Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 63458-h.htm or 63458-h.zip:
(https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/63458/pg63458-images.html)
or
(https://www.gutenberg.org/files/63458/63458-h.zip)
Images of the original pages are available through
Internet Archive. See
https://archive.org/details/pussycattown00tagg
Transcriber’s note:
Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
[Illustration]
PUSSY-CAT TOWN
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
Roses of
St. Elizabeth Series
⚜
Each 1 vol., small quarto, illustrated and decorated in color. $1.00
⚜
The Roses of Saint Elizabeth
BY JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF
Gabriel and the Hour Book
BY EVALEEN STEIN
The Enchanted Automobile
Translated from the French by
MARY J. SAFFORD
Pussy-Cat Town
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
⚜
L. C. PAGE & COMPANY
New England Building
BOSTON, MASS.
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration:
“They progressed comfortably, hearing without difficulty the story of
the founding of Purrington.”
(See page 190)]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
The Roses of St. Elizabeth Series
---------------------------------------------------------
PUSSY-CAT TOWN
by
MARION AMES TAGGART
Illustrated in Colours by Rebecca Chase
[Illustration]
L. C. Page & Company
Boston Membi
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Copyright, 1906, by
L. C. Page & Company
(Incorporated)
All rights reserved
First Impression, September, 1906
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Colonial Press
Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.
Boston, U. S. A.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
To my comforting cats,
Bandersnatch-Bandarlog and Kiku-san,
sitting close to me now and always when I
write; to the memory of my wise Tommy
Traddles; to Bidelia Purplay W.; to
Wutz-Butz and Madam Laura K., all “really
and truly” cats, this book is dedicated by
their humble admirer
Marion Ames Taggart
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Ban-Ban, the Bold 1
II. Six Small Cats Do Great Things 24
III. The Purrers of Purrington 45
IV. A Five O’clock Catnip Tea 66
V. The Scampishness of Scamp 87
VI. Mrs. Brindle Brings Startling 107
News
VII. They Fought Like Cats and 126
Dogs!
VIII. Ban-Ban and Kiku-san form an 146
Embassy
IX. Visitors to Purrington 164
X. The Purrers Bestow the Freedom 184
of Purrington
XI. An Election and a Defection 204
XII. Wedding-bells and Brief 224
Farewells
[Illustration]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
“They progressed comfortably, Frontispiece
hearing without difficulty the
story of the founding of
Purrington” (see page 190)
Nugget 8
Puttel 9
Dolly Varden 17
“‘I have had a Great Idea’” 18
Singing the Song 23
One of the Stranger Cats 27
“Little Dolly Varden fell asleep” 31
“S. Katz Fresh Mice Daily” 49
“The shout of welcome which all the 59
Purrers of Purring to raised”
“A long, creamy, blessed drink” 61
“One came to town with five 68
kittens!”
“A small, gray cat called Posty” 68
The Dance 82
“Scamp looked him over scornfully” 100
“Licking him frantically” 109
“Ready to pounce” 133
“Each with a cat on his back” 136
“The cats watched the retreat” 142
“They sat for a time resting” 144
“Kiku-san came and rubbed his cheek 160
against Tommy’s”
“Their speed increased” 165
“She gathered, the happy, purring 170
white creature into her arms”
“A black cat played the violin” 201
“Bidelia sobbed” 220
“Had often sat on a big volume of 226
Shakespeare”
“It was a most beautiful sight” 238
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
BAN-BAN, THE BOLD
He was really very beautiful. High-born, too,—a pure Maltese! He had a
short, saucy face; a square little nose, with which he was apt to pry
into other people’s business; and he saw everything with his bright
eyes, and understood most things with his quick wit. But he had almost
no patience at all, and he was as full of pranks as a monkey—indeed,
that’s what gave him his name.
A boy? Mercy, no! Whoever heard of a pure Maltese boy? A cat, of course,
but such a beauty! He was as quick as he could be, and ran very fast,
and jumped like a flash—flashes do jump, so that’s all right. Did you
never see a flash of lightning jump from one cloud to another? Well,
this Maltese kitten was so quick that his little master called him
Bandersnatch—out of “Through the Looking-Glass”, you know, where the
White King says: “You might as well try to catch a Bandersnatch,” or, in
another place: “You might as well try to stop a Bandersnatch.” So that
is where quick little Ban-Ban got his first name. And the second Ban was
short for Bandarlog, the name of the monkey people in the Jungle Book,
because he was so much more like a monkey than a quiet, purry, furry,
mild-mannered kitten.
Ban-Ban had the very best home a cat could have; indeed, he was a good
deal spoiled. In this home he grew up to be three years old, but it was
only his body that grew bigger. Inside that Maltese body he wore a
kitten’s heart, getting younger every minute, loving play better, and
cutting up more didoes all the time, instead of settling down into a
staid cat, as any one would have expected him to do who saw the purple
shades in his dark gray suit!
Now Ban-Ban loved his little master very much—not that he ever thought
of him as his “master;” no cat ever would admit having a master. Ban-Ban
considered the little boy as a friend whom he, a prince of the Maltese
Royal Family, allowed to play with him. He was more useful than kitten
friends because he could open doors, drag strings around, hide sticks
under the edges of rugs, get milk from the refrigerator, cut up meat,
play hide-and-go-seek better than cats, and shake up soft knitted things
into fine beds on cold days, besides scratching a person under the chin
and on the side of the cheek in a way that made a person stick out his
little red tongue and purr, no matter how much he felt like playing. But
that is not having a master; that is really keeping a very useful and
devoted servant. Ban-Ban hated of all things to show that he loved
little Rob; he liked to pretend that he was only polite to him, and
often, when he meant to get up in Rob’s lap for a little talk, if Rob
saw him coming, Ban-Ban would sit down and wash his face, trying to look
as if he had never once thought of being loving. You see he was
independent.
Because he was independent, and so very impatient, it all came about.
One day Ban-Ban had an idea dart into his brain. Ban-Ban’s ideas always
darted, they never came slowly; they were just like everything else
about him, “as fast as a Bandersnatch.” “If two-legged people can build
towns and live in them without asking the help of us cats, why can’t we
cats have a town of our own, and not ask the help of the two-legged
people? They are more clumsy and stupid than we are—except Rob; he isn’t
clumsy or stupid.”
It was such a wonderful thought that it half-stunned even Ban-Ban. For
as much as five minutes he sat perfectly still, with only the tippest
tip of his tail moving. Then he started up with a leap, as if he were
jumping after those lost five minutes just as he jumped for butterflies,
and away he ran down the garden to find some of his friends.
Bidelia was one of these friends. She was a little creature, very young,
a tortoise-shell cat, not pretty, but so clever that no one who didn’t
know her could believe how clever she was. Her cat acquaintances
suspected that she wrote stories on the sly, for her sides were always
spattered with big black spots on a yellow ground, and her friends
believed she got ink on her yellow clothes writing stories for the
magazines, because she was so very clever, and people who are very
clever and write books are apt to be untidy with their ink.
Though she was younger than Ban-Ban by nearly two years she had three
children, and they were already two months old: Nugget, all yellow,
Puttel, black with a white thumb-mark under her chin, and Dolly Varden,
with a tortoise-shell dress like her mother’s. Bidelia had good reason
to be as proud of her children as she was!
[Illustration:
Nugget.]
Another of Ban-Ban’s friends was Mr. Thomas Traddles, a tiger cat, who
was so wise and had such remarkable judgment that every one came to him
for advice. He was older than Ban-Ban, and he was one of that queer sort
of friends which we all have: people whom we do not really like, but
whom we respect heaps and heaps, and without whom we cannot get along.
Not that there was any reason why Ban-Ban should not like Tommy
Traddles; his disposition was perfect, and his manners of the best.
Perhaps it was because Tom was so sensible and grave, and Ban-Ban was
such a little firebrand, for we none of us really like people who make
us feel that we are in the wrong, not unless we are far more
humble-minded folk than was proud little Ban-Ban.
[Illustration:
Puttel.]
There, too, was Wutz-Butz, whose name didn’t mean much, but that the
little girl who owned him liked to mix up letters and call him by queer
sounds. He was a gray and white cat who would let the little girl whom
he thought he owned, but who thought that she owned him, do anything
under the sun to him, and he would stand it with a perfect mush of
patience, but out among the cats he was a warrior. He fought every one
that he happened to dislike, and Ban-Ban was always thankful Wutz-Butz
liked him—and Ban-Ban was not a coward, either. Wutz-Butz had a big,
round head, and a short, thick-set body, and his complexion was apt to
get rumpled up—can complexions get rumpled? Well, at any rate this cat’s
complexion looked rumpled—because of the many strong arguments he had
with Ruth’s grandmother’s big white cat with the gray ears. Ruth was the
little girl who owned Wutz-Butz, or whom he owned, according to whether
you believe from her or his side of the question.
Ban-Ban had another friend to whom he was bound by ties of the highest
respect and gratitude. This was Madam Laura, a sweet, kindly middle-aged
lady,—perhaps a trifle past middle age,—to whom all the cats went for
comfort and teaching. She was a widow lady, so she wore a great deal of
black over her white sides and back, laid on in big spots. She had had a
great many sons and daughters, but they had all gone to make their own
way in the world, and Madam Laura was said to be quite wealthy, with no
one dependent upon her for mice. She was a cat with a mother’s heart for
all the mewing world, and no cat could be so scratchy as not to love
this gentle lady.
The last and dearest of Ban-Ban’s friends was Kiku, the snow-white cat,
whose name was a Japanese word that means chrysanthemum, and whose
nature was as flower-like as his name. He lived next door to Ban-Ban,
and played with him most of the time. His little mistress was Rob’s
dearest friend, his cousin, and her name was Lois. She was a year
younger than Rob, which made her only seven years old, but she was not
the least bit careless or rough with her pets, as some children are, and
Kiku was a very lucky “kitteny-wink, little white lambkin,” as Lois
called him.
Kiku was always called “Kiku-san,” because “san” is a mark of honour
among the Japanese, and white Kiku was so gentle and lovely-mannered
that no one could deny him the respectful title that his Japanese name
suggested. Kiku-san wore white garments with pink trimmings, and he kept
them snowy white, for he only went out to play in the grass in fine
weather, and slept at night cuddled close in Lois’s arms. He puckered
his mouth when he was spoken to, and brought his lids down over his
amber eyes as if he knew he was most sweet and lovable, fully deserving
all the praise which he received—and so he did, for nothing would tempt
him to scratch; he never lost his temper, unless he had lost it for good
and all when he was born, and had never found it again, which seemed to
be the case, for no one had ever seen him cross.
These were Ban-Ban’s friends, and it was to find them, or all of them
that he could find, that he ran so fast down the garden after his
wonderful idea struck him.
He came upon Bidelia, who was sitting in the sunshine letting the
children play with her tail.
“Oh, Bidelia!” cried Ban-Ban, “have you seen any of the others?”
“How out of breath you are!” said Bidelia, reproachfully. She was so
little that she could jump about all day and never lose her breath.
“Tommy Traddles is sunning himself on the fence. Madam Laura is singing
a few Felines on the garden bench.” A Feline is a kind of cat hymn.
“Do you think you could trust one of the kittens to hunt up Wutz-Butz,
and Kiku-san, and ask them to join us here? I have something
catelovelant to tell them,” said Ban-Ban. “Catelovelant” means “lovely
for cats.”
“I think Nugget could go; he is getting very plump and reliable,”
returned Bidelia. “Puttel, go and ask Madam Laura if she would kindly
come over here when she has finished her Felines. And, Dolly Varden, go
waken Mr. Traddles and ask him to come. If he is very sound asleep you
may stand up on your hind legs and pull his tail—very gently,” she
added, as Dolly spun around three times rapidly, “and with the greatest
respect.”
The three kittens scampered off, and Ban-Ban with much effort kept
himself from pouring out to Bidelia the Great Idea. Fortunately the
kittens so quickly got together the cats for whom they were sent that
Ban-Ban was saved from choosing between telling or having a fit.
[Illustration:
Dolly Varden.]
“You had something to say to us, my dear?” hinted Madam Laura after they
were all seated. Her voice sounded like rolls of butter rolling, it was
so soft and smooth.
“Yes,” said Ban-Ban, his fur beginning to stick up all over and his tail
to swell, as it always did when he was excited. “I have had a Great
Idea.”
“You were clever from your kittenhood, Bannie,” said Madam Laura, who
had known his grandmother.
[Illustration:
“‘I have had a Great Idea.’”]
“Human beings,” Ban-Ban continued, trying to keep back the little
puffing spits which he often gave when he was stirred, “Human beings
build towns and live in them. They never ask our help; they feel that
they own the towns. Very likely they do; but as their cats always own
the human beings, it doesn’t matter. What I have to suggest is that
there is no reason why cats should not build and own a city just as the
human beings do. I think that we should be the ones to do this. Let us,
all of us here, go away to some lovely spot and build a city. Let us ask
all the poor, homeless cats, who don’t own any human beings, and so have
very little food and no warm places to live, to join us. Let us have a
city of cats, and let us hand our names down in all future categories
and catalogues and histories as the Fathers—and Mothers”—he added,
bowing to Madam Laura and Bidelia—“of Our Country, Glory of Our Race.”
“Hear, hear!” cried Wutz-Butz. He pronounced it: “He-ar, He-ar!” It
sounded like a mew.
“Bandersnatch-Bandarlog, you are indeed A Great Mind,” said Tommy
Traddles, gravely.
“It will be lovely!” cried Bidelia, joyously. “I want a more extended
field.”
“And more field-mice,” added Laura, who was not clever, only good, which
is better than mere cleverness, as all properly taught cats know.
“Then you agree?” asked Ban-Ban, not able, this time, to keep from
ending in a “P-pst!” of pure excitement.
“Yes, yes,” cried all the cats together.
“Yes,” added Kiku-san alone, “but I am afraid that Lois will need me.”
“Our human beings will soon get other cats,” said Ban-Ban, wisely. “I
have always noticed they soon get another cat to wait upon, when they
lose the one they have had. Not that I shall leave Rob long without me,”
he added. “Rob and I are friends. But the founding of this city is a
duty; it will be a haven for oppressed cats. When shall we go?”
“On the third day from this one,” said Tommy Traddles, promptly. “In the
meantime we will eat all that we can, and get together as many
provisions as we can carry.”
“Before we part,” said Bidelia, “let us sing a song. Wait; I will make
one for this occasion.”
It was the custom of these cats to sing each night before separating, so
the others all willingly sat down to wait while Bidelia wrote the words
which were to commemorate their newly taken and important resolution.
[Illustration:
Singing the song.]
Soon that clever little cat announced the song ready, and they sang the
following words to the air of the “Battle Hymn of the Republic:”
“We’ll put our fur in order and brave Pilgrim-cats we’ll be;
With whiskers out and tails erect we’ll march courageously.
We’ll found a town for other cats, less fortunate than we:
Each cat shall have his day!
“We love the friends that love us, and our hearts to them are true;
We’ll ne’er forget the kindly folk beside whose hearths we grew,
But though our friends are good to us, mankind is cruel, too:
Each cat must have his day!
“Then, onward, Pilgrim-cats, nor pause to cast a look behind,
For duty calls our velvet paws our kindred’s wounds to bind;
In Pussy-Town all homeless cats a home and peace may find:
Each cat shall have his day.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------