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In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing degree. We had birds, gold-fish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a cat. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost no opportunity of procuring those of the most agreeable kind. I married early, and was happy to find in my wife a disposition not uncongenial with my own. There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the trouble of explaining the nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. This peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and, in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources of pleasure. With these I spent most of my time, and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. I was especially fond of animals, and was indulged by my parents with a great variety of pets. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me the jest of my companions. Hereafter, perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the common-place - some intellect more calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects.įrom my infancy I was noted for the docility and humanity of my disposition. To me, they have presented little but Horror - to many they will seem less terrible than barroques. In their consequences, these events have terrified - have tortured - have destroyed me. My immediate purpose is to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. But to-morrow I die, and to-day I would unburthen my soul. Yet, mad am I not - and very surely do I not dream. Mad indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief.

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