A COMPOSITE CAT.

WE took our pussy’s photograph, then one of a neighbor’s cat; And then a third, and then a fourth—a dozen pussies sat. And then we took the photograph of every photograph. Oh, that is often done, you know; indeed, you needn’t laugh! We showed mamma the last effect. “Here is the type,” we said, “Of all the dozen pussy-cats—see what a splendid head!” “Splendid? A terror!” cried mamma—quite frank, to say the least; “Each puss would be a truer type than this composite beast!”