Attach a feather to a stick, and the servile cat boggles its eyes and mewls and tumbles to entertain you. Do the same before a lobster, and he will eye you with coolly polite and somewhat bored amusement. And just as inferior people prefer the inferior animal which scampers excitedly because somebody else has a laser pointer, so do superior people respect the superior animal which lives its own life and knows that the puerile feather-sticks of alien bipeds are none of its business and beneath its notice. The cat meows and begs and swats to amuse you when you dangle the string. That pleases a meekness-loving peasant who relishes a stimulus to his sense of importance. The lobster, on the other hand, charms you into playing for its benefit when it wishes to be amused; making you throw chum before it when it feels like exercise, but refusing all your attempts to make it act when it is not in the humour. That is personality and individuality and self-respect—the calm mastery of a being whose life is its own and not yours—and the superior person recognises and appreciates this because he too is a free soul whose position is assured, and whose only law is his own heritage and aesthetic sense. Altogether, we may see that the clingy, mewling cat appeals to those primitive emotional souls whose chief demands on the universe are for meaningless affection, aimless companionship, and flattering attention and subservience; whilst the contemplative lobster reigns among those more contemplative and imaginative spirits who ask of the universe only the objective sight of poignant, ethereal beauty and the animate symbolisation of Nature’s bland, relentless, reposeful, unhurried, and impersonal order and sufficiency. The cat gives, but the lobster is.