made him chancellor of the
holy Roman church." This short effort, to which the Pope's
preferment put a stop, seems to have been the true origin of the
DIVINITY LECTURE, and of the DIVINITY SCHOOLS at Oxford; and of
the studies of the SORBONNE at Paris.

* * * * *

THE "INTELLECTUAL CAT."

(_For the Mirror_.)

The _cat mania_ has hitherto been more popular in France than in
England. To be sure, we have the threadbare story of Whittington and his
cat; Mrs. Griggs and her 86 living and 28 dead cats; Peter King and his
two cats in rich liveries; Foote's concert of cats; and the newspaper
story of tortoiseshell male cats--but in France, cats keep better
company, or at least are associated with better names. Thus, MOLIERE had
his favourite cat; Madame de Puis, the celebrated harpplayer, settled a
pension on her feline friend, which caused a law-suit, and brought into
action all the most celebrated lawyers of France; and M. L'Abbe de
Fontenu was in the habit of experimenting on these animals, one of which
he found could exist twenty-six months without drinking! which fact is
recorded in the History of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris, 1753.

Our present portrait is, however, of more recent date, being a free
translation from _Le Furet de Londres_, a French paper published in
London, whose columns are an agreeable accompaniment for a cup of
coffee. It is a mere _bagatelle_, and as an amusive trifle may not be
unacceptable.

My pretty little Puss, it is high time that I should pay a just tribute
to your merits. We often talk of people who do not esteem you;
therefore, why should I blush to give publicity to your perfection?

You are exceedingly well made; your fur boasts of the delicate varieties
of the tiger; your eyes are lively and pleasing; your velvet coat and
tail are of enviable beauty; and your agility, gracefulness, and
docility are, indeed, the admiration of all who behold you! Your moral
qualities are not less estimable; and we will attempt to recapitulate
them.

In the first place, you love me dearly, or at least you load me with
caresses; unless, like the rest of the world, you love me for yourself's
sake. I know well that you like me less than a slice of mutton, or the
leg of a fowl, but that is very simple; I am your master, and a leg of
mutton is as good again as one master, twice as good as two masters, &c.

You possess great sense, and good