I want to tell you about our cat, whose name is Miss Moll; my
little brother named her, and he is three years old. Miss Moll
trots all over the house, and when she wants to go out, she stands
by the door and mews. When she wants to come in, she scratches at
the door. She will lie down on her back, and play with any one's
hand, although she is a middle-aged cat.
We also have a dog, but he does not amount to much, except that he
is a good watch-dog, and he belonged to my brother, who is now
dead.
I go to the public school, where I received a prize for writing and
composition. (They don't give prizes as a general thing.) This is
my first letter.