remarkably pretty rural lane leading to the village, or rather small
town, of C----.

"One fine summer's evening we had just entered this lane when, seeing
the hedges full of wild flowers, I asked my friend to let me alight and
gather some. I walked before the carriage picking honeysuckles and roses
as I went along, till I came to a gate that led into a field. It was a
common country gate with a post on each side, and on one of these posts
sat a large white cat, the finest animal of the kind I had ever seen;
and as I have a weakness for cats I stopped to admire this sleek, fat
puss, looking so wonderfully comfortable in a very uncomfortable
position, the top of the post, on which it was sitting with its feet
doubled up under it, being out of all proportion to its body, for no
Angola ever rivalled it in size.

"'Come on gently,' I called to my friend; 'here's such a magnificent
cat!' for I feared the approach of the phaeton would startle it away
before he had seen it.

"'Where?' said he, pulling up his horse opposite the gate.

"'There,' said I, pointing to the post. 'Isn't he a beauty? I wonder if
it would let me stroke it?'

"'I see no cat,' said he.

"'There on the post,' said I, but he declared he saw nothing, though
puss sat there in perfect composure during this colloquy.

"'Don't you see the cat, James?' said I in great perplexity to the