A RIDE.
At Catskill Mr. Cary and Julia left the boat; and Ellen, too, with her
hands full of baskets, bags, and wraps.
They walked aside from the crowd on the dock, towards a man who was
holding the reins of two bright bay horses.
This was uncle Benjamin. He had left his hay-field, ten miles away,
and come down to the river to welcome our travellers. Smiles and black
eyes lit up his sunburnt face cheerily.
If you had been looking off from the boat to see Julia go ashore, you
would have wished you too might have been lifted by his strong arms
into his easy carriage.
Ellen and the baskets were next put in. Mr. Cary sprang to the front
seat, and uncle Benjamin got up beside him.
The horses started as if they were in a hurry to get through the bars
of their green pasture-lot again. Away they went over the hills.
Julia thought there was no other man so good as uncle Benjamin. She
thought he owned all that country, that all the calves and colts
scampering about the farms they passed belonged to him, and many an
eager question she asked about what she saw.
“O uncle Benjamin!” she shouted at last, so quickly that he half
stopped his horses, as he turned to hear, “have you got any kittens for
me?”
“Ha! ha!” he laughed; “I thought you had dropped your hat or bag in the
road. Got any kittens? Can’t say. Charley or Johnny will know.”
A few more hills were crossed, and uncle Benjamin was at home.
Aunt Abby stood smiling at the open door; but the boys met the carriage
at the gate. They were in haste to see this dear little cousin who came
but once a year.
Before Mr. Cary had hung up his dusty linen coat, Julia whispered,
“Papa, they _have_ got kittens, four of them. Please ask if I may have
one for my own self.”
Mr. Cary told aunt Abby how lonely Julia was at home without her
mother; how for weeks her heart had been so sad she could hardly play
at all. She was getting used to the stillness in the house, and the
heartache was wearing away. But she wanted some _live_ thing to play
with, she said, and hoped to take home a _real_ kitten.
“Poor little motherless girl!” sighed aunt Abby.
When called to tea, Julia came in smiling, with Charley and Johnny, who
had been showing her their out-door pets.
After tea, Julia led her father to the old woodhouse stairway, where
there was a more lowly kind of mother-love to be seen.
A large contented-looking cat lay on the door-step, winking fearlessly
at them. The cunningest of four kittens was climbing on her back. Two
prettier kittens were having a frolic at her feet, while the other one
sat soberly looking on. Sometimes the wild ones rolled over and over
each other down the steps.
“Did you ever see such lovely, pesshus kittens, papa dear?”
[Illustration: Cat and kittens]
“None so precious to you and this mother-cat,” her papa said, smiling
to see her so pleased.
“And I can have one! All the folks say so. Now help me find out, papa,
which is the bestest kitty.”
“I wish a mouse would come along; then I’d tell you which _I_ think is
the best,” said Charley.
“But I don’t care ’bout my kitty’s catching mice; I only want her to
play with me. She shall have milk to drink, and part of my dinner every
day.”
“Kittens would look prettier to me if I didn’t know they would grow to
be cats,” Johnny said.
[Illustration: One cat]
“Bah! yes!” said Charley. “Up on that shed, by your bedroom window—see,
Julia—see that big striped cat! Johnny and I just loved him when he
was a kitten. But he kills our birds, and that we can’t forgive.”
Up spoke kind-hearted Johnny: “I b’lieve he’s the wickedest, badest cat
that meows. So many nests he has spoiled! Then the mother-birds cry and
call so, we have to stop our ears. When I get a gun, I b’lieve I’ll
shoot you, Mr. Tom.”
Johnny handled a willow-rod as if it were a gun, and pointed it up at
the big gray cat. But it did not fear him, it was up so high. Perhaps
it knew nothing about guns.
“Better go to bed now, Julia. Dream about the kittens, and in the
morning we will see which one we like the best.”
[Illustration: Decoration]