CHAPTER XXV

EVENTIDE 261

DAISY

THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CAT

DAISY

_AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY_

I

EARLY DAYS

I have no doubt people will wonder that a Cat should write a story. Of

course, fighting is more in their line.

However pleased I might have been to help my fellow-sufferers, and use

my natural weapons in their defence, a remark I heard made by a very

learned man decided me to use my brains instead of my claws.

He quoted:--

"The _pen_ is mightier than the _sword_."

Taking this quotation for my text, I have written my own story, hoping

it will benefit the poor cats who are made the victims of great cruelty.

No other animal has to suffer like the household pet, the cat.

I am a Boston boy, born eighteen years ago, in one of the nice

old-fashioned houses for which our quiet street was noted.

I was born in a clothes-basket, and do not feel ashamed of my

birthplace, though fire and the swill man long ago removed all trace of

it.

I cannot remember much about my home. Like all young things, my food and

having a good frolic were all I thought of.

I loved my mother, for she was very kind to me while I depended on her

for sustenance; but when I grew large enough to lap milk, she began to

wean me and teach me that hard lesson--self-dependence.

My mother was very handsome--black as coal, with a long tail and white

feet. She was very proud of the latter, keeping them as white as snow;

and on account of their beauty she was called "White Foot." She was very

graceful and slender--her fur soft and glossy as a raven's wing.

She had brilliant, restless eyes, fierce in expression and watchful,

never seeming to trust even her friends. But every one was attracted to

her.

We had not much room to boast of. The back yard was very small, but over

the way a large unoccupied field gave us a grand opportunity to run and

enjoy ourselves.

It was a great neighborhood for cats. Though I thought them rough and

aggressive, I enjoyed myself, for I could outrun the biggest of them,

and never allowed myself to be defeated.

One day my mother called me to her, and said: "I wish you to listen to

what I am about to say to you. The cats who live here are rough alley

cats, and have never learned good manners. You have a better chance than

they have, and I hope you will grow up gentle and sweet-tempered. Never

bite or scratch, and learn to control your angry passions. Then you will

be a favorite and a very happy cat--happier than your mother, who never

had a chance till now. And _now_ it is too late. I shall not be with you

long, and you must try to do the best you can for yourself when I am

gone."

This conversation with my mother made me very sad, though I was young

and full of frolic, and did not fully realize her true meaning. I never

forgot her advice, for I knew she was a very wise cat, and her wisdom

had been gained through suffering. My life with her was short, for she

left us before I was six months old.

Perhaps here I had better tell her story as she related it to me. She

had always been very strict with me, and taught me to be very neat, and

keep my fur and my claws clean. My claws were a great delight to me,

they were so sharp, and I used to bite them with great satisfaction. It

was delightful to feel how sharp my teeth were.

Though I did not use a "toothpick," my nails were very useful instead,

and I bit them and enjoyed the fun. But one day I bit them so loud that

my mother, after reproving me many times, boxed my ears. She was very

nervous, and the snapping provoked her very much.

Of course, I was obliged to obey her; but I bit them all the same, only

on the sly.

II

MY MOTHER'S STORY

I do not know where I was born. I can only remember a dark cellar where

I seemed to belong, and children who drove and frightened me every time

I went near the house. The cook was kind to me and put out scraps of

food in an old tin plate. I was often obliged by hunger to pick from the

swill barrel my dinners. I soon found plenty of rats, and after I

learned to kill them, life had some charm for me.

It was a dirty, damp, dark cellar, for the people who owned the house

were of the "newly rich" class. They thought only of decorating that

part of the house open to public inspection. Everything was made to pay

its way, and the servants were kept on short rations.

I earned my living (picked from the swill barrel) by killing rats, for

the house was infested with them. No one ever spoke a kind word to me,

and I often wondered why I was made. I would creep into the house like a

criminal.

Once I enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in a chair. Oh, how soft and nice

it was, and I began to purr, with the sense of happiness. But I was

rudely shaken from my dream of bliss, and this was the only chance I

ever had to test the delights of easy chairs. I was driven out with

stones and bits of wood till I gladly found refuge for my poor bruised

body in the cellar. There I lay in hunger and pain, my heart filled with

bitterness toward all mankind. I felt the injustice, if only a poor cat.

It was a great neighborhood for cats, and I soon made friends with them.

I was perfectly reckless, and caterwauled with them, joining their

midnight revels with all my heart. We cared not for bottles or

bootjacks, but made night terrible. Why should we keep quiet? We had no

homes, no nice beds, no friend to speak to us. Why should we care to

please those who remembered us only to abuse us?

Now this is all very sad. Since I have seen what life ought to be, in

this dear home, I wish with all my heart I had earlier known these good

people. I am very thankful that you, my only living child, will grow up

in this refined atmosphere.

To return to my dismal history. Soon after my introduction to the

nightly revels, I had my first kittens. I never was so happy in my life.

Though I had suffered all alone the most severe pain, the dear little

creatures compensated me for my hours of anguish. There were four of

them. Two of them were black, and two of them gray. Such perfect little

creatures, I was delighted with them. Though we had only an ash-heap for

our bed, I kept them on my fur, and did not care for the ashes on my own

nice fur coat. No mother on her bed of down, with laces and embroideries

around her, could have kept her children nicer than I kept mine.

I followed just the instinct my Maker gave me, and what came after was

from no fault of mine, but from the wickedness of human nature, which

has unsettled my beliefs and made me a sceptical and unbelieving cat.

I hated to leave my kittens to take my food. How I fought for the best I

could get, to nourish them! I swallowed things I had always disliked,

for I was determined to carry back milk enough for all four of them.

This happiness lasted but a short time. The tyrant of the family, a

dreadful boy of ten years, discovered them one morning. With shouts of

delight, he took them and dropped them, one by one, into a pail of

scalding hot water.

The cook called to him and tried to remove the pail, but it was too

late; he continued his cruel work till my four dear little kittens were

lost to me forever.

When I heard their last feeble wail, I tried to save them or share their

fate. I was driven back with laughter, and the blows from a huge stick

in the hands of the young murderer soon drove me down to the cellar,

where I lay bruised, and oblivious of my pain and loss, for some hours.

Late at night I crawled out, faint and hungry, a hopeless outcast on the

face of the earth. Tom, one of the neighbors' cats, shared his supper

with me, and listened with sympathy to my sad story.

"Oh, is that all?" he said, when I had finished. "You may be glad they

are dead, and out of the reach of that boy. If he is not hung," said

Tom, with a wise shake of his head, "I miss my guess. Why, he is the

terror of the neighborhood. He invents cruel things to practise on

animals. Some time ago he cut a little baby pup's throat with a

penknife, and sewed it up with cotton and a great big needle, while he

never winced. The little pup died in great agony. And the boy's mother

said, 'The dear child will certainly be a doctor, he has such skill.'

Old Tabby, who lives next door, when she heard this speech of his

mother's, said, 'He may be, and is, a devil, but he never ought to be a

doctor.' And as we all believed in this wise saying, we gave old Tabby

three cheers."

Tom tried to comfort me, telling such heartrending stories of the abuse

of poor cats that my hair stood on end with horror. I then and there

vowed hatred to all mankind. Even the peace of this dear home and the

love of these dear people have not cured me of my distrust. I see an

enemy on every hand.

Tom could not console me, and I was too wretched to confide my plans to

him. I was suffering intense agony. My breasts were swollen like

crab-apples. I could not bear the pain, and dragged myself to a puddle

of water, hoping to cool the heat in them.

That night's suffering was the turning-point with me. I made up my mind

I would take myself miles away from these cruel people, where every hand

had been against me and mine.

I started slowly, and crawled through alleys and back yards, it seemed

to me, for miles. The sound of a human voice, particularly that of a

child, acted like a whip on me. I would run till my breath grew short,

and I would sink down, feeling I must die, that I could never move

again. Then at some sound I would start once more.

At last, worn out with fatigue, hunger, and fever (caused by my inflamed

breasts), I reached a gate just as it opened to admit a man with

groceries. I rushed in, spent and breathless, and hid myself in a dark

corner. Here, thought I, will be a rest for one night.

As I crouched down in the dark corner, the man came out of the house,

with the servant behind him, to close the gate. What an anxious moment

for me! She returned to the house without seeing me, and I was safe.

After a brief rest, broken by the throbbing of my breast, I aroused

myself, and, attracted by a bright light, I approached the window. The

light came from the kitchen, where the half-curtain, open in the middle,

gave me a glimpse of paradise.

This is the picture I looked upon with longing eyes: A large,

old-fashioned kitchen, scrupulously clean, a table covered with a red

cloth, a shade lamp standing in the centre, and a nice work-basket by

its side, completed this homelike picture. The servant, a woman of

middle age, nice, fresh, and pleasant looking, sat by the table, in a

large rocking-chair, darning stockings. A more homelike scene never

greeted the eye of a poor outcast. But the crowning object of all was a

large black cat, spread out on a nice rug in front of the fire.

Presently she arose, walked about, swinging her tail, "monarch of all

she surveyed," as I soon found she was.

How my heart beat as I thought, "Why is this? Why am I homeless, cast

out to starve, while this cat has a beautiful home and is well fed and

happy?"

Alas! even in the animal world is the vexed question, which disturbs

human beings, of why one being, created by our "Heavenly Father," should

be high in power, while others who are just as worthy are down under his

feet. We ask, but who can answer?

Very soon, while I stood looking in, shivering with envy and my bodily

pain, a door opened, and a lady came in. She was no longer young, but

ladylike, and very kind and pleasant looking. She sat down and called,

"Topsy, Topsy," in such a kind voice it made my heart ache. I looked

with surprise, for Topsy took not the least notice of her. The lady

laughed a very pleasant laugh, as she said, "What an odd creature you

are," as she took Topsy in her arms, and smoothed her fur. Topsy did not

seem to care for the affection lavished on her, never responding at all.

But just then another lady, somewhat younger than the other, came in.

Topsy gave a great rush into her arms, and to my surprise, clasped her

black paws around her neck, while the lady hugged and kissed her just

like a child.

I could watch no longer. Envy, hatred, and malice, added to my swollen

breasts, made me too wretched to live. I just dragged myself back to my

dark corner and closed my eyes for a long time, oblivious of everything

around me. At intervals I slept when the violent throbbing of my breasts

would allow me; but when I could think, one idea had taken full

possession of me, and that was a determination to get into this home.

"Surely," I said, "they have such kind hearts, they will not refuse help

to such a miserable object as I am."

This comforted me a little; and as the neighborhood was a quiet one, and

as I was worn out by the miles I had run and the pain of my bruises, I

was able to sleep till morning.

The first thing I heard was a step approaching, and Bridget, the girl I

had seen the night before, bent over me, saying, "Bless me! here's a

strange cat in our yard." Then, as she looked again, she said in a

sympathizing voice, "Poor creature! you look half starved."

She ran in, and soon returned with a saucer of milk. She held it to my

lips, and I tried very hard to move myself up, that I might swallow. It

was impossible; for the slightest movement gave me great pain, and I

moaned and closed my eyes.

She then got an old blanket, and folding it nicely, she lifted me up

tenderly and placed me on it. I tried to lap some of the milk, but the

effort brought back all my pains. The anguish of my swollen breasts was

more than I could bear, and I fell back on the blanket, hoping I should

die. Everything was so peaceful that I had no desire to arouse myself to

battle with life any longer.

"Here," I thought, "they will care for me and bury me, then I shall be

with my dear little kittens perhaps."

I had no fear, but a great pleasure in a quiet death; for I knew that

God would care for all the creatures He had made. I was glad to die and

escape from persecution,--no more to be kicked and cuffed, no more be

hunted by cruel children.

As I dozed off, I heard voices, and on opening my eyes I saw Miss

Eleanor, the lady I had first seen the night before. As she bent over

me, I thought her face was beautiful. Her eyes were filled with tears in

pity of my suffering. She smoothed my fur with her soft hand, and when I

moaned as she touched my breast, she exclaimed, "You poor creature! your

breasts are like bricks. Look here, Milly," she called to her sister,

"just see this poor cat's condition. What brutes she must have lived

with, to treat her in this manner, taking away her kittens, and leaving

her to suffer."

"Take her in, Bridget, and put her in Topsy's basket," said Miss Milly.

"I wish I could deal with those people! They would never abuse another

cat."

I was lifted tenderly and placed in a large basket, with a beautiful

soft rug inside to lie on. Miss Eleanor bathed my breasts with warm

milk, and then applied some healing lotion after the milk had dried. It

kept them very busy, for the heat dried the milk as soon as it was

applied. It was very soothing, and I tried to lick her hand. She was

delighted, and kissed me right between my eyes, saying, "She is a

grateful creature," while tears of sympathy shone in her eyes.

"This is heaven," I said to myself, "and I am perfectly happy here."

When Bridget brought me some warm milk, I was able to lap it very well.

"What shall you do with her?" asked Bridget.

The sisters looked at each other while Miss Eleanor said: "What will

Harrie say? We cannot keep another cat with Topsy."

"We may find a good home for her, but it would be better to chloroform

her than leave her to suffer," said Miss Milly.

The warm kitchen, the soothing cream, and the soft rug made me very

comfortable, and I slept the rest of the day, trusting myself to these

dear, kind people.

Miss Eleanor came quite often to see me, bringing me cream and soft bits

of chicken, though, never having tasted such food before, I did not know

what it was. I had very little desire for anything but water or milk, as

the fever made me very thirsty.

Miss Milly came down later in the evening with the elder sister, the

mistress of the house. Mrs. Rice was a sweet-faced little woman, and

looked with great kindness on me.

"What shall we do with two cats? Topsy is a houseful. What will you do

with her, Milly? She is so jealous if you touch another cat."

"I will manage her, for we must keep this poor creature till we find her

a good home."

"You have a hard task, and when you introduce her to Topsy, 'may I be

there to see.'" And Mrs. Rice turned away, laughing. "This bids fair to

be the 'cats' house' that Eleanor used to tell the boys about."

"There is no use waiting," said Miss Milly. "If Topsy should find a cat

in her basket, war would be declared at once."

This made me tremble a little, and subsequent events proved I had good

reason for my fears.

Pretty soon we heard Miss Milly coming downstairs and telling my story

to Topsy in a coaxing voice. She told it in so thrilling a manner that I

never realized I was such a sufferer before. She came in, holding Topsy

in her arms very tightly.

The moment Topsy's yellow eyes rested on me she gave a yell, and tried

to escape, but her mistress held her fast while Miss Eleanor came over

to me. I cowered down in the basket--not from fear, oh, no! Like the

war-horse, I "scented the battle," and longed to measure claws with this

proud creature. But I was wise. I knew I had a character to sustain and

a home to earn. I kept my temper, closing my eyes as if too weak to open

them.

"I think I had better take her in my arms, as this is Topsy's basket,

and you know she never allows any one to touch it." And Miss Eleanor

took me on a blanket, and held me on her lap.

"You are a naughty cat, and I am ashamed of you," Miss Milly said, as

she put Topsy down.

She did not care for the reproof, for she glared and scoffed at me. Then

she went to her basket, snuffing around it, till Bridget came, and

taking out the rug, said, "Of course I must shake it, or Madam will not

touch it."

She soon brought it back, and after a time Topsy seated herself bolt

upright, and looked at me with such contempt, as if to say, "Never dare

enter this basket again."

I never did, and never wanted to, as they found me a very good place in

an old clothes-basket, and, to Bridget's delight, gave her a new one

instead.

Then Miss Milly took me in her arms, in spite of Topsy's yells and

frantic efforts to get at me, saying, "Now, Topsy, if I ever hear you

have treated this poor creature badly, I will punish you, and love her

best."

After this, though Topsy never cared for me, she treated me like a poor

relation, offering me all the tough pieces of meat and bones; but she

could never see me near Miss Milly without trouble.

We lived very happily in this nice house for one year. No one had cared

for me, and I had settled down like one of the family, and soon my place

was assured, for one day Topsy was missing. Everything was done to find

her. Rewards were offered, and, for months, Miss Milly never gave her

up, and it made her so ill that no one ever dared mention Topsy to her.

I did pity them all, for they loved her dearly, but to Miss Milly it was

like losing a child. She was always very kind to me, but she never was

known to pet another cat till you were born. And I do think, Daisy, you

can win her love, and in a measure console her for Topsy's loss.

It was a great mystery, her disappearance, for they never got one trace

of her. One thing was very sure; she was stolen, for she never would

have left of her own accord. Some one suggested that, being a "Salem"

cat, she had gone home to the "witches," as all black cats are said to

belong to them.

I missed her, but was very happy to be the only pet in the house. I had

many kittens, and they were treated kindly, and mercifully disposed of.

One was always kept till I could wean it, and then a good home was found

for it. You were promised to a friend, but it was very fortunate for you

that their delay in sending gave you such a hold upon the affections of

these nice people that they decided not to give you away.

This pleased the boys, as they did not care to lose their dear little

playmate. Miss Milly said, "Daisy shall be mine."

Great changes have come to this home. We have moved twice, and the good

Bridget they could no longer afford to keep. We are now about to move

again. I know they will provide for me, but I like this nice

neighborhood, and the musicales on the back shed. The Bohemian blood in

my veins I cannot ignore.

The trouble I have passed through makes excitement necessary, and I put

my whole heart into the fierce fights, and enjoy them.

Why not? I know people say, "_Cats!_ awful fighting creatures!" Well,

but where are the bull-fights, in which man and beast shed each other's

gore and men and women look on? Dressed in their laces and diamonds,

they applaud while rivers of blood flow from the poor wounded victim.

The genteel cock-fights, and hunting down one poor little fox by a pack

of hounds! If we are cruel, we learn it of human beings.

I do wish I could be satisfied with a quiet life, but it is too late to

reform, and I shall meet my fate here. I will not go with them. You, my

dear child, will be the loved one to comfort them. And I charge you to

profit by your mother's experience, and you will be a fortunate cat.

* * * * *

This is my mother's story as I heard it from her lips.

Two weeks after this conversation we moved to a small house, with only a

few rooms. To me the change made no difference. I was happy, petted by

all. It was no surprise to me that at the last moment my mother was

missing. But it was a real sorrow to them all. They searched everywhere.

They sent to all the neighbors, asking them to feed her, and let them

know if she came back that they could send for her. How I wished I could

speak, and tell them that one reason why she left them was the fear of

being a burden to them.

For several weeks they never gave her up, but often went to the old

place; but no one had seen my mother. At first food had disappeared that

they had put out for her, but after a time it was not touched, and no

one ever saw her again.

III

MY HOME

Years have passed since my mother left us. Though I never forget her, I

am very happy with the dear people who were so kind to my poor mother,

and I try to be a comfort to them.

No reverses of fortune have touched me. Mrs. Rice is very kind to me,

though she is not so fond of cats as her sisters. The boys are just

perfect. I love them dearly. Karl, the eldest, is a real tease. He

pretends to his aunties that he does not care for me, but no one makes

more of me (on the sly) than Master Karl. Will is such a dear little

fellow! His love for me made them decide to keep me.

We had one long room, and the seam in the poor old carpet was very

prominent. On this seam Will and I had our race-ground. He would run

just on the seam, and at the end of the room would jump very high. I

would run just behind him, and jump higher. This pleased them all, and

we got many kisses and treats for our play. Then we would roll over and

over, my claws and tail flying, and we did enjoy it.

I was usually very obedient, but sometimes I had contrary fits. It was

the "Bohemian" blood in my veins that my poor mother so often spoke of.

I cannot get rid of it, and it makes me do something naughty. One cold

day, just before Christmas, when I was nearly five years old, I ran

away. The door of the laundry was open, and without a thought I rushed

out. No one missed me. They supposed I was in the laundry. I mounted to

my seat on the fence, and just turned around to find a comfortable

place, when a strong hand seized me from the other side, and I was

carried swiftly down the alley and taken into a strange house.

I was received with open arms. Not one word of reproof was given the big

boy who had stolen me, for the wickedness of the act. They asked him,

"How did you manage?"

"Oh," he said, "I was looking over the fence, to see if the stuck-up

Rices were there, when I espied my Prince, and grabbed him."

"What shall we do with him?" asked the boy's mother.

"Shut him up till he forgets his old home."

(How little they knew about a cat's nature, when they thought I could

forget!)

I rushed into a corner, and struck out with open claws at all who

approached me, growling just as I had heard dogs growl--an

accomplishment I had just discovered. Delighted with my success, I was

inclined to make the most of it.

"Well, I must say he has a nice temper." And the bad boy held up his

hands, where my etchings, though painful to him, were a credit to my

skill. "King Karl and Prince Will must be covered with scars. Who cares!

If they won't play with me, I have got their pet cat, and will keep him,

in spite of his beastly temper."

"No, you won't," I said to myself, "if I can help it."

For three wretched days I was shut up. They treated me with great

kindness, and tried to pet me, offering me nice food. I was too homesick

to care for anything, and too wretched to think of eating, only that I

had sense enough to know I must take enough to give me strength. I could

not sleep. Visions of my dear home and loved ones kept my eyes wide

open, and I did make good resolutions never to run away again if I could

get free.

The big boy went away to spend the holidays, leaving orders with them

all to keep me, that when he came home he might enjoy the sorrow of the

Rices.

"They have sent around slips to all the houses and have advertised, but

they shall never get him," he said, with a horrid laugh.

After he had gone, finding I was no pleasure to them, they decided to

let me go. They could tell the boy, when he returned, that I ran away.

They were not people who regarded truth at all.

So one day I found the door open, and without waiting to say good-by, I

ran home. I had been away three days. It was the day after Christmas,

and it seemed to me three years since I left my home.

Stacy Knight, a dear little fellow about Will's age, the son of the

friends in whose house we had rooms, happened to be in the basement, and

espied me when I jumped on the window. He gave a real Indian yell as I

rushed into his arms, and we mounted the stairs, two at a time, and

found ourselves in the midst of the family assembled in the hall,

wondering at the war-whoop given by Stacy.

My dear mistress sat down on the floor, hugging me in her arms, while

all of them were ready to take me from her.

"Oh, Daisy," she said, "what a sad Christmas we spent without our pet!

Where were you?"

I could not speak and tell her what it had been to me, and they never

knew where I had been. After this I always looked on both sides of the

fence before I seated myself.

After they had all caressed me and expressed their delight at my return,

dear Mrs. Knight said:--

"Now that 'The Prodigal Son' has returned, he must have a party."

"Yes," said Karl and Will, "we had no Christmas; let's give Daisy a

tree."

After Stacy, Karl, and Will had indulged in a war-dance, and each had

turned me heels over head, they all decided it would be a nice plan. And

from that time till the New Year's night, when the party was to be

given, we could think of nothing else.

IV

DAISY'S PARTY

Great preparation was made for my party. I was truly a fortunate cat. I

could not help them work, but rushed to and fro from one to the other,

knocking down spools of cotton and everything I could get at, jumping up

in their arms, disarranging their work, and trying in every way to amuse

myself; but when I was wanted to try on my clothes, I would rush under

the bed and elude even the longest arm. Then Will would crawl under the

bed, and, after a good frolic, would land me where I was needed.

Mrs. Rice made a tall black hat with a cockade on it. She had to tie it

on with strings, for as soon as she put it on I jerked it just as I had

seen monkeys do.

Miss Eleanor made me a pair of red pants, leaving a good slit for my

tail, for I was to represent a monkey, and the tail was very important,

though, as my mistress said, no monkey ever had such a beautiful tail as

mine.

Miss Milly made me a dress-coat, with white ruffles at the neck and

wrists, brass buttons, and a white shirt front.

They covered a large pasteboard box with green cloth, for the organ.

Will and his friend Josie were to be the organ-players.

The long-looked-for day came at last. I had raved up stairs and down, as

Miss Milly said, "just like a maniac." I superintended all the

preparations, walked over the tree that they were to decorate in my

honor, and scratched it well, as they said, sharpening my claws for the

evening. I was too busy to take a cat-nap or one of my "forty winks."

We had before this eventful day rehearsed our parts, and I had provoked

them with my stupidity. I did make fun enough with that hat. I hitched

it on the back of my head, getting out first one ear, then the other;

for they had tucked my ears in, saying my face looked so innocent

without them. It was all mischief, for I intended to do my best.

Mrs. Knight threw open her nice rooms, and in the hall room off the back

parlor the tree was placed.

They were obliged in the afternoon to keep me prisoner upstairs. I was

disgusted, for I wanted to be in the thick of it all. I could not sleep,

and I kept pretty near the door, ready to run out if I could get a

chance.

At seven o'clock they dressed me in all my finery, and before eight all

our guests had arrived: Madam A., a lovely woman, and one of our best

friends, with her three noble boys, and a sweet-faced little bit of a

woman whom every one who knew her called cousin; then Madam M., with her

daughter and granddaughter,--charming people, and all my dear friends.

These, with Mr. and Mrs. Knight and their son Stacy, with ourselves,

made a party of (reckoning myself) seventeen,--quite a roomful.

I thought (and I can assure you a cat's opinion is of some value) that

the Queen might be proud to see such beautiful, refined, and highly

educated people at her drawing-room. To be sure, there were no decollete

toilets, but then it was a proof of the good sense of the people. Of

course the Queen would not admit cats to her receptions; it would not be

safe. The bones would be a temptation, and I fear cats would not respect

even elderly bones, or spare them though decked with diamonds. I am

happy to say that my party was purely democratic; they were really all

my equals.

The back parlor door was thrown open, and we were in full view of them

all. The three boys in ragged clothes, bare legs, old shoes, were as

hard a looking crew as ever accompanied a hand-organ. Will had the organ

strapped to his back, and I sat upright on it. I was tied to Will's arm,

and Josie held another string, for they could not trust me, fearing I

would run under the sofa, at the expense of my tall hat and my dignity.

We were greeted with a burst of applause. The boys so successfully

assumed the street gamin air, and looked so thoroughly demoralized, as

they pulled their forelocks in recognition of the greeting, that no

wonder they brought down the house, and for a short time obscured my

august self. Stacy and Will gave a song in nasal style, pretending all

the while to grind the organ, while I was mounted on Will's shoulder,

swelling with importance.

Then they began "Yankee Doodle." Josie shook the castanets, Stacy beat

the drum, Will ground the organ and sang, while they all danced like

street Arabs.

I was perfectly beside myself. Oh, if I had only been Balaam's ass,

wouldn't I have made a speech! I ran to and fro on the organ, then

rolled over and over, my hat on one ear, my coat up my back, around my

neck, and my tail wagging from the red pants, in fine style.

The boys looked on in wonder, for it is needless to say that this act

was not on the programme, but an impromptu act of my own--and it was the

crown of the performance.

There were a few songs after this, but nothing like our "national air."

We could rest our laurels on that. I was handed around, kissed, and

admired to my heart's content. My clothes were pronounced perfect; and

then, when the boys went upstairs to change their clothes, my mistress

removed my finery, much against my will, and I made it very hard for her

by sticking my claws into the clothes as she tried to take them off.

Chester and Henry A., with Karl, were the ushers, and they opened the

door of the hall room, where the tree was displayed in all its beauties.

Mrs. Rice made a little speech, while Miss Milly held me tight, for,

regardless of etiquette, I was eager to rush for the tree.

As soon as she released me I made one jump on the table, and discovered

what my sense of smell had led me to expect,--three little fishes tied

with a red ribbon. I soon had them off the tree and on the floor, and

made inroads into them before I could be prevented.

Karl read the labels on the articles, while Chester and Henry

distributed them, for I was pleased to see that my dear friends had been

remembered as well as myself.

Miss Milly had a book of "Familiar Quotations." On the fly-leaf was

written in Madam A.'s lovely handwriting:--

"To my dear mistress, whose motto has always been, 'Love me, love my

cat.' Mew translated, 'God bless her.'--DAISY.

"Hang sorrow! Care will kill a cat; therefore, let's be merry."

I was very much pleased that the gift, purporting to be given by me, had

just the nice selections I should have made.

The tree did look lovely. Karl had lighted all the tapers, and it was

one blaze of light. There were very pretty paper decorations of bright

paper. Mrs. Rice said, sometimes taste was better than money. We had

little of that, but we had such warm friends we were very happy.

I had a pack of cards a little over an inch in length. They were a great

pleasure to us. Will would spread them on the floor, and I would roll

over, scattering them about. Sometimes he called me a knave, sometimes a

king or queen, but I did not care, only for a good frolic. I had a box

of pennies for my meat, a paper of catmint that I enjoyed, and a nice

kidney done up in pink paper, some white, soft candy I loved, and last

of all Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly gave me a lovely collar and padlock.

I was proud as a prince with it on my neck.

There were nice little gifts for all my dear friends; but the best of

all was, that on them were written nice little texts and--"From Daisy,"

just as if I had given them myself. It proved that they understood how

well I loved my dear ones, and how gladly I would have given if I could.

It was better than all my own gifts, though I enjoyed them very much;

but this understanding of me, making me one with them, made me feel like

a cat-angel--and then and there I became a Christian cat.

Then we had ice-cream and cake handed around by the boys. I had some in

my own little pewter plate. Miss Milly melted it a little, but I had

very small appetite for it. I was so excited that I could not keep still

enough to lap ice-cream. I had licked the kidney, tasted the fish,

chewed a little catmint and was quite hilarious over it, as it always

went to my head. My tail had more to do with it than was agreeable to

the company; for I whisked it about, greatly to their disgust: they did

not like being dusted with catmint. Miss Milly said, "I shall be obliged

to give you a dose of nux vomica, for I fear you have eaten too much of

a mixture for even a cat's stomach to digest." I just winked at her,

finished licking my ice-cream, then I kicked over the plate, making it

roll under the piano. This provoked a shout of approval from the boys.

Then we had a little music. Chester and Henry A---- played nicely, and

my one dear girl friend also played, but she preferred playing with me.

I was very fond of her and always responded to her affection.

Then my nice party broke up. No one of those who were there will ever

forget it, I know.

Ah me, how long ago it seems! The boys and my one girl friend are twelve

years older, while I am an old cat. Mamie, my friend, is a graduate of

the Boston University. She will make her mark some day. The boys are

Harvard graduates, while our own boys are Brimmer and High School boys.

They can all talk in many languages which I, of course, can understand.

Some of them will be smart business men. Chester, I think, will fill a

professor's chair, while the others will represent the law. They will

all achieve greatness if the love of one cherished cat can make them.

I know there is a warm corner in their hearts for Daisy. And however

hard the world has used them, they will read my little book and keep

green in their hearts the memory of one who loved them dearly, when she

is sleeping peacefully under her namesakes, the daisies.

Perhaps they will tell their children about their cat friend, and read

to them this little story of one happy cat, who was made a member of the

family and a friend of all the nice people who visited them. It will

teach them kindness to their little four-footed playmates, and they will

realize that warm hearts beat under their little fur coats.

V

REVERSES

I pass over several years--very sad ones to us all. The breaking up of

our home, the death of dear Mrs. Rice, I cannot write of, though Time,

the true friend of the sorrowful, has laid a healing balm on our hearts.

Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly were both prostrated by their sorrows, and

we were obliged to go into the country for a change of air.

How carelessly I looked upon the preparation for our flitting! When I

mounted the piano, my favorite seat for many years, I little thought it

was for the last time--that I should never hear my kind friends play on

that dear old piano again, that I should never again arouse them in the

morning by walking over the keys when they had left it open at night.

I could not understand their tears, when the furniture and piano were

carried away, that they were parting forever with things associated with

their old home and those who had made their happiness, now gone forever.

Yet when I saw only our trunks, and looked at their sad faces, I did

wish I could be something better than a cat and be able to help them.

I tried to amuse them, acting over all the little tricks they had taught

me, and was a very happy creature when Miss Milly smoothed my fur,

saying, "Oh, Daisy, what should we do without you!" Then I realized I

was a comfort to them.

They had bought me a large brown straw basket with a cover, and very

strong handles, and when I walked into it, taking possession, I felt

like a prince of the blood. I little thought how many miles I should

travel in that basket! It was open in places to give me air, and I could

lie down and turn around comfortably in it. When travelling, my mistress

would keep her finger between the cover and the basket, and with my eyes

fixed on her face I felt safe. She said she felt under a spell, to watch

me, and my stony stare reminded her of the Stranger Guest, in the

"Ancient Mariner."

We remained only one month in our first boarding-place, for it was not

satisfactory. The cats I could not associate with, for they were rough

tramps, no one owning them, and they had no care. I was very sorry for

them, knowing how care and kindness could transform them.

They really hated me, and it made me very unhappy, my chief offence

being my collar and padlock. They might have overlooked my collar, but

the padlock was adding insult to injury. Their eyes would grow green

with envy that one of their race should be above them. They looked upon

my collar and padlock just as women look at each other's diamonds.

Animals feel envy the same as human beings; only they can tear and rend

each other, while their so-called superiors would like to do the same

were it not for the power of the law.

Cats and dogs fight, and that is the end of it; but with human beings it

is never forgotten, and makes them bad-tempered and tyrannical.

I was very sorry for these poor cats, though I could not understand such

mean feelings. I was always pleased when I saw cats or dogs with pretty

collars on and bows of ribbon. One lovely white cat I knew used to wear

blue ribbons, and I always told her how nice she looked, till I found

how vain she was; then I said no more about her good looks, for I do

hate vain people. I would gladly have given my collar and padlock,

though I loved it dearly, if it would have helped them.

It is a problem beyond one poor cat's solution to know just how to help

people to understand our race; but I do hope this little story will help

a little. The life of one petted cat perhaps may make others as happy as

I have been.

We changed our rooms quite often on our return to Boston; many of them

were so cheerless I will not speak of them. Whatever our discomforts

were, I was always cared for; but I did wish I could provide a palace

and servants for my dear friends. I remember the stories Miss Eleanor

used to tell the boys, and I wished I could be Cinderella, with a fairy

godmother to give me means to help others. I fear I should have killed

the mice before they were changed into horses. And when the boys would

say to their aunties, "Why don't you have horses and carriages?" I also

asked the same question.

I am an old cat now, and I know, and do not ask such questions, for I

understand the world better, that it is not to those who deserve the

most that luxuries are given. Why, we will never know.

We lived in one house where we were very uncomfortable. Our room, to be

sure, always looked bright and nice, but it was because we had such good

taste in covering up our defects and making poor things look nice.

The lady who owned the house was a philanthropist. It is a long name for

me to master, but I thought it over in my waking hours, just as my

mistress pronounced it, and I can think it quite correctly, better than

I can understand why she was so called. She was utterly neglectful of

the two gentlewomen in her house, who were far ahead of her in education

and culture, if not her equals in money.

I pondered the name, and its meaning, more and more. I will not say it

made me tired, for that is slang; but it did make me sleepy, and I would

drop into a good cat-nap right in the midst of defining

"philanthropist."

She had a cat named "Oliver Twist." One must have some companionship of

his own kind. So Miss Milly said, "Perhaps he will be a playmate for

Daisy."

"Perhaps," Miss Eleanor said, "he also may be a philanthropist."

We soon found, however, he was nothing of the kind. He proved himself a

most depraved cat. Under the cloak of virtue he concealed a very coarse

nature. He never came up to our room without trying to provoke a fight.

His black, beady eyes and sleek Maltese coat always irritated me. I had

a cattish desire to fight him and let him know his place. For my

mistress's sake I tried to subdue this feeling, remembering he was my

guest, and I must be polite even at the expense of comfort.

It was all thrown away on him; it was "casting pearls before swine."

When I went out into the yard, as I did every day for an outing, he

would hunt me about, as if I had no right to be there. Not one scrap of

food did I ever get down there, though he was always ready to have a

feast when he came to us.

One day things reached a climax. I had tried to amuse him; he had taken

my favorite chair, and washed himself all over in it, leaving so many

hairs on it I thought I should go wild, knowing how Miss Milly would

have to clean it. I gave him half my milk, and though he stood with one

leg in the saucer to keep me from eating any, I still kept my temper. I

would not make a fuss. But when, after finishing my milk and licking his

chops right in my face, he flew at me and knocked me down, then I threw

all politeness to the dogs, and unsheathing my claws, I closed with him,

rolling over and over till he yelled well. Like all bullies, he was a

coward.

My mistress said, "Daisy, I am ashamed of you." Miss Eleanor took

"Oliver Twist," and put him out, with scant ceremony, saying, "I wonder

what Charles Dickens would say to hear a cat like that called 'Oliver

Twist.'"

"Poor cat! You know he is disciplined by a philanthropist." And Miss

Milly laughed at the absurd thought.

I laughed also, as I crept into a corner, when I thought how nicely I

had "Oliver Twisted" him. I slept the sleep of the victorious. I did not

see very much of him after this, for we went early into the country for

the summer.

There were very nice people where we boarded. One dear little boy was

very fond of me. He hugged me so hard I avoided him. My mistress told

his mother that she did not think children should be allowed cats and

dogs for playthings. Miss Eleanor talked quite nicely to little Alec,

and I think when he remembers her stories of children who were good to

animals, that it will make him careful, for he was a nice little fellow,

and he may be a good friend to poor ill-treated dogs and cats.

I enjoyed that summer very much. The cats were kind and friendly, and

the beautiful trees on the grounds gave me a nice chance to run up and

hide from my mistress. She was anxious about me all the time, fearing to

lose sight of me. She used to pet all the cats that were good to me, and

they all said, if they had a friend like her, how good and happy they

would be. Some of them were very wild and rude, hunted as they had been

by bad children, and scat from the door when, half starved and cold,

they had sought shelter and friends. No wonder they were not nice

company for well-bred cats. I did pity them and never turned away when

they came near me.

At the end of the grounds was a big bed of catmint. It was like the

"corner grocery store" for the cats. Crowds of them would assemble there

to talk over their affairs. And when, excited by the power of the

catmint, they would get into a row, though there were no pistols or

murders, such as characterize human fights, there were black eyes,

scratched faces, and hate and rage in plenty.

I kept out of it all, though I cannot deny that my heart beat faster. I

had to sheathe my claws till they hurt me; but I thought of my position,

for a well-brought-up cat can understand the meaning of "noblesse

oblige." I suppose I felt just as men do (and women too, as to that)

when they bet on the fighting parties. And I had my favorites as well as

they, and knew who I hoped would win.

I did love that catmint bed, and never for one moment doubt that in the

boundless green fields of Paradise we shall have acres of catmint where

we can roll to our hearts' content. I did try to encourage the poor

neglected ones with this prospect, but they did not believe me. They

said I was a "cat fanatic," "a fool," "a revivalist." They said, "If we

are to be so cared for, then why don't your 'heavenly father' that you

think so much of do something for us now?" And they all talked at once

and were so excited, they hissed and yelled so loud, that my nerves were

all of a quiver; but I stood my ground, though they pressed on me very

hard, and breathed so much catmint over me I was glad when my mistress,

hearing the row, came and took me away.

It was many days before I visited that catmint bed again, for it rained

very hard. Miss Eleanor remarked that Daisy was rather quiet; she feared

he was sick. I could have told her my heart was sick, trying to solve

the problem, how I could reform my race, how make people believe them

the intelligent beings they are.

After this I had to bear jeers and scoffs; but I would not give up my

principles nor yet my catmint bed. Many were the scratches Miss Eleanor

got, pulling me out from under the bushes, for the smell magnetized me.

She always got me by the tail or leg, she cared not which, so that she

carried me home and saved Miss Milly anxiety.

The people were very nice to me. One quiet young man, an artist, was

very fond of me, and said I would make a fine subject for a picture. I

used to flourish my tail and hold my head on one side just like a fool,

I suppose; but then I know I am a beauty. I hear it every day, and how

can I help being vain?

Before returning to Boston we paid a short visit to one of our friends.

She had a delightful home, and the children were very much pleased to

have me visit them.

As I have quite an adventure to relate, where I did not distinguish

myself, I will take another chapter, and give it in full, without

extenuating my faults, leaving them to be judged by my readers.

VI

DAISY'S ADVENTURE

The eldest son and daughter were very kind to me, and I thought them

just lovely. Their mother was an old friend of mine, and always when she

came to Boston I was delighted to see her. I would jump up in her lap--a

favor that I did not often grant to any one. Cats can tell who are true

and who are false. I could have given my mistress points on this

subject, for she believed in those she loved, and was often deceived.

There was a dog and cat that were great favorites with all the family.

Spot, the dog, was very plain,--a great lanky creature,--but he had one

virtue; that was obedience. Tom, the cat, was a hard-looking creature,

but they all loved him dearly.

Of course both dog and cat hated me. They thought I put on airs, and

they resented the affection their mistress gave to me. I walked about

the garden, regardless of their hisses and growls; and they very soon

got tired of it, when they saw I did not notice them. Mr. George, the

eldest son, had Spot in complete subjection, and Tom dared not approach

me when the family were near.

Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly were invited to the seashore. They had

decided not to accept the invitation, as they could not take me with

them. Mrs. H. urged their going, saying: "It is just what you both

need,--change of air. I can take care of Daisy; it will be a pleasure."

So it was decided.

When they kissed me at parting, and said, "How can we leave you, Daisy?"

my heart ached so that I was too wretched to live. Had not Mrs. H. held

me tight, I would have followed the carriage that took them away from

me. Spot and Tom looked anxiously on. They thought, "Is this upstart to

be left here to rule over us?"

Mrs. H. said that Spot must be kept at the store, only coming home at

night. She tried her best to have Tom friendly with me, but a more

obstinate cat I never met. He would stay in the room with me, and once

took his dinner out of the same plate after they had kept him hungry a

long time; but never could they make him friendly with me. I tried to be

just to him, knowing how hard it was to have a "handsome, fashionable"

cat, as they called me, come into their home and share their friends.

And then there was that collar and padlock. How much I suffered for that

little bit of finery! And yet I loved it dearly. I never struck an

attitude (as my mistress called it) without my padlock was in full

sight, just under my chin, where I had placed it.

How long that one week was to me, and I am ashamed to say how many

disgraceful acts I was guilty of. One night the climax was reached, and

then my character was ruined for that family. I slept in the room with

Mrs. H.--much to her husband's disgust.

It was a nice lounge I had, with a blanket on it, and any cat might have

been happy there. Tom was envious of it, for one day he walked in and

was just about to jump up there for a nap, when I jumped up before him,

and gave a powerful hiss right in his face. He was all ready to fight

when his mistress came in and giving him a shake, said, "If I ever hear

you hiss at Daisy again, I will punish you."

Poor Tom! He knew he was unjustly accused, but what could he do, and I

did feel mean, but what could I do either? I could not speak. I might

have hissed; then, she would have known who was the offender. I did not,

however, but just glared at Tom when she carried him off.

One night I could not sleep. I was homesick. So I just walked over the

bureau, clinking the glasses and toilet bottles, and then mounted the

mantle, meandering about sure-footed, though I did kick over a wooden

ball, for pure mischief. I threw it on the floor, where it crashed down

loud.

Mrs. H. started up, saying, "That cat is on the mantle; she will break

the vases and clock."

"Let her break them," Mr. H. replied; "we shall get off cheap if that is

all the mischief she does." And he went off to sleep again.

When Mrs. H. reached the mantle, no cat was to be found.

"Oh, Daisy," she said, "there you are, so demure, sitting on that chair!

You are just like your mistress, so cute, no wonder she loves you

dearly."

After coaxing me to lie down on the lounge, she went to bed, and soon

fell asleep. I could not sleep, however. I had a restless desire to go

and find my friends.

The end window was open at the top; it faced on a narrow piazza that

extended the length of the house. It was gravelled on the top. I was

very agile, and giving one spring from the top of a chair, I soon

reached the window, and overlooked the situation. A good jump, and I

landed on my feet, and walked along, crunching the gravel as I went.

I passed the bath-room window and then approached the window of Mr.

George's room, which was open wide, but protected by a heavy screen.

Here I planted my paws and looked in. One wild yell and a succession of

barks rent the air, and Spot, who had been sleeping at the foot of his

master's bed, rushed for the window and would soon have dashed through

the screen and finished me,--for he was a powerful dog,--but his

master's hand on his collar restrained him, with the other hand he

reached for his pistol, thinking there were burglars about. His mother's

voice at the door arrested him, and he opened the door, to meet her

anxious question, "Is Daisy safe?"

"She is safe enough," he said; "but are we safe with a cat like this one

in the house?"

"Take Spot into my room," said his mother, "while I get Daisy." In spite

of her alarm, as she approached the window, she could not help laughing.

"Oh, you cunning creature!" she said; "just as composed as possible,

looking from one to the other, as if to say,--'Why, what is all this

fuss about?'"

Sure enough, I stood with my paws on the window-sill, and did not move

till she came, and removing the screen took me into the room where all

the family were assembled, in undress, while Spot's loud barking could

be heard from the next room. I was taken into the guest chamber, where

Mrs. H. remained with me; for she said she was convinced no one could

govern me but my mistress.

Two days more, and I was made happy by the sight of my loved ones. Mrs.

H. did not tell them for a long time of my naughtiness. They said their

visit was pleasant, but without me they had decided never to go away

again. They said their friend had given them an invitation for me when

they visited her another year. And it was really true. The next year

they did take me; and as it is all fresh in my memory now, I will jump

one year and tell you all about it.

I saw the cats they had told me about. One was called "Forepaugh," and

she did look just like a real circus cat. She had one brown and one blue

eye. The other cat was called "Spring." I liked them both very much.

They were not educated cats, but they had good manners, and were very

kind hearted.

Forepaugh told me sad stories of the cats around. She said very few

people made them members of the family, as we were. Most of the cats

were tramps, living in the fields and woods, afraid of every human

being, having to steal or starve. They were naturally antagonistic to

cats that had homes. They never had known kindness and could not believe

in it. She said if ever a missionary was needed, she thought it was

right here.

She said that just below, near the poorhouse, was a large field called

"Cat Swamp," because all the cats for miles around congregated here.

Some "dudes" had altered the name to "Feline Meadow." "Cat Swamp" held

the fort, however, as the most appropriate name. Here the cats yelled

and caterwauled and told all their trials and sorrows caused by mankind.

The fights were fearful, and the heaps of fur to be seen around after

one of these encounters proved in reality that there was nothing ideal

in the tongues and sounds heard in this region. They said there was no

help for it; people could not be made to realize that cats had a claim

on them.

For several nights I had noticed one of the neighbors' cats sitting on

the fence and listening intently to our conversation. This evening she

came nearer, and gave a groan, while Forepaugh was speaking to me of the

neglected cats. At last she said if she might be allowed to express an

opinion, she had one all ready. We said at once how glad we would be to

hear her.

"Suppose," she said, "some of your good Boston people, with their little

tracts on the treatment of dumb animals, come along! What then! We can't

eat their tracts, or live on them, can we?"

I didn't like to answer this cat, she was so big and aggressive, and

looked at me with such spite, as if she thought I liked tracts, and the

people who carry them about, when I do despise them. Finding I did not

answer, she continued:--

"There it all ends. A lot of women will get together, with a few men

thrown in, and they will talk and talk, going all around Robin Hood's

barn, till they lose the thread of their discourse, and we wish some big

bat would rush out and catch the thread and bring them to the point.

Then they argue and draw up resolutions, and call upon the brethren to

agree to them, which the poor men do, because they are afraid of the

sisters' tongues. Then they are exhausted, and are obliged, 'as weaker

vessels,' to drink gallons of tea, and the men smoke acres of cigars,

and it all ends in smoke and tea grounds for us poor cats. The women

think about each other's clothes, while the men are wondering if the

women are rich enough to support them, should they propose marriage.

Naturally cats are forgotten.

"Sometimes they find a home for a good-looking cat, but it is not a

satisfactory one. Such people are not supposed to know much about people

with hearts large enough to take interest in cats. They are handed over

to high-toned servants, to pet and snub in alternation. The poor

no-tailed horses, made wretched by the abominable check-rein and the

flies, hate everything that moves, and kick at us. The liveried servants

smoke in our faces, swear, and spit on us, till we hide ourselves in

disgust and wonder if animals have dirtier habits than human beings.

"When the family returns to the city the house is closed, and these

Christian people leave poor Pussy behind to look out for herself. Is it

any wonder that cats have no faith in any one? That they join the

midnight revels, and fight, and steal, to keep them alive?"

She was very sarcastic, but Forepaugh said it was all true; that cats

were cast off just as if they had no right to live; then when they steal

some bit of food, they are given a bad character and hunted about. They

are expected to have better morals than human beings.

Forepaugh said that she had a real respect for this cat, that she knew

all the cats for miles around, and helped them all she could; she said

that hearing their tales of sorrow had made her cynical.

"I had thought her disagreeable," Forepaugh said, "till one night I saw

her tugging along the remains of a big fish which a neighbor who had

been out fishing had given her. I had the curiosity to follow her. She

had to take a rest frequently, for the fish was heavy. At last, after

walking a long distance, she dragged it over a stone wall. Soon feeble

voices greeted her, and two half-starved cats that had been abused by

bad boys raised themselves up, while their friend tore the fish to

pieces with her sharp teeth. I got over the wall and helped her. They

all were shy of me and inclined to sneer because I had a home, but I

said I did not care; it made me mad, but I put all my madness into

tearing up the fish, and they satisfied their hunger."

Forepaugh also said that their friend, not satisfied with feeding them,

began to lick one of the great wounds made by a sharp stone thrown by a

boy just for fun. Then, as they were thirsty, they dragged themselves

down to a brook at the end of the field, and after drinking they were

very comfortable. Then they told their trials, and said, "What can we do

to make people kind to us?"

Forepaugh said she had heard of a Dr. Angell, who was devoting his life

to helping dumb animals. They all yelled and scoffed when she said

"Angell," saying, "Do you believe there is an angel in heaven that would

look at a cat?"

Forepaugh said (being a Christian cat) she was shocked. She explained to

them that it was the name, though she said, "I am sure it is

appropriate, for he has proved himself one by his help to all helpless

creatures."

"Well," they said, "we wish he could see us and help us. Why can't some

one speak to him? Perhaps, though, he will think cats beneath his

notice."

Forepaugh said she had often thought she wished she could see him and

tell him about their sufferings. She said, "I always respected that cat

after that night when we walked home by moonlight, after taking care of

those cats; and when she sat down on a stone, saying, 'I must rest, for

I feel faint; I have had no food for some hours, for I knew that fish

would be only enough for them,' I said, 'You shall have some of my

supper,' and I got her some pieces of meat and gave her all my milk, and

went to bed happy, though I was rather empty."

After this I did have a real friendship for Forepaugh, and I told her if

ever I could, I would try to interest this good man in our race. I had

not then thought I should ever write a book, but now is my chance, and

somehow I do feel he will help us.

The cynical cat never would make friends with me, but I did admire her,

and I feel how small my life is compared with hers. Here am I, petted

and living in plenty, and I can only be grateful and try to be a comfort

to my dear friend.

Forepaugh told us that at one of the great shore houses they had a cat

called Prometheus.

"Oh," said our cynic, "how I wish we could get at his liver; we should

never want for food."

I pondered over that speech, and one day I heard my mistress telling her

little niece, who was reading mythology, the story of Prometheus, "who

was bound to a rock, vultures feeding upon his ever growing liver." It

was very funny for a country bred cat to be versed in mythology. I

suppose, however, she heard it, as I often do things my mistress and her

friend talk about, and the liver made her remember it.

I was heartily glad to return to Boston, and I made up my mind I would

let cats and all the animals I could reach know that they had not met

the true philanthropists, but the shams that take up every new cause and

dishonor it. For there are many earnest, true philanthropists who spend

money and publish nice tracts in behalf of animals, and thus, in a

measure, the tracts "do feed" animals; for they open the eyes of those

who perhaps have never thought of the matter earnestly.

I determined, after my visit to Beverly, to write this book to help my

unfortunate race.

VII

CAT MEMORIES

Our new room, a very large alcove, was pleasant and comfortable. The

people who owned the house were school-teachers, refined, and the

atmosphere was congenial to us all. I loved to watch my friend's busy

fingers and follow Miss Milly's pen, as she wrote for hours at her desk.

I loved to walk over the fresh writing and flirt my tail over the

ink-bottle. That would make her stop and scold me, then pet me till I

was willing she should return to her work. The eyes of affection are

sharp. I saw with pain that they were obliged often to lie down, after a

long spell of work, but they never complained.

Mrs. Knight came often to see us, but I did not see Stacy for a long

time. He was busy with his studies at Harvard, but he sent me kind

messages, and I knew he loved me. Our boys were not with us, and I had

no young company; but then, I was happy for I could see and hear from

our young friends frequently.

I always greeted dear Mrs. Knight with delight. She had a camel's hair

shawl she used to roll me in, when we lived in her house, and I loved to

claw it and pull the wool out of it. I wondered she did not wear it, but

then, I suppose, it was old fashioned. She told me that her cat Solomon

was very fond of it, and she allowed him to sleep on the lounge with

that shawl under him.

I felt a little jealous of Solomon, but I doubt if they ever love

another cat as well as they love me. They said Solomon had no

associates, though they lived on the swell avenue.

The cats belonging there were only tolerated one-half the year. The cats

that were not boarded out were left to become tramps. Of course these

cats were very immoral, and they did not think it would improve Solomon

to be friendly with them. I did smile when Mrs. Knight said, "Daisy is

such a perfect cat, we hold him up as a model for Solomon."

I wondered how Sol would like that, for he told me he did not like being

kept in. He guessed he could take care of his morals; the society cats

could not hurt him.

One day he proved himself not so wise as his name would indicate. He

fell out of the third story window. When they gathered around him,

thinking he would have to be chloroformed, he got up, shook himself, and

lived.

He told me very sad tales of the cats living in that vicinity. "Would

you not think," he said, "that in these palatial houses there would be

room for one cat?"

I said I should think they would want two or three. He shook his wise

head, saying, "Oh, no. If they see a cat that pleases them, some

superannuated spinster will gush over her, making her a pet for a little

while. But let poor Pussy fall ill, or get one flea on her, and out she

goes into outer darkness."

"Oh," I said, "don't speak like that! my two dear friends are 'maiden

ladies,' and no one can be kinder to animals than they are. The sick and

unfortunate always appeal to their sympathy, and not in vain. I remember

Miss Eleanor washing every day a poor neglected black cat whose eye a

rat had bitten. It was not a pleasant piece of work, I can tell you, and

she tended that eye so faithfully that it got well. They would go hungry

to give food to a poor animal that needed it."

"Well, well, it may be so," said Sol, impressed by my indignant protest;

"but I have heard that old bachelors and old maids are always the

hardest on animals."

I indignantly denied this. "It is married people who dislike each other

and cannot get free, who have horrid children--they are the hard ones.

They do not want the care of their children themselves, and expect

animals to offer themselves to be tortured by these wretched children.

And if they defend themselves, refusing to have their eyes poked out

with sticks, tin pails tied to their tails, and lighted matches held to

their noses, and bite or scratch, then they are denounced as vile, and

are given bad characters that will follow them through life."

I had spoken with real feeling, and I could see that Sol believed me.

"You are right, I suppose," he said. "We are both of us fortunate cats;

'our lives have fallen in pleasant places.'"

Poor Sol! He was so wise he had to quote Scripture, even if he did not

understand it; and in this he was no worse than human beings. Do half of

them know the meaning of the passages of Scripture they quote so

confidently?

"We," he continued in a sentimental tone, "cannot realize how hard it is

to be outcasts. These closed-up houses and boarded-up doors are gloomy

enough during the summer months. At dusk the skeleton forms that steal

out, too feeble to mew, start at every sound, fearing the stones and

jeers they are sure to meet from the stray ragamuffin children who roam

about this deserted region. Their hearts are broken,--for cats have

hearts, and loving ones too,--and it is hard for them to believe that

those who have sometimes noticed them have left them alone. I do not

know," he continued, "where we are going, but I do not believe we were

made in vain, and I think these heartless people will find in the

hereafter that the animals they have abused will be avenged."

"All I desire," said I, "is to be with my two dear friends." And to this

Solomon said, "Amen."

I like Sol very much. He is a very well educated cat and looks upon life

in a serious manner. He has grown quite large and appreciates his good

home. I think he is a Christian Endeavorer, and will do all he can for

homeless cats. I remember his wise words; and when dear Mrs. Knight

brings me some of his catmint, I enjoy it for itself, because I love it,

and in memory of his friendship. One can remember his friends even if he

does not meet them often. Perhaps if we were to see each other every

day, we should disagree.

VIII

AN ACCIDENT

We had a very nice home in the country offered us, which we were very

glad to take advantage of. The people who owned the place, going to the

seashore, preferred to have their house occupied rather than shut up,

doing no one any good.

It was very pleasant there, and we had a very delightful time, though

the accident which nearly cost me my life, and from which I shall never

recover, happened there.

It was the day before the Fourth of July. Miss Milly had been to Boston

to the funeral of our beloved Doctor. Miss Eleanor being too unwell to

go, we kept each other company, and sad enough we were.

When Miss Milly returned, she was thoroughly worn out with grief at the

loss of her dear friend and Doctor. It was a great loss to me, for I had

been his special pet. During our dear Mrs. Rice's sickness I watched for

his daily visit and knew his ring always. He would say: "Well, Daisy,

how is your health to-day? Put out your tongue." Which, with Miss

Milly's help, I would do. Then he would take my paw and feel my pulse in

the most sober manner.

How nice it was! I would not give up this memory for a great deal of

money. I could tell by his face just how our dear invalid was, and when

he told them his skill was in vain, and that he could not save her, I

saw the tears in his eyes as he took me in his arms. He was a perfect

gentleman, and we all loved him and respected his great knowledge and

skill.

We were sitting on the piazza talking about him, when I saw something

move over under the trees. Supposing it might be a squirrel, I went to

interview him, thinking that if I could kill something I should feel

better. My mistresses were so preoccupied that when they went in to tea

they never noticed that I had not followed them.

Finding no squirrel, I sat down under a pine tree, thinking about the

beautiful flowers and the music Miss Milly had told us about, at the

church funeral of our friend, and mourning that I should never see our

dear Doctor again, and wondering what Miss Milly would do without him,

when a rush, and a bark, and before I could face around a fierce bulldog

buried his teeth in my shoulder. I fought for my life, though I felt the

odds were against me. But let him kill me; I would die game. I did claw

his eyes, blinding him and giving me chance to escape.

I crawled over the grass, then through the fence, into the neighboring

estate, and hid myself in the bushes and deep grass. Then I lost

consciousness. At times I realized my pain, and my brain was clear, for

all my past life passed before me.

How beautiful seemed my dear home and friends, that I should never see

again! Then the old childish days, when I had frolicked with my poor

mother, came to me so vividly I could smell the sweet clover where we

played; and then the dreadful pain and faintness made me realize the end

was near.

I said, "I shall see our dear Doctor, and he will say, 'Why, Daisy! Have

you followed me so soon?'" It was all dreamy; another fainting spell had

come on, and it was nearly morning before I was again conscious. Then I

thought, "I must try to see my dear mistresses once more, even if to die

in sight of their windows." I was half crazed when I thought of their

sorrow.

With the greatest effort I raised myself up, and it was nearly an hour

before I reached the tree, the scene of yesterday's disaster. Inch by

inch I crawled along, with all the courage I could command. If cats have

nine lives, I lost eight of mine on that journey. I could not see; my

eyes were closed up by cobwebs, from the bushes I had crawled under when

I hid myself. I felt my way along, and when the tree was reached fell

down exhausted.

Soon I heard a soft step, and Miss Eleanor gathered me up in her arms,

trembling with fear that she should hurt me. She cried out with pain

when she saw my bloody side, with the skin and fur hanging down nearly a

quarter of a yard. She folded her apron, and held me in that, as I could

be moved easily in that way; and I never winced, though the least jar

hurt me, closing my eyes, and feeling I could die in peace. She carried

me upstairs to Miss Milly's bedside.

Poor Miss Milly! She had not closed her eyes till toward morning, when

she fell into a doze. She opened her eyes when Miss Eleanor spoke, and

screamed with pleasure when she caught sight of me. She held out her

arms; but Miss Eleanor said, "Do not move him." Then, when she opened

her apron, and Miss Milly saw my torn and bloody side, she cried as if

her heart would break, saying, "He will die! What shall we do?"

"Dress yourself quickly, and we will see what can be done. One comfort:

he will be with us, and will have our care, even if we must lose him."

They folded a blanket, laid it on a wide lounge, then covered it with a

clean sheet folded thick, and laid me on it. Then Miss Milly soaked off

the cobwebs from my eyes with warm water and a soft cloth, and I could

just see a little; but it was like a view of heaven to see their dear

faces once more.

I tried to lap some warm milk, for the fever had made me thirsty. The

effort was too much, and I fell back, faint and dizzy. When this attack

passed off, I took a few drops of water from a spoon, and Miss Milly sat

for an hour patiently, giving me drop by drop, till my parched tongue

and throat were relieved.

She sponged around the wound, soaking the clotted blood from my fur so

tenderly that I suffered very little.

My heart was so full of thankfulness that I would not murmur at my

pains. And I do not think it was such a great virtue, though the

suffering was fearful, for I think animals bear pain always with more

fortitude than human beings.

Miss Eleanor went into Boston as soon as possible. Mrs. Knight was very

much distressed, and at once went with her to see the great doctor for

animals, Dr. Watts. He said he could not leave his office the Fourth of

July. He said he thought my shoulder bone was bent, and as I was so old,

he should advise bathing, without trying to have it operated upon. He

gave them a liniment, saying he did not think I would ever get over it.

Miss Milly said he evidently thought me an old cat, and that I had

better die than live and suffer. "He shall not die," she added, "if we

can save him."

The liniment was just fearful, Miss Milly held my head in her arms,

covering my eyes and nose; for it was very strong, and drew tears from

their eyes. Miss Eleanor applied it slowly. I winced and moaned, but

tried hard to restrain myself, for I knew they were suffering with me.

And I was anxious to bear it; for somehow I had faith in Dr. Watts, and

I believed it would help me.

Never had a patient better care. They made me catmint tea, and rubbed it

on their hands so I could smell of it, and never left me alone. They

kept the sheet smooth under me, for I could not turn over. It was like

heaven to me, and after I had slept a little while, I opened my eyes,

and seeing Miss Milly bending over me, I purred and put out my tongue to

lick her hand. She kissed me with delight, and both of them caressed me,

saying, "He will live, and no matter how much trouble he is, we will be

only too glad to do for him."

It was very true. From that day I got better slowly. I could turn over,

and the hanging skin and fur fell off; and they kept soft greasy

handkerchiefs on the wound till it closed over and healed. In two weeks

the fur began to grow, and soon I had as lovely a coat as before my

accident.

Just one week did I keep good, because I could not help myself. Then,

one day, they went down to dinner, leaving me asleep on the lounge.

I said to myself when I awoke, "This has lasted long enough; I will not

be an invalid longer." I crawled down and surprised them. They gathered

me up, and carried me back, saying: "You will not get well so soon if

you behave like this. We will close the door when we leave the room

after this, for we see that you are not to be trusted."

It did put me back, but my one desire was to get about, and I was soon

able to. My shoulder was stiff, and it was a good six weeks before I

could walk about with comfort. I limped a little, but my mistress

laughed over it, saying it was an aristocratic limp--like some old

gentleman leaning on his gold-headed cane.

It was due to the love and care of these dear friends that my life was

saved--another debt added to the long list of favors I received from

them. I hope my little book will be successful and prove how much I

loved and appreciated them.

I have never been strong since my accident. There were internal

injuries, and I often have an inward fever and great pain. I keep it to

myself when I can, for if they find my breath feverish and my paws hot,

they are very anxious and dose me with aconite and sometimes oil.

Aconite I can take, but I do just hate oil. I act like a bad boy when it

is given to me.

My misfortune had one bright side; it gave us nice neighbors. Very

congenial ones they were.

When my mistress left me, to go in to tea that afternoon, they thought I

had followed them, and had not missed me. Two tramp children shouted at

the window, "Missus, your cat's killed! We seed a dog kill him."

They ran out to question the children, but could get no satisfaction.

Then they called, "Daisy, Daisy!" all around the house and grounds; for

they could not believe I was lost. The children must be mistaken.

There were some young people playing tennis on the Anchorage

grounds,--the Admiral's place opposite,--and they came over when they

saw Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly, and said they had seen the attack. They

said the loud barking of a dog and a scream from the girl who was

wheeling a baby carriage called their attention. They thought Daisy was

killed; they saw him move, but could not tell in what direction; they

said they did not believe it could be far off, as he must have received

his death wound. The dog was a fierce bulldog, and belonged to the girl

who had screamed. She had wheeled the carriage off quickly and called

the dog, who was howling and bleeding from the encounter. They said, had

they only been able to get a pistol, they would have shot the dog at

once; but no one dare interfere with an enraged bull dog. And they had

no time, for it all passed so quickly.

They came over and very kindly helped in the search, going down cellar,

looking in the cold air box, and over the grounds. Where I could have

taken myself so quickly, they could not understand. After their dinner

they searched again--without success, however.

The Admiral's charming daughter, with her friend from a neighboring

place, was very kind, calling the next day, trying to comfort my

distracted friends.

It was after twelve o'clock before they went into the house; then they

could not rest, walking out on the piazza, or sitting in the bay-window,

and starting at every sound or shadow. Miss Milly said if they could

only give me Christian burial, she could bear it better. It was a night

never to be forgotten by them, and they loved me more, if possible, for

what they had suffered when they thought they had lost me.

The young ladies I was soon quite intimate with. They brought ice-cream

and jelly to me, and beautiful flowers. Of course we understood it was a

delicate attention offered through me; in fact, it was using me as a

"cat's paw." We had nice times sitting in the porch or on the piazza.

They were so bright and chatty, talking about books they had read. I

could not read books, but I could sit on them and look wise, and I never

was known to scratch one.

In the next house were two pet cats. One was Maltese, the other black,

with white breast and paws. They were very large and dignified. There

was one singular feature about them: both had double thumbs. After I

became acquainted with them I asked them why they did not join a circus

or museum. Oh, my! how mad they were, for they were very proud and

exclusive; and at first were very shy of associating with me till they

saw what nice company we had. They said they thought we must be poor,

for we kept no servant.

I told them we were poor, but we did not judge people by their money;

that I guessed that so far as brains and culture and good breeding were

concerned, my mistresses could beat the neighborhood, if we did not keep

help. Then I pushed open the screen door and banged it in their faces. I

was so very mad I never looked at them for a long time, and kept on the

piazza at the other side of the house.

I did forgive them, however, but it was after their pride had a fall.

The family, went away for some weeks, and the house was closed. They

left the small door in the barn open, and a heap of straw, with a

blanket over it, for them to sleep on. They engaged the man who cared

for the places around to provide them with milk and food; and he was

very faithful to them.

How we did pity them! I held up my head and walked away when I saw them,

and Miss Eleanor said she did not think I could be so hard-hearted; but

I could not stand it when I heard a piteous mew and saw a sad face

looking at me, and I at once threw all resentment to the winds and went

out with them.

After this they were in our house all the time. As soon as it was light,

over they would come, and wait till we came down to breakfast. They went

home reluctantly at night, and Miss Eleanor was so good to them she went

with them and poked up the straw and shut them in for the night. Miss

Milly would say to her: "Did you tell them a bear story? And did they

say their prayers?" Miss Eleanor would laugh, and say: "I did pity the

poor lonely things; they looked like the babes in the wood when I

covered the old blanket over them. Only I thought they had a good, nice

auntie instead of a wicked uncle." For, as you will see, I had been told

all these stories, or the boys had, and I listened to them.

These cats were very nice to me. They would run up the trees and on top

of the bay-window to amuse me; for I could not run or climb very well,

though the next year, when we were out there, I could run with them very

easily. We had such nice dinners together; for I enjoyed sharing my good

things with them, and they were very nice about eating. They did not

snort and growl as some cats do, or pick for the best. My mistress used

to put down one large platter, and would give each of them the end,

while I had the middle. Each shared alike.

We had a great deal of company. I enjoyed them all, particularly the

artists. I had an eye for color, though I could not make a telescope of

my paw and put it over my eye, exclaiming: "What perspective! What

color! What technique!" But I could open both eyes and see if the

pictures were true to nature.

Many offers were made by the artists to paint my picture; but my

mistress refused them, saying: "Should I lose my Daisy, I could not bear

to see a picture of her. I should always carry one in my heart, and

would need no other."

Our pleasant home we left the last of September, just when the autumn

foliage was in a blaze of color, giving us a delightful picture to

remember through the winter. We carried home some pine-cones for our

grate, and bright leaves to put in our vases--a very pleasant reminder

of our summer home.

We made a pine pillow. I say _we_ because I pulled out the pine as fast

as they picked it. At last they were obliged to put me in the closet. I

climbed on the shelf and knocked down boxes till, in self-defence, they

released me.

But the pine pillow was finished, and I had many good naps on it,

remembering those with whom I had played under the pines.

IX

CAT TALES

I had always felt desirous of hearing the history of Topsy. My mother

lived one year in the house with her, on good, if not friendly, terms.

Her disappearance was a subject I pondered over quite often. Naturally,

having taken her place in Miss Milly's affections, I wondered about her.

One day my curiosity was gratified. A friend, very fond of cats, who had

known Topsy very well, called. Miss Milly told her this interesting

story.

Topsy was a Salem cat, and no one could doubt her being a real witch

cat. She was nervous, always on the jump, and "such a smart temper!"

Miss Milly said: "I had always been very fond of black cats, but it so

happened, though we had cats of all colors, we had never a black one,

till the arrival of Topsy. You know," she laughed, "I have always been

very proud of calling myself a Salem witch. I have a mole on my left

shoulder, and now that the black cat had arrived, I felt that I had all

the requirements needful to make a veritable 'Salem witch.' I believe

there is some superstition about a black cow, also; but one could not go

about leading a black cow quite as well as a cat, and I felt satisfied

that would entitle me to the name."

This is the way Topsy came to my mistress: One summer evening a friend

drove up to the door with a basket of flowers. Miss Milly was pleased

with them, but when under the flowers a little fluffy ball revealed

itself, and when the little ball had brilliant yellow eyes, she was

delighted. She smoothed its soft fur, saying: "What a lovely kitten! Is

it for me?"

As she asked the question, the kitten gave one spring and landed on her

shoulder, where she secured her position by sticking her sharp claws

into Miss Milly's shoulder. At every attempt to dislodge her, she

asserted herself with tooth and nail; having undoubtedly a claw hold,

she would never resign.

This was Topsy's first claim on my mistress, and she made a slave of her

ever after. All the family were pleased with Topsy. The advent of a

coal-black cat into a family was looked upon as a very fortunate

occurrence. Such cats have always been singled out from all others as

associated with good luck. If one is driven from the house, it is

thought to bring disaster.

In northern Europe the idea of prosperity is so associated with a black

cat that the owner of a new house often sends a black cat there, before

he takes possession, in order to secure good luck. The Egyptians called

the cat "Pasht" (their name for the moon) because her eyes were bright

in the dark. Of course I heard this from my mistress, and it is probably

more interesting to me than to my readers. Miss Milly said Topsy had

round yellow eyes, big enough to entitle her to the name of "Pasht."

She was so like Mrs. Stowe's Topsy in "Uncle Tom's Cabin" that no other

name could be so appropriate. If standing on her head and fighting every

thing that moved, even a leaf, could make her like Topsy, she deserved

the name. She was full of life and electricity. If any one smoothed her

fur the wrong way, in the dark, sparks would fly, and a snap like a

fire-cracker would follow.

We have a picture of her taken with the two boys. Karl has a great

sleepy creature called Daisy because he was white and black and had

green eyes. He is, as usual, asleep on the boy's knees. Will holds

Topsy, and his face wears a distressed expression, for she is tearing

and clawing him, trying to escape.

Daisy belonged to Miss Eleanor. She brought him home one evening from a

friend's. She put him in a closet over night, Karl slept in his aunt's

bed, and just before morning she got Daisy and hid him at the foot of

the bed.

When Karl awoke he teased for a story. Aunt Nellie bewitched the

children with her original tales of animals. She began the oft-told

story of the little pig family, when Karl said,--

"Hark! I hear breathing."

"Nonsense," said Aunt Nellie; "perhaps it is the little pink pig."

Pretty soon, however, the kitten had grown warm and comfortable, and

ventured on a louder purr than he had given before. Karl started up

saying:--

"Oh, stop! Aunt Nellie, I do bleevs it is a kitty."

There was no longer chance for concealment, and the kitten was produced,

to the boy's great delight. When Willie came in from his mother's room

to ask for his story, the same fun was repeated.

The children were very much pleased with him, and named him Daisy. Their

aunties remonstrated at one of his sex being called Daisy; but when the

children asked in an aggrieved manner, "Are there no boy daisies?" as

they were not able to answer the question in a satisfactory manner, he

was allowed to bear the name of Daisy. (There is no doubt that since

then they have decided that boys have as good a right to be called

Daisies as girls, for my mistress called me Daisy, and I like it.)

Three years after Daisy came to them he disappeared, and they mourned

long for him, particularly because they thought a neighbor who disliked

cats had killed him.

Topsy quarrelled with him and drove him about, but Daisy was sweet

tempered and bore it so quietly that Topsy despised him. She did not

love any cat unless she could fight with him. Topsy had a great many

kittens. Like many human mothers, she was not fond of taking care of her

children. She was very peremptory, cuffing them right and left at the

least provocation. She was a cat "Mrs. Jellyby," the Borrioboola-gha

mission being more to her taste than her home. She did not care to

chaperon sons and daughters into society, and she cast them adrift as

soon as possible. One kitten was always kept for her, and she never

seemed to miss the others. When she was ready to wean that one, it was

provided with a good home, without the least interest on her part. The

family were very fond of kittens, but dared not get interested in them,

for they could only keep two at one time.

She had one beautiful little black one, and Miss Eleanor became so fond

of her that she decided to keep her for her own. She deserves another

chapter.

X

LITTLE PEARL

Little Pearl was coal-black, with one little white star under her chin.

She was the only one of all Topsy's kittens that was black. Topsy did

show more affection for her than for any of the others. She had bright

yellow eyes like her mother's, and her fur was soft and glossy as silk.

She was very sweet tempered, and never would strike back, as her

brothers and sisters had done when their mother washed them, cuffing

them if they dared move.

Miss Eleanor was devoted to little Pearl, but all her care could not

keep her. She died from some internal disease when she was about four

months old. She was a perfect skeleton, and her mother nursed her out of

pity because she could not take much food.

One evening Miss Milly returned home from a visit, and on going to Miss

Eleanor's room saw something in the middle of the floor covered with an

apron. Miss Eleanor sat by the window, in great affliction. She lifted

the apron, and there lay little Pearl, looking just like a lovely piece

of sculpture.

Miss Eleanor said: "I had her in my lap, when Topsy came in, and as she

seemed to be amiable, I laid little Pearl by the side of her. Topsy

began to lick her fur, and then she allowed her to nurse. But it was

only a feeble effort; her little lips fell away from her mother's

breast, and with one soft sigh little Pearl's short life ended."

Topsy looked at her for one moment, then, with a piteous mew, she rushed

out of the room and never returned till Miss Milly found her, and,

taking her in her arms, comforted her.

They took a strong pasteboard box and laid in some wool and a soft

handkerchief, and little Pearl looked lovely on the soft white bed. They

put geraniums and white flowers around her; for she had played often in

the fragrant beds they plucked them from. Then the box was closed up and

put in a back room till morning. They made Topsy keep an unwilling vigil

to keep away rats.

In the morning they engaged three children belonging to a poor family

living near them to dig a grave. They came armed with shovels and spades

enough to dig many miles. Miss Milly said she worked harder as overseer

than she would at digging the grave alone. They were willing to work,

but ignorant of the way.

It was a very pathetic sight,--a dark cloudy day, the sun obscured, the

wind rustling through the trees, and even the flowers drooped their

heads; Miss Eleanor, with the box in her arms, and Miss Milly with the

improvised grave-diggers standing by the open grave.

Miss Milly held Topsy in her arms; but it was hard work, she made such

frantic efforts to free herself. At last she did escape, and ran up the

apple tree, and out on the branch that hung over the open grave. Here

she looked down on them, while they laid away her dear little kitten.

After the grave-diggers had raked the earth over the spot, and received

their money and departed, Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly put fresh flowers

around it and a large pot containing a nice geranium in the middle.