When Ned Bently was a boy of about fifteen years of age he lost both of
his parents by yellow fever, in New Orleans. The only remaining relative
he had was a bachelor uncle, living in the mining regions of California.
Ned worked his way on board a ship, as a sailor boy, to San Francisco,
and finally arrived at the diggings where his uncle was engaged in
mining. In those early days of California mine digging the miners were
generally a very rough class of men. So it happened that soon after
Ned's arrival a great gruff "digger" offered to treat Ned to a drink of
liquor, and became very angry because he refused to touch it.
Ned scarcely shut his eyes all that night, for he was dreadfully afraid
that the miners might yet force him to drink of that which he had been
taught was certain ruin to body and soul. But to Ned's great surprise
and joy, next morning the very man who the night before had offered to
treat him took a bold stand in his defense against the other miners'
attempts to force him to drink.
"The lad's about right," said the gruff old digger. "If he can live out
here without drinkin' liquor, he'll be able to buy and sell the whole of
ye by'n'by." And so it proved, for Ned held fast to his resolution not
to drink, and became one of the wealthiest mine owners in California.
[Illustration: NED REFUSING TO DRINK WITH THE MINERS.]
"HODGE."
Many have a dislike to cats; but when boys say they hate cats, it is to
be feared that they mostly do so that they may have an excuse for
hunting and ill-treating them. In some cases, however, there is a
natural antipathy which those who possess it cannot help, though it
seems very foolish and unreasonable.
James Boswell tells us that he was "unluckily one of those who have an
antipathy to a cat," so that he was uneasy when in a room with one. It
certainly was rather unlucky, for he was writing the life of Dr.
Johnson, and wishing to be as much in his company as possible was
frequently at his house. Now the Doctor had a favorite tomcat whom he
called "Hodge," and Boswell relates how he "suffered from the presence
of this same Hodge."
He says, "I recollect him one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson's breast,
apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend, smiling and half
whistling, rubbed down his back and pulled him by the tail, and when I
observed that he was a fine cat, saying, 'Why, yes, Sir, but I have had
cats whom I liked better than this,' and then, as if perceiving Hodge to
be out of countenance, he added! 'But he's a very fine cat; a very fine
cat, indeed.'"
Hodge was well taken care of, and did not have to catch rats for a
living, for the Doctor was in the habit of treating him to oysters.
[Illustration: DR. JOHNSON AND HIS CAT.]