I thought I would write again, and see whether my letter could find
a place in Our Post-office Box this time. I came home a few weeks
ago from my visit to the country. While I was at my grandpa's my
sister and I had a real nice time playing by the creek which was
below the house. We built a raft, and had some splendid rides on
it. Last night I came home from Newburgh, where I went soon after
my return from the country. On my way home with papa and mamma we
saw a very large and very old-looking cat in the butcher's shop,
and the butcher who owned him told papa he was twenty-three years
old. He said he knew it to be so, because puss had been there with
him for all that time. For the last four or five years they had
chopped his meat fine for him, because he had but two teeth left, I
think if he were mine I would be very proud of him--would not you?