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[Illustration: TALES FROM CATLAND.]
TALES FROM CATLAND,
FOR
LITTLE KITTENS.
BY
AN OLD TABBY.
With Engravings from Designs by Billings.
BOSTON:
TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS.
MDCCCLII.
BOSTON:
THURSTON, TORRY, AND EMERSON,
Printers, Devonshire Street.
TO THE
KITTENS OF ENGLAND,
THE FOLLOWING PAGES
ARE VERY AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED,
BY THEIR
SINCERE FRIEND AND WELL-WISHER,
Tabitha Grimalkin.
TALES FROM CATLAND.
THE THREE CATS.
Many hundred years ago, in the good old times of the fairies, there
lived a young princess in a very grand palace. Its walls were of the
purest white marble, the doors were of orange-wood, the window-frames
were of gold, and the furniture of the rooms was of the most costly
description. The princess's drawing-room was hung with beautiful
tapestry, the curtains were of the richest crimson silk, all over
golden flowers, the mirrors reached from the floor to the ceiling, and
the chairs were of ebony inlaid with precious stones. And the princess
had two hundred and four best gowns, some of cloth of gold, some of
silver tissue; besides a great many others, nearly as good, that she
wore every day.
But my story has not so much to do with the princess, as with her
_cats_, for she had two; an elderly one, called Glumdalkin, and a very
frolicsome young one whose name was Friskarina. Glumdalkin was,
somehow or other, second cousin once removed to Friskarina, but years
older; and, to say the truth, Friskarina was not very fond of her:
however, in consideration of her age and relationship, she behaved on
the whole very civilly and respectfully to her. They were so very
different. And there was not the least family likeness, either, in
their persons. Glumdalkin was jet black, had an uncommonly cross pair
of green eyes, that seemed always on the look-out for something going
wrong, was very fat, and moved as if it was too much trouble to her to
walk across the room; while Friskarina's coat was of the richest
tortoise-shell, and though she was quite plump, and as sleek as
satin, yet there was not a more lively little creature in all Catland;
it quite did one good to see her jumping over the foot-stools in the
princess's drawing-room. She had a prodigious longing, sometimes, to
jump over cousin Glum's great broad back, as she sat before the fire;
but she knew _that_ would never do, so she was prudent, and contented
herself with scampering over the furniture; while Glumdalkin,
pretending to be sound asleep all the time, would be watching her with
one eye open the least bit in the world, and secretly wishing that
Friskarina might be unlucky enough to dash down one of the princess's
old china jars that stood under the table.
It was a cold winter's evening--_very_ cold--and the pages had drawn
the thick crimson curtains in the drawing-room, and the fire had been
mended, and was piled high up, blazing and crackling; the candles were
lighted, and Glumdalkin's velvet cushion had been placed ready for her
in front of the fire, and she was slowly crawling towards it, that
she might stretch herself out at full length, and digest the wing of a
boiled fowl that she had just been dining upon. The princess was lying
on the sofa by the side of the fire, apparently fast asleep. But she
was not asleep; and, moreover, she was watching Glumdalkin, who had
settled herself very comfortably on her cushion, while Friskarina,
looking much graver than usual, was sitting with her shoulders drawn
up to her ears, in quite an old cattish attitude, and her bright
shining eyes fixed thoughtfully on the fire.
Now you must know that the princess had an old aunt who was a fairy;
and she had bestowed upon her niece the faculty of understanding the
language of animals; a very amusing gift it was, and the princess
often derived great diversion from it. On the present occasion, as she
lay on her sofa after dinner, she thought it would be very good
entertainment to hear what Glumdalkin and Friskarina might be talking
about.
But some time passed before either said anything; at last, Glumdalkin
gave a great yawn, and flapping her tail rather angrily against the
cushion, remarked:
'Really, Friskarina, you are dreadfully stupid, to-night; you make
noise enough when I want to go to sleep: but now, when I am inclined
for a little rational conversation, you sit there as mum and sulky as
an old bear.'
Friskarina was used to polite observations from her second cousin once
removed, so she very quietly answered that she thought Glumdalkin had
been going to take a nap, and that she did not wish to disturb her.
'Well, I do admire that!' exclaimed Glumdalkin; 'you are wonderfully
considerate, all at once; now, _I_ think, Miss Friskarina, you have
been getting into mischief, and that's the reason you sit so quiet
there. I should like to know where you were all this morning, when the
pages were running all over the house after you, because the princess
wanted you, and nobody could find you? Well, people have strange
tastes! I should have thought she would have found the company of a
grave, decorous cat, like myself, who knows the ways of the court, and
has seen something of society, a great deal more agreeable than that
of such a ridiculous, light-headed thing as you are: I declare you
make me quite nervous very often, you jump about so! But she never
sent for _me_; so of course I could not go to her. The world's very
unlike what it was when I was young--very unlike indeed!' and, giving
an odd kind of grunt in her throat, Glumdalkin curled herself round on
the other side, as if in a sort of despair at the wickedness of the
world.
Friskarina thought she had not much to complain of, but she did not
venture to say it; so she answered, quite good-naturedly:
'I am very sorry, cousin Glumdalkin, that I was out when the princess
called for me, but _indeed_ I was in no mischief; I was seeing such
strange sights, it has made me quite unhappy ever since I came back.'
'Humph!' said Glumdalkin, 'and pray what wonderful things have you
been seeing?'
'Why,' replied Friskarina, 'I got uncommonly tired this morning of the
palace garden, I know every stick and stone in it so well. I had been
racing nine times round the gravel walk, and had got half way round to
make up ten, when, luckily, I saw that the gardener had left the outer
door ajar; so I thought I might as well take the opportunity of seeing
what there was on the other side of the wall; accordingly I peeped out
and found that I was in a kind of road, with some such odd looking
things, here and there, I don't know what to call them, but I fancy
people live in them, for I saw some persons going into one of them.
They were not in the least like this house that the princess lives in;
I am sure Grandmagnificolowsky, the tall page, could never have stood
upright in any one of them--and so black and dismal and dirty they
looked!'
'And you went into one of the nasty places, of course?' growled
Glumdalkin; '_cottages_, child, they are called.'
'You shall hear all, in good time,' answered Friskarina; 'I was
peeping about, outside our garden door, rather afraid to venture
further, when I saw _such_ a cat come out of one of these cottages, as
you call them--O Glumdalkin! it really would have made your heart ache
to have seen her. I had no idea there were such cats in the world. It
was dreadful to look at her; she was so horribly thin, you might have
counted her bones, and as dirty as if she had lived all her life in a
coal-hole: she crawled out of the door as if she had hardly strength
to walk, and _such_ a thin tail she had; it made me shudder to look at
her. I couldn't help going up and asking her what was the matter with
her----'
'What!' interrupted Glumdalkin, rousing herself up, her eyes flashing
fire, and her whiskers standing on end, 'do you mean to say, that
_you_--a cat descended from such an honorable and distinguished
family as ours--one of the most ancient in Catland--that you actually
demeaned yourself so far as to enter into conversation with a filthy,
beggarly wretch, crawling out of a miserable cottage? Friskarina, on
the honor of a cat, I am ashamed of you.'
'I certainly _did_ enter into conversation with her,' replied
Friskarina, plucking up a little spirit; 'for I asked her where she
lived, and why she was so thin and dirty.'
'I wonder,' said Glumdalkin, 'how you could bear to go near her.'
'But, one couldn't help it, you know,' said Friskarina, 'when she
looked so very wretched. Poor thing! when I asked her how it was she
was so thin, the tears came into her eyes, and she said, she had so
very little to eat. I asked her if her mistress never gave her any
cream? and--would you believe it?--she actually asked me what cream
was.'
'Why, you simple child,' said Glumdalkin, 'do you suppose _cottage_
cats ever taste such a thing? They think themselves lucky if they can
get a drop of skimmed milk now and then----' (Some people suspected,
but this is _quite_ between ourselves, that Glumdalkin, though she
boasted that she had never been outside the walls of the palace garden
in her life, knew more about the ways of cats in humble stations than
she chose to confess--her father, it was said, had married sadly
beneath his family.)
'I don't believe,' continued Friskarina, 'that _that_ poor cat ever
gets even skimmed milk; for she told me her mistress could not get
enough to eat herself, and that she hardly ever gave _her_ anything at
all; so that all she lives upon is a chance mouse, when she can catch
it, or the black beetles she finds on the floor at night. And when she
is thirsty, she goes to a gutter that runs by the side of the road,
and laps a little muddy water. Only fancy what a dreadful life to
lead. I had no notion that there was a cat in the world so badly off.
I really could not eat my dinner to-day, for thinking about it. It
seems so sad, to have all these nice things, all the great saucers of
cream that we have for breakfast, and these soft cushions to sleep
upon, and then to think of that poor cat, so near us, catching black
beetles (nasty things!) for her supper, and lapping out of the dirty
gutter; it makes me quite wretched.'
'Friskarina;' said Glumdalkin, rising from her velvet cushion, with a
great deal of majesty in her air, and curling her tail very solemnly
round her toes--'Friskarina, let us have no more of this nonsense, if
you please! I consider your behavior this morning, and your
conversation at present, utterly beneath the dignity of a cat of
condition. Remember the distinguished family from which you have
sprung, and that you have the honor to belong to the household of the
princess--so, pray, let me hear no more of making acquaintances among
the vulgar cats of the village; you will be a disgrace to the court!'
Friskarina shrugged her shoulders, and replied, in rather an
under-tone, 'that she really did not see anything _disgraceful_ in
being sorry for the unfortunate----' to which Glumdalkin made no
answer. She seemed to be seized with a violent fit of cleanliness, and
began washing and biting her right paw with extraordinary vehemence.
Just then, the entrance of Grandmagnificolowsky, and three or four
more of the pages, with the princess's supper, put an end to the
conversation. A fine gold dish, containing several dainty morsels,
which the princess had carved with her own royal hands, was put down
upon the velvet cushion, and Glumdalkin did them full justice.
When supper was over, two of the maids of honor carried the two cats
to their beds, where we will leave them for the night, in pretty
little baskets lined with yellow satin, and made so delightfully soft
and warm, that it almost made one go to sleep only to look at them.
Nevertheless, Friskarina lay awake a whole quarter of an hour,
turning over a plan in her little head, that she meant to try and
bring to pass the next day, if possible.
Glumdalkin was fast asleep in a minute. What was the princess doing?
She was lying in her splendid bed, thinking and watching the
fire-light dancing upon the spangles of her curtains, for her bed was
so beautiful--so very beautiful! It was made all of silver, in the
shape of a nautilus shell; and the curtains were of pale blue satin,
embroidered with silver flowers: you never saw such a lovely bed as it
was! And the longer the princess watched the light flashing so merrily
upon all the fine things in the room, the more she thought; and the
more she thought, the more unhappy she grew, but what she thought
about I can't tell you; perhaps we shall guess by and bye: I dare say
she dropped asleep at last.
During the night there was a heavy fall of snow. When the princess
came down to breakfast, the grass was covered with a sheet of pure
white--the trees quivered beneath the snow that covered their
boughs--the shrubs in the garden looked like a fairy-wood of frosted
silver glittering in the cold, bright sun--and far, far away, many
miles distant, rose high mountains, white and dreary, with pine
forests nodding on their summits. It was very--very cold.
Now there were few things Friskarina liked better than a gambol in the
snow; so, as soon as she had finished her breakfast, and had warmed
herself well at the fire, off she set, full drive, into the garden,
pattering hither and thither, that she might have the pleasure of
making as many footmarks as possible, and jumping up at the flakes
that came tumbling down from the laurel-leaves. Never was there such a
merry little cat! At last the thought struck her--the poor cottage
cat--did she like the snow, too? and Friskarina longed to know whether
she could come out that morning: perhaps she meant to sit by the fire
all day. By degrees, Friskarina recollected that she went to sleep the
night before with a plan in her head. So she ran down the lawn
towards the garden door, hoping to find it again open. Alas! the
ill-natured gardener had shut it quite fast. However, Friskarina was
not easily daunted; a cat of genius is never without resources. She
turned her eyes towards a thick trailing of ivy that grew up the wall,
and she began to wonder whether cousin Glumdalkin would be likely to
spy her out if she climbed up the ivy-tree, and so got over the wall
that way. She considered, however, that on such a morning as that,
Glumdalkin would be sure to be on the hearth-rug, with her nose as
close to the fender as possible, not troubling her head in the least
about the world out of doors.
So, making a vigorous spring, Friskarina was soon half-way up the
ivy-tree, shaking down a shower of white flakes every jump she made.
At length she was fairly at the top of the wall. It was a terrible
height from the ground, and there was no ivy on the other side to help
her down by.
So she sat down to rest, and look about her a minute. The miserable
cottages looked still _more_ miserable than they had done the day
before--the snow lay thick on their roofs--no smoke issued from their
chimneys--no one seemed stirring about them. Nothing could well be
more desolate.
Suddenly, the door of one of them opened, and an old woman came out,
followed by Friskarina's new friend, the unhappy cat. Such an old
woman Friskarina had never beheld, nor imagined, before. She was not a
bit like the Lady Dumbellinda, the princess's governess, the only old
lady Friskarina had ever seen, for _she_ was very fat, and had very
rosy cheeks, and very smooth hair, in set curls that never seemed to
get out of order; and she had very fine velvet gowns, and beautiful
clothes. But this poor old woman, who came out of the hut, was all
shrivelled up, as it were, and seemed as if she had hardly a bit of
flesh on her bones, and her hair was nearly as white as the snow, and
the wind blew it from under her cap in all directions; she had an old
rag of a gray cloak on, that she tried to keep about her, with one
hand, as well as she could, but the wind got in so through the holes,
that she might almost as well have been without it. She had come out
to look for sticks; for the gusts that swept down from the hills
snapped off the little twigs from the tall trees, and scattered them
about the road. After picking up a few, the poor old creature, shaking
her head, and shivering beneath the cold blast, turned back, and
re-entered her cottage; shutting her door after her, so that her cat
was left without. Poor pussy soon spied her friend, who had spoken so
condescendingly to her the day before, on the top of the wall, and she
saluted her with an air of the greatest deference and humility.
Friskarina returned her a gracious bow, and, without further
hesitation, dropped down from the wall.
It was lucky for her that there was a good thick bed of snow at the
bottom, so that she fell soft; but she rolled quite over. However,
she was nothing the worse, and she ran up to her new acquaintance;
and, after remarking what a snowy morning it was, demanded her name.
'My mistress calls me Tibb, please your ladyship;' said the poor
little cat, shaking with the cold.
'I did not know whether I should see you this morning,' pursued
Friskarina, 'I thought you might be sitting by the fire all day, as it
is so very cold.'
'Dear ma'am, we have no fire!' exclaimed poor Tibb, as if astonished
at the very idea of such a luxury; 'my mistress won't have a fire till
she wants to boil her dinner.'
'Then how do you ever keep yourself warm?' asked Friskarina, quite
horror-struck.
'Please, my lady, I never _am_ warm,' said poor Tibb, in a very
melancholy voice.
Friskarina was ready to cry, 'And you say they never give you any
dinner, either?' she said.
'Very seldom, indeed, your ladyship.'
'But your mistress must be dreadfully cruel,' exclaimed Friskarina,
'to take no more care of you than that!'
'What can she do?' replied Tibb, 'she has not got enough for herself
and her daughter, so it is not likely she can give me anything. If
your gracious ladyship would just please to step this way, and peep
under the door, you will see how my mistress lives.' So saying, Tibb
led the way to the hut; and Friskarina, crouching down to a very wide
chink under the door, saw a dwelling, the mere notion of which had
never entered her imagination till that moment.
'And have you lived _here_ all your life?' she said, drawing back at
length, and looking with the most sincere compassion at Tibb.
'Where else could I go, my lady?' replied the poor cat; 'it is better
than lying in the road.'
'And you absolutely don't know what it is to have a good dinner? How
very shocking! But now listen to me, Tibb; do you think you can
manage to climb over that wall?'
'I can but try,' replied Tibb, looking as if she began to have an
indistinct idea that her new friend meant to do something for her.
'Then,' continued Friskarina, 'if you will follow me, and keep quiet
behind the trees in the garden, I will give you part of my dinner
every day.'
Tibb's eyes sparkled as they had never sparkled before, at this
generous proposal; and, running to the wall, by the help of a
projecting stone here and there, she was presently at the top; then,
turning round, she watched Friskarina ascending after her. To scramble
down by the ivy-branches was the work of a moment, and the two cats
were soon hidden behind some low evergreen bushes that grew in front
of the wall.
'Now lie quiet here,' said Friskarina, 'till I come and call you.' So
saying, she scampered off through the snow towards the palace. The
door of the princess's drawing-room was not quite shut, so Friskarina
softly pushed it a little open, and peeped cautiously in.
Just as she expected, there sat Glumdalkin, on a high stool close by
the fire, looking more _solid_ than ever, and her back so awfully
broad! Moreover, she did not look by any means in the best of humors;
but she unbuttoned her eyes a very little atom as Friskarina came
towards the fire, and in a very gruff voice, asked her where she had
been so long?
'I'll tell you directly,' replied Friskarina; 'but really I must get a
little warm first, my jaws are quite stiff.'
'And it serves you right, too,' remarked the amiable Glumdalkin; 'if
you _will_ go out in the snow, when you might have a good warm house
over your head, and sit by the fire, you must take the consequences.'
Now, from some cause or other, Friskarina felt just then in a very
particularly good humor; so she answered, in a very cheerful tone,
that she was quite ready to take all the consequences, and that she
hoped _some_ good ones, at least, would follow from her going out that
morning.--'Though, indeed,' she added, 'I have been seeing some very
sad things.'
'Then, as sure as cream is cream,' exclaimed Glumdalkin, quite
fiercely, 'you've been talking to that good-for-nothing wretch of a
cat again. I am astonished at you, Friskarina!'
'Now, my dear cousin,' answered Friskarina, very quietly, 'just hear
me--let us talk the matter over a little: I am sure you would feel
just as I do about it, if you had been with me this morning.'
'Humph,' muttered Glumdalkin, '_I'm_ not sure of that at all. But,
tell your story, child. We shan't have any peace, I suppose, till you
have.'
Friskarina gulphed down a rather sharp speech that was just at the end
of her tongue, and went on with the recital of her adventures:--'I
have certainly seen the poor cat; and the cottage, too, in which she
lives--O Glumdalkin! such a place it is, you never saw anything like
it; there was not a bit of fire on the hearth, and in one corner there
lay a woman on a heap of straw, with an old rug over her. She was not
at all like the princess, or the maids of honor, for she had such a
thin white face, and such skinny hands, it was dreadful to look at
her--she was quite as thin as the poor cat: and the old woman, I mean
the cat's mistress, was stooping over her, and giving her something
out of a broken cup. Poor old woman! she groaned so, when she looked
at her, that it really went to my heart to hear her.'
'And pray,' interrupted Glumdalkin, 'what's all this to us? I do think
you take quite a delight in making one low spirited; as if the day
wasn't quite dismal enough already. Of course, one's very sorry for
the people, and all that sort of thing, but what good can _you_ do, I
should like to know, poking your nose into such places? You can't do
anything for them; and why should you put yourself into such a
ridiculous fuss? If you were the princess, now, you _might_ help the
people--but you, a cat, what can you do? It's no concern of yours.'
'It is too true,' sighed Friskarina, 'I can do no good to the old
woman and her sick daughter; but, with your leave, Cousin Glumdalkin,
I _can_ do something for the poor cat, and that will be better than
nothing: if one can't do what one would, one ought to do what one can.
And now, my dear good Cousin Glumdalkin, I want you to lend me a
helping paw, if you please.'
'Well, what now?' grumbled Glumdalkin.
'Why, you know they always give us our dinner behind the laurel trees,
on the grass, and you know, too, that they give us more than we want;
indeed, more than is good for us--for don't you remember, when you
were ill last autumn, the doctor said you ought to live more
sparingly? and they never take away the bits when we have done; so
that it is all our own property, and I was thinking that if you would
be so very kind as to leave a bone or two that you really don't want,
and I will do the same, the poor----'
Astonishment and indignation had, so far, kept Glumdalkin silent; but
now, finding voice once more, she burst forth into a perfect torrent
of wrath, declaring that not one bone would she leave--no! that she
wouldn't. _She_ wouldn't be answerable for bringing a parcel of
thieving cats about the house--a pretty thing indeed!--what did
Friskarina think the princess would say?
Friskarina meekly replied, that there would certainly be no thieving
in the case; for that their dinner was all their own, and if they did
not eat it all, it would only be left on the grass, to moulder away;
and she really could not think the princess would have any objection
to their relieving the poor cat's want, out of their own abundance.
But these, and other similar arguments were all wasted upon the
selfish Glumdalkin: she jumped down from her stool in a passion,
turned her back upon Friskarina, rolled herself round into a great
black ball, and seemed in a few moments to be fast asleep. Not that
she was asleep, though; and her bad humor was not much mended by
hearing the princess, who was lying on her sofa, call Friskarina to
her, in her most endearing accents:--'Her dear, good, darling little
Friskarina.'
'It's most uncommonly odd that she never calls for _me_,' thought
Glumdalkin.
Meanwhile, Friskarina had jumped up to her mistress, who stroked her
fondly, and kissed her, and Friskarina felt her face wet with tears.
'What can be the matter with the princess?' thought she; 'I am sure
_she_ can't have any troubles; O I wish she could see that poor woman
in the cottage!'
One o'clock--and the great bell of the palace rang--and then the cats
always went down to dinner, and the princess went down to her
luncheon. And a grand luncheon it was, for it happened that day to be
the princess's birth-day, and three of her cousins were coming to dine
with her, and they were going to have _such_ a plum-pudding--so _very_
big; and there was to be an elephant and castle, made of sugar, all
over gilding, at the top. But, somehow, when the princess sat down to
her luncheon, she did not look happy, notwithstanding her birth-day,
and her three cousins, and the great plum-pudding they were going to
have.
'May it please your royal highness,' said the tall page,
Grandmagnificolowsky, 'shall I put the cats' meat in the hall for
them, as the snow is so deep in the garden, to-day?'
'No, no, nonsense!' replied the princess, who had just helped herself
to the breast of a partridge, 'put it in the old place in the garden;
and here--put this wing and leg upon the dish too.'
Did not Glumdalkin's eyes sparkle when she got to the dish, and found
the wing of the partridge; how she devoured it! She was really so
busy, that she actually was some minutes before she discovered that
Friskarina had gently drawn away a mutton bone, with some beautiful
picking upon it, to a spot at a little distance among the trees, and
that she had then come quietly back, and was making her own dinner
upon the drumstick of a chicken, which she was eating very
deliberately, as if she were trying to make it last as long as
possible. There was still the leg of the partridge left, and two or
three other very delicate tit-bits, besides two large slices of cold
roast-beef. Glumdalkin had hardly swallowed the last morsel of the
wing, and was just thinking about the leg, when, to her unspeakable
surprise, the house-door opened, and out came the princess, attended
by one of the maids of honor, and followed by Grandmagnificolowsky.
The ladies were muffled up in their fur cloaks, and the maid of honor
seemed to be carrying a basket. Poor famished Glumdalkin! so great was
her astonishment, that she positively paused, with her claw suspended
over the leg of the partridge, to see what her royal highness could
possibly be about.
The princess no sooner came up to the place where the cats were
dining, than, stopping, she commanded the page to carry Glumdalkin
back to the house. 'That cat will eat herself into an apoplexy,' she
said; 'I never saw such a greedy creature!'
The astonishment, the indignation of Glumdalkin, what words can
describe? It _has_ been said, that she positively set up her back and
hissed at the princess; but I can hardly believe _that_. However,
whether she did or not, it made no difference. Grandmagnificolowsky
picked her up, and carried her into the house, not without plenty of
scratches for his trouble. The princess and the maid of honor passed
on, and went out at the garden door.
Here was a golden opportunity for Friskarina! She ran behind the
bushes, where Tibb was munching her bone with all her might; and
telling her to eat all that was left upon the dish, sat by, watching
her with the utmost satisfaction in her countenance, though she
certainly had not had a very capital dinner herself. Poor little Tibb!
She looked as if she hardly knew how to eat, for sheer joy! However,
she _did_ finish at last; and then, running up to Friskarina, called
her her only friend--her deliverer from starvation--and said many
other very affectionate things besides. But Friskarina cut them short,
by begging her to go home without delay, for fear the gardener should
find her, and hang her up to the apple-tree. That conclusion of her
morning's adventures not appearing desirable to poor Tibb, she lost no
time in following her friend's advice, and, with a scramble or two,
was soon over the wall, and on her road home.
Now Friskarina had a strong idea that it would be advisable to keep
out of Glumdalkin's way that afternoon as long as possible, having a
pretty tolerable notion of the sort of temper her respected relative
would be most likely to be found in, so, cold as it was out-of-doors,
Friskarina could not muster resolution to go into the house till it
was really getting quite late, almost tea-time. So she amused herself
with making foot-marks in the snow, and running after the twigs that
the wind blew about, and such like diversions, till it got almost
dark, and she began to feel very hungry, for she had not had much
dinner. That put her in mind of her new friend; and she reflected,
with great satisfaction, that poor Tibb certainly was not nearly so
hungry that night as she had been before: and then she began to wonder
where the princess could have been going to, and whether she would see
the poor old woman at the cottage: and Friskarina thought what a fine
thing it must be to be a princess, and to be able to help people who
were in distress. What a great deal of good I would do! thought she,
as she threw herself down to rest upon a little heap of snow. I would
be so careful, and never waste anything; and I would have all the
bones saved for the poor cats round my palace; and,--O what a deal of
good I would do, if I were only a great lady, like the princess! Just
then, a very odd thought came into Friskarina's head. She began to
consider whether she _had_ done all the good she might have done, as
it was: and suddenly it struck her, that she had very often, indeed,
ate a great deal more dinner than she really wanted, just because it
happened to be nice; and she remembered, that once or twice old Bear,
the watch-dog, who was chained up in the yard, had said to her, how
glad he should be to have something more to eat; and yet it was very
odd, but it had never occurred to her, that she might so easily have
saved him a bone or two at her dinner time, and yet have had plenty
for herself too.
So poor little Friskarina hung her head down, and felt quite ashamed;
the tears came into her eyes. 'Poor Bear!' she said, 'I might have
helped you very often, if I had only thought about you. I'm afraid I
have been very selfish!'
And then she began to think, that perhaps it was rather unkind in her
not to go and look after poor old Glumdalkin, who was, no doubt, in no
very _happy_ mood. So, screwing up her courage as well as she could,
she trotted up stairs, and, finding that the princess was just
entering the drawing-room, she slipped in after her. The fire was
blazing gloriously; but, at first, Friskarina was quite unable to see
anything of her second cousin once removed, (I'm afraid Friskarina now
and then sincerely wished her removed altogether!) for though the fire
was bright, there were no candles in the room, and it was a very large
one, so that the further extremity of it was rather dark. So she began
looking round, for she could not imagine where the old cat could be
gone to: at last, quite at the far end, she thought she perceived some
black object behind one of the chairs, and, on going up to it, found
Glumdalkin, with her eyes closed, her head very erect, her tail curled
very tight round her toes, and her whole person apparently immovable,
except, now and then, an angry twitch at the end of her tail.
Friskarina saw plain enough that she was not asleep; so, as she really
felt rather sorry for her, she asked her if she did not feel cold,
sitting so far from the fire.
'I beg, Ma'am, you won't trouble yourself about me,' was the gracious
reply; 'if I chose to sit by the fire, I should do so: I suppose the
princess would not order me out!' this was said with such a strange
kind of hysterical laugh, that Friskarina thought she was going to
burst into a fit of crying.
'Come,' she said, kindly, 'don't be so unhappy, my dear Glumdalkin! I
am sure the princess did not mean to be unkind to you; I do think she
was only afraid you might, perhaps, not be quite careful enough--might
take more than was really good for you; I'm quite certain she did not
intend anything uncivil.'
'And do you mean to say,' screamed Glumdalkin, 'that, at my time of
life, I'm to be dictated to by a young thing like the princess, and
that I can't be trusted to eat my dinner? No, indeed, I won't submit
to it! _I'm_ not going to bear such indignities! The princess will
find out her mistake when I am gone.'
'But,' said Friskarina, very gently, 'what can you do?'
'Do!' said Glumdalkin, striking her paw with great violence upon the
top of a footstool, 'do! why, can't I leave the palace? You don't
suppose I shall remain here another day, do you? I shall look out for
another situation directly--a cat like myself won't go a-begging.'
Friskarina was so astonished at this sudden resolve, that it was a
minute or two before she could answer; at length, she quietly asked
when Glumdalkin intended to quit the palace.
'To-morrow, decidedly;' replied Glumdalkin, 'perhaps I may stay till
after dinner, there's a basket of fish just come in, and I am really
not strong enough to encounter the fatigue of the thing in a morning,
it will be a great trial to me--very great.' And Glumdalkin put her
paw up to her eyes for a few moments; but Friskarina thought it did
not look at all wet when she put it down.
'I am very much concerned for you,' she said; 'and I do strongly
recommend to you not to think of going away: you will be lost in the
snow, and I am sure you would not like to take shelter in any of the
cottages; think what wretched places they are! What will become of
you? you will lose your way in the woods, or fall a prey to some wild
beast; do pray think better of it.'
Glumdalkin sat silent for some minutes, seemingly plunged in the most
dismal meditations.
'Well,' she said, at length, in a rather mollified tone, 'I have no
doubt you would all miss me dreadfully; you, especially, Friskarina,
as you are so young and giddy, and so little able to take care of
yourself; we will see, I don't wish to do anything unkind by you--'
Just at that moment Grandmagnificolowsky entered with the princess's
supper; and as the princess called 'Puss! puss!' several times,
Glumdalkin was forced at last to present herself, being rather hungry
besides; so she lapped a saucer of cream that her mistress
condescended to pour out for her, much more thankfully than usual, and
then went off to bed, thinking that, after all, she _might_, perhaps,
vouchsafe to remain in the palace; and she dreamt all night that she
was being pursued by wolves in a forest, and was forced to take refuge
in a miserable hut, where she had nothing to eat but a bit of mouldy
cheese, and nothing to drink but a drop of muddy water.
What did little Friskarina dream about? I can't tell you; but the
first thing she thought of, when she awoke in the morning, was poor
Tibb, and the wretched cold bed she had that night--how different from
her own, with its nice soft warm cushions.
Glumdalkin got up later than usual, and looked nearly as cross as when
she went to bed; but she said nothing more about going: and
Friskarina took care at breakfast to show her every possible
good-natured attention; she gave her by much the largest share of the
cream, took the draughty side of the hearthrug herself, and, in short,
did everything she could to show that she was anxious to be kind and
civil to her; but all her little politenesses seemed nearly lost upon
Glumdalkin.
She sate, humped up, all the morning by the fire, with her shoulders
up to her ears, and with a gleam in her eyes, if anybody came near
her, that was positively savage.
The princess sat in her drawing-room, looking very thoughtful and
rather sad. It was certainly very stupid work in the drawing-room that
morning.
Friskarina got tired of such dull company, and set off into the
garden. But first of all, she ran down into the court-yard, to have a
little conversation with Bear, the watch-dog, and hear the news.
Moreover, she wanted to find out how Bear's own affairs were going on,
and whether he had enough to eat now. And so, after a little chat
about the weather, and the probability of the wolves coming down from
the mountains, and so forth, she ventured delicately to inquire into
the state of his finances, as regarded bones and such things; and she
learnt, to her great satisfaction, that, since the new cook came into
office, Bear had been living in clover, as it were. Come, thought
Friskarina, that's one good thing, however; now I may keep all my
spare bits for poor Tibb! So, after a little further conversation
about the affairs of the nation, for Bear was a great politician, and
read the 'Canine Guardian' three times a week, and talked very
learnedly about the game laws, the friends parted. Bear laid himself
down to sleep in his kennel, and Friskarina scampered off into the
garden, to watch for Tibb's descent over the wall.
Punctually as the great bell of the palace rung, Tibb's ears appeared
among the top leaves of the ivy, and in a second she was at her
benefactress's side, looking so much less miserable than she did at
first, that it quite rejoiced Friskarina to look at her.
And now the house door opened, and out came a page, carrying a large
dish full of chicken bones, slices of meat, pieces of fish, and such
like delicate morsels, and closely followed by Mrs. Glumdalkin, making
such a clamorous mewing that one would have thought she had had no
breakfast.
Tibb, luckily, was hidden by a low bush; or I would not answer for it
that Glumdalkin would not have flown at her. However, she was too much
taken up with her dinner just then to look about her; for seeing a
beautiful piece of cold sole among the bits on the dish, and being
dreadfully afraid that Friskarina might take a fancy to it, she seized
upon it, and swallowed such a great piece whole, that the back-bone
stuck in her throat, and she could neither get it up nor down. She
coughed--she gasped--but there the bone stuck,--she coughed again,
quite convulsively, still the bone remained immovable; Friskarina, who
was at a little distance, grew very much alarmed, and running up to
her, thumped her on the back; but all in vain, her struggles became
absolutely frightful to witness; she kicked, she groaned--she started
to her feet, and ran, in an agony, like a mad thing, twice round the
grass, shrieking with pain; at length, sinking down, completely
exhausted, she stretched out her limbs, quite stiff, and giving a
fearful groan, breathed her last!
Friskarina, exceedingly terrified, ran behind the bushes to call Tibb
to her assistance, for she did not know, at first, that Glumdalkin was
really dead: but what was her astonishment to find Tibb gone, and in
the place where she had left her, an odd looking old lady, in a red
satin petticoat, trimmed with gold fringe, a gray cloak, a hat with a
very high crown, and she carried in her hand a long ebony stick, with
a queer silver head to it.
'Come hither, pretty Friskarina!' cried the old lady; and stooping
down, she patted her back, saying, 'So you were going to save your
own dinner for me, you good little creature.' Friskarina looked at her
with the utmost amazement; and it was not much lessened when the old
Fairy (for it was the princess's aunt), stroking her again, thanked
her for the good lesson she had taught her niece. What a strange old
lady; thought Friskarina, what can she possibly mean?
Meanwhile, the princess had been looking out of the window, and
perceived her fairy aunt, with a little secret consternation, for she
was rather afraid of her; however, she hastened down stairs to receive
her, wondering all the time what she could be come for.
'So, niece!' was the old lady's salutation, 'I find you have been
indebted to your cat for the best lesson you have had for this many a
day.'
The princess stooped down to kiss the fairy's hand. 'It is too true,
indeed, dear aunt;' she replied, 'but I hope it is a lesson which I
shall be the better for as long as I live. I blush to think that I
should have been so long insensible to the wants and miseries of the
poor people who were dwelling so near me, till, as you say, my little
cat's example taught me how selfish and unfeeling I had been.'
'It is well for you, niece,' said the fairy, 'that you visited the
poor old woman's cottage yesterday, and took her what was needful to
supply her wants; for you little thought,' added the old woman,
laughing rather maliciously, 'that the poor miserable cat, who was
sitting behind the door, was your old aunt. I say, it was lucky for
you that you bethought yourself at last of your duty; or, I promise
you, the last should have been your very last night in your
palace--_that_ it should,' she continued with increasing vehemence,
striking her stick on the ground till the walk rang again. 'Let me
find things _very_ different when I pay you my next visit!' And with
these words, waving her ebony wand in the air, the fairy vanished; and
the princess found that her own fine dress had disappeared too, and
that a gown of plain gray cloth had taken its place.
But only imagine her consternation when she went into the palace! All
the gay things were gone out of the drawing-room; the thick velvet
curtains no longer hung from the windows--there were no soft easy
chairs--no pretty ornaments; her beautiful silver nautilus-shell, with
its pale blue satin curtains, was gone also; and in its place, there
was a plain little bed, with brown stuff furniture, so exceedingly
ugly and dismal, that the princess declared to herself she should
never be able to get a wink of sleep in it. In short, all her favorite
apartments wore an air of what seemed to her the most utter
desolation.
Yet the princess had all the necessaries of life left; there was
plenty of bread and meat in the larder, though all the dainty things
were gone; there were coals and wood enough in the cellar; she had a
good bed to lie upon; and her house was a palace still in comparison
with the cottage of the poor old woman who lived near her gate. But
she was some time in finding that out. Poor princess! when she looked
round her drawing-room, she burst into tears. Just then, a voice near
her said, 'They are taken away till you have learnt to pity others,
and to be unselfish!' She turned, and caught a glimpse of the Fairy's
red petticoat disappearing through the door-way.
When she was sufficiently recovered to go round the house, and see
what was left, she found, to her great satisfaction, that all her
money was spared, and she determined, in future, to make a very
different use of it.
The melancholy decease of Glumdalkin threw several distinguished
families in Catland into mourning; but I never heard that any body
particularly lamented her.
'And so the princess and Friskarina went on living together in the
palace?'
Why no, not exactly: but you shall hear about it. One fine bright
morning, not many days after the Fairy's visit, Friskarina was
sitting, all by herself, on the drawing-room window-seat, thinking
over all the wonderful things that had happened, when suddenly she
saw, flying past the house, a pair of milk-white doves, with silver
collars round their necks, and bearing between them what seemed to be
a small white box, which they gently placed upon the lawn, and then
they flew away. The white box grew taller and taller, larger and
larger; till, in a few minutes, there stood the loveliest little
cottage you ever beheld. Its walls were of the richest carved
ivory--there were two parlors in it, one for the winter, which faced
the south, and was lined with crimson velvet, and the other for
summer, hung with sea-green silk. The chairs and tables were of
satin-wood; the cups and saucers of the prettiest porcelain; and there
were crystal flower-pots in the windows, filled with maiden-blush
roses and lilies-of-the-valley. Over the door was written in golden
letters,
'A PRESENT FOR FRISKARINA.'
I do not think you ever beheld such a charming dwelling for a cat;
and Friskarina took possession of it, and commenced housekeeping
directly, and the princess presented her with a superb silver
cream-jug, towards her stock of furniture. And, as there were more
rooms in her cottage than she wanted for her own use, Friskarina took
in six infirm, homeless cats, advanced in life, and provided for them
as long as they lived; and when they died, she supplied their places
with others, equally necessitous. As Glumdalkin died without a will,
Friskarina, being her nearest relation, of course, succeeded to her
property, which chiefly consisted of that delightful soft bed, of
yellow satin, which I told you about before, and which, together with
her own, Friskarina immediately set aside for the use of the two
oldest and most rheumatic cats in her establishment.
And now I must tell you a little more about the princess: when the
Fairy paid her next visit to her, which was in about a year's time,
she found a great change for the better in her. Instead of lying in
her bed half the morning, she was up by six; instead of sitting all
day on the sofa, reading nothing but story-books and silly fairy-tales
(which, of course, sensible people never read), she studied wise books
of history and geography, and made flannel petticoats, and knitted
warm stockings for the poor, and went to see them at their own
dwellings: in short, she had become as useful as she had been idle and
selfish before. The wretched huts at her gate were gone, and in their
place was a very pretty row of cottages; and such nice, neat old
people lived in them--for, as for the young and healthy, the princess
ordered them to go out into the world and earn their own livelihood.
'But, did the princess ever get back her fine things?'
Why that is rather a puzzling question. Some people say that she never
did: others believe that the Fairy made her the offer of them, but
that she declined it, thinking that she should, perhaps, grow too fond
of them again: while some other people say, that the Fairy gave her
back those things which her high station as a princess required, but,
that the young lady herself begged her to keep those things which
would only have tended to make her vain and self-indulgent. And I am
very much disposed myself to think that this account of the matter is
the true one.
[Illustration]
THE DISCONTENTED CAT.
Once upon a time--I can't say exactly when it was--there stood a neat,
tidy little hut on the borders of a wild forest. A poor old woman
dwelt in this hut. She lived on the whole pretty comfortably; for,
though she was poor, she was able to keep a few goats, that supplied
her with milk, and a flock of chickens, that gave her fresh eggs every
morning: and then she had a small garden, which she cultivated with
her own hands, and that supplied her with cabbages and other
vegetables, besides gooseberries and apples for dumplings. Her goats
browsed upon the short grass just outside the garden, and her chickens
ran about everywhere, and picked up everything they could find. There
were some fine old trees which defended the cottage on three sides
from the cold winds, and the front was to the south; so it was very
snug and sheltered. The forest afforded her sticks and young logs for
fuel, so that she never was in want of a fire; and, altogether, she
managed to make out a pretty comfortable life of it, as times went.