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THE MEMOIRS OF A CAT
pounds (mostly carbon) produced from the sun. Just the same is the case with me. The utter groundlessness of human vanity is revealed in the light of these incontestable biological facts.
Anatomically, my modest frame (I am very proud of it) stands scientific comparison with the skeleton that supports the lofty stature of any man believed to be possessed of super-human powers or divine qualities. Examine the two, bone for bone, joint for joint, and you will be surprised to sce how very little qualitative difference there is. Even morphologically, that is, in the form of structure, the noble biped is but little differentiated from his lowly cousins who still prefer to walk securely on all fours. Carry the comparison further, and I shall not be at a much greater disadvantage. Take, for example, my brain, unless you are foolish enough to laugh at the idea of a cat claiming to have brain, in the figurative sense, for physically you can hardly deny me one. Yes, take, for instance, brain-the climax of organic evolution; I mean, climax as a part of the physical process, not its by-product. Place the modest lump of the clammy stuff lodged behind my shamefully receding forehead, by the side of the spiritual dynamo in the noble cranium of a genius, who is naturally a man. Ask an expert physiologist to have a look at both. Except for the possible difference in bulk, he might have insuperable difficulty to identify them with their respec
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