I think some reason for the present errors and superstitions attached to
cats, may be attributed to the _cat_-adioptric qualities of their eyes and
fur. At night their eyes often shine with phosphoric light, and rubbing
their fur with the human hand causes it to emit electric sparks,
particularly in very cold weather. They are supposed to partake of
ghostly, or witch-like qualities, because they can see in the night time.
Fish scales, as well as the flesh of fish, contain a phosphoric
principle--there is no witchery about such--which can be seen best through
the dark. The fur of other animals besides the cat contain electric
qualities. Humans possess it to a greater or lesser extent. The eye of the
cat--as also the owl--is made, in the divine economy, expressly for night
prowling. The back, or reflecting coat (retina), is white, or light, that
it may reflect dark objects. In man, and most animals, it is dark. A
light-complexioned person can (_cæteris paribus_) see better at night than
one who is dark. In a strong light, it is reversed. So much for
cat-optrics.
Our cat-alogue would be incomplete without this cat-agraph, and we should
"cat-ch it," hereafter, from some cat-echist, if we here discontinued our
cat-enary cat-egory, without some little cat-ch relative to the domestic
and redeeming qualities of this unappreciated cat-tle (excuse the
cat-achresis).
Webster says the cat is a deceitful animal. Webster don't know. She
certainly has large cautiousness and secretiveness. Man, with the same
secretiveness, with the same neglect and abuse that Tom receives, will
become doubly deceitful. Treat him kindly and affectionately, and he will
return it. Subject to everybody's kicks, cuffs, and suspicion, the cat
necessarily becomes shy, ugly, and appears deceitful. So does a child. The
cat is fond of sweet scents, and pries into drawers and cupboards, oftener
to gratify her sense of smell than taste. Cats are very fond of music, and
occasionally go upon the piano keys to make the strings vibrate. Depending
upon their own exertions for a livelihood, they become thieves. They may,
by kind instruction, soon be taught to know and keep their own places.
The healthy cat is neat and systematic. Children may be taught a useful
lesson by noticing that the tabby washes her face and hands after meals,
and never comes to her repast with them dirty.
Cats are sometimes good fish-catchers, as well as mousers and
bird-catchers, often plunging into water to secure their favorite aliment.
Their love of praise is exhibited in their general tendency to bring in
their prey, and place it at your feet for your approbation. Give them the
notice due them, and they will redouble their efforts.
It is a vulgar error to suppose their washing over the head is a sign of
rain, or that you can tell the time of tide by their eye-pupils, or that
they can go through a solid wall, have nine lives, or suck away a child's
breath.
The cat, as a sanitary means, should be domesticated, especially with
scrofulous children and females. Either by their absorbent or repelling
powers they assist nature in eradicating that almost universal
disease--scrofula.
Teach children that "God has created nothing in vain," and nothing which
will harm them if rightly used.
Here we bid good by to Tom and Tabby.
_The Owl._--The superstition which has hung about this very harmless bird
is liable to soon cease in the extermination of the creature itself.
"Was you born in the woods to be scared by an owl?" my grandmother once
sarcastically inquired when I was frightened from the barn by an old owl
inquiring,--
"Who--a'--yoo?"
[Illustration: "WHO--A'--YOO?"]
I acknowledge I was a great coward; but I had heard the old women affirm
more than once that it was a sign of ill luck or death to hear one of
these cat-faced, cat-seeing, mousing creatures cry by day; so I fled from
the barn, while the old owl turned his head sidewise, as he sat on a beam,
trying to penetrate the light, repeating, "Who--a'--yoo?" It was a sign of
death, for my uncle shot the owl.
Magpies are made the subject of superstition. To see a single one
strutting across your path is a sad mishap. There is luck in three, or
more, however.
_Holy Water._--Church superstitions and rites are not within our
province, unless they are objectionable in a sanitary point of view. If
the holy water is clean, it is just as good as any other pure water; but I
have seen it poured upon my Irish patients--years ago in Hartford and
elsewhere--when there were "wrigglers" in it from long exposure in an
unstopped bottle or tea-cup. I approve of holy water, therefore, in large
quantities, with other rites, tending to a sanitary object. Have plenty of
water--with soap.
[Illustration: THE PROPER USE OF "HOLY WATER."]
_Bells._--Few useful articles have been held in greater reverence and
superstition. Their origin is of great antiquity. The first Jewish priests
adorned their blue tunics with golden bells, as also did the Persian
kings. The Greeks put bells upon criminals going to execution, as a
warning, as it was an ill omen to see a criminal and his executioner
walking. The superstition respecting bells began more particularly with
the tenth century, when the priests exorcised and blessed them, giving
them the names of saints, making the rabble believe that when they were
rung for those ceremonies they had the power to drive devils out of the
air, making them quake and tremble; also to restrain the power of the
devil over a corpse; hence bell-ringing at funerals.
There are many legends wherein the evil spirits' dislike to bells is
promulgated.
As "the devil hates holy water," so he does bell-ringing.
Dr. Warner, a clergyman of the Church of England, in his "Hampshire,"
enumerates the virtues of a bell, by translating some lines from the
"Helpe to Discourse."
"Men's deaths I tell by doleful knell;
Lightning and thunder I break asunder;
On Sabbath all to church I call;
The sleepy head I raise from bed;
The winds so fierce I doe disperse;
Men's cruel rage I do asswage."
I think the beautiful music discoursed by a chime of bells would be more
effectual "men's cruel rage" to tranquillize, than a battery of seven
cannons. Aside from all superstitious notions, there is an irresistible
charm about the music of bells, and I rejoice that they are gradually
being redeemed from the superstition and monopoly of one ignorant
denomination, as the sacred cross may be, to the use and blessing of all
mankind.
_Fear of Thunder and Lightning._--These have ever been sources of
superstitious terror. The ancients considered thunder and lightning as
direct manifestations of divine wrath; hence whatever the lightning struck
was accursed. The corpses of persons so killed were allowed to remain
where they fell, to the great inconvenience, often, of the living.
The electricity which plays about high poles and spires was formerly
attributed to spirits. "Fiery spirits or devils," says old Burton, "are
such as commonly work by blazing stars, fire-drakes," etc. "Likewise they
counterfeit suns and moons ofttimes, and sit on ships' masts." The
electric sparks upon the metal points of soldiers' spears were regarded as
omens of no small importance.
In some parts of Europe, up to the last century, it was a custom to ring
bells during a thunder-storm, to drive away evil spirits; but this act
often was the cause of death, by the exposure of persons to the points of
attraction, and the conducting power of moist ropes and metallic wires. On
the night of April 15, 1718, the lightning struck twenty-four steeples
while the bells were ringing. In July of the following year, while the
bells were tolling at a funeral celebration in the Chateau Vieux,
lightning struck the steeple, killing nine persons and injuring
twenty-two. Statistics show that numerous deaths were caused by
bell-ringing in England and France, during the last century, to drive away
imaginary spirits.
The saint usually invoked on these occasions was St. Barnabas.
The houseleek and bay tree were supposed to afford protection from
lightning.
"The thunder has soured the beer," or the milk, is a common saying; and I
once saw a piece of iron lying across the beer-barrel to keep away
thunder. A heavy atmosphere may suddenly sour beer or milk.
Creeping three times under the communion table while the chimes were
striking, at midnight, was believed to cure fits, as late as 1835.
Glass, stone, and feathers are non-conductors to electricity. Persons very
susceptible to electric currents need give themselves no fear, and no more
caution need be taken than we take to protect ourselves against other
objects of danger. Lightning will not strike one out of doors, unless he
is near a point of high attraction,--under a tree, or pole,--or has about
him, exposed, some metallic substance, or some very wet article. Houses
under or near tall trees, or with suitable lightning-rods, are safe
enough. A feather bed, particularly one insulated by glass-rollers, or
plates, under the posts, and not touching the wall, is a perfectly safe
place for invalids and nervous people who are susceptible to electricity.
The pulse of such is often increased in frequency before a thunder-storm.
Let such first have no fear. See God in the storm and lightning as only a
saving power. I know a girl who "tears around like mad" for a man at the
approach of a thunder-storm. When finding one, she feels perfectly safe.
If not, she hides in the cellar till the storm abates.
_Unlucky Days._--The superstition respecting unlucky Friday is well known.
Some cynical bachelors say it is unlucky because named for a woman. Monday
was also so named. I can find no account of this superstition until after
the first century A. D. It is said that our Saviour was crucified on
Friday--a day of fear and trembling, of earthquakes and divers remarkable
phenomena; but that day is now as uncertain as the day of his birth, in
the various changes of the calendar, heathen naming of the days to suit
their notions, and the great uncertainty of chronology. No doubt Christ
arose from the dead on the then first day of the week, and was crucified
the third day before the resurrection; but what day of our present week
who can tell? If on Friday, it should be counted far from an unlucky day.
Sailors are particularly superstitious as to sailing on Friday,
notwithstanding Columbus sailed on Friday, and discovered America on that
day.
The French believe in unlucky Friday. Lord Byron, Dr. Johnson, and other
authors and poets, are said to have so believed. Shakspeare, Scott,
Goldsmith, Bacon, Sir Francis Drake, Napoleon, and many other great men,
were pretty thoroughly tinged with superstition; the latter, it is said,
believed in "luck," or destiny.
The future of children is yet believed to depend much upon the day of the
week on which they are born.
"Monday's child is fair in face;
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child works hard for its living;
Saturday's child is loving and giving;
And a child that's born on Christmas day
Is fair, and wise, and good, and gay."[7]
This, of course, is all nonsense--or rather the belief in such signs--and
one day is equally as good as another for nature's work, or in which to
fulfil the requirements of God and nature. Let no mother, or her who is
about to become a mother, put faith in old nurses' whims. Their brains are
full of all such fantastic notions, which are too often revealed in the
sick room, and the effect is often detrimental to the peace and happiness
of the mother, and at times dangerous to the life of the invalid.