranch near Eureka,
California, says that the right kind of music will increase the
production of milk, and that he uses a phonograph in the dairy barn.

A friend, who has travelled much, tells the story of a musical cow. He,
in company with two other friends, was coming up a river in a small boat
singing. Just as they turned a bend, they saw a small brown cow,
suckling her calf, along with several other cows in a nearby pasture.
The cow seemed so fascinated with the music that she plunged into the
water and waded up to her head trying to reach the boat. As they rowed
along, she ran up and down the bank, cutting capers in a most
astonishing manner and lowing and bellowing in testimony of her delight
in the music. She would leap, skip, roll on the grass, paw up the earth,
like an angry bull, and chase off like a playful kitten, always with a
low plaintive bellow as a final farewell. These friends often rowed up
the river just to see if the musical cow was there, and she always
greeted them in the usual appreciative manner.

Lions and tigers a