The Old Lady and her Cat.
Catshave nine lives, so everybody says. Certainly, they go through more disasters than any other animal, and have more hair-breadth escapes. I have seen cats fall from the top of a house, and get up, and run away as if nothing had happened. That is, you will say, because they always alight on their feet. Perhaps there may be something in this; be that as it may, I am about to relate to you the adventures of a cat, which are as wonderful as they are true.
I wish you could have seen her picture; she seemed as if she were entering into conversation with her mistress. And so she did in her way; she could purr when she was happy, and mew when she wanted anything. But more than this, she could show by herlooks, that she understood a good deal the old lady said to her.
She was a good old creature, this old lady, and she loved her cat, because she had nobody else to love, and her cat loved her; and well she might, for the old lady made a pet of her. She fed her every morning from her own table, with new roll and new milk; then for dinner she would have cooked for her a little kidney, or some other savory morsel. At tea time, puss used to stand with her feet on the elbow of the old lady’s chair, and many a nice bit did she receive during that meal, with a saucer of milk before the tea things were taken away.
Then she had a nice bed. A cushion stuffed with wool, by day to repose herself upon, and for night she had a little wicker basket with a hole to creep in at; there she curled herself so snugly, that many a poor creature would have envied her. In the morning she used to run up stairs, the moment the servant came down, and mew at her mistress’s door till she was let in; and there she would stop with her till she was dressed, turning her tail and rubbing against her mistress’s garments, till she came down stairs, as much as to say, I am glad to see you this morning.
But it was not always so with Miss Puss, I assure you: she had seen many adventures, and had many escapes. Few cats had gone through more troubles than she. I will tell you one of the events of her life. I think the story will please you. Well, you must know that Mogette, for that was her name, was, what is called a stable-cat; that is, a cat kept in the stable to look after the rats, that they might not eat the horses’ corn.
Mogette once had five little kittens; and pretty little things they were, and fond enough she was of them. She thought too, she had secured them all from danger by hiding them in a hole in the hay-loft; which she had lined with hay to make it nice and warm. She never left her young ones except she was very hungry; and then only a few minutes, just to keep herself from starving. She would then return, and purr fondly over her kittens, showing how much she loved them.
There was an ugly, ill-tempered stable-boy, named Sturt, and a very cruel boy he was to cats. He was very fond of dogs, and never so fond of them as when they turned a cat on its back, or drew a rat from his hole. His chief delight was in cat hunting.
He had a fierce little terrier dog, which he taught to be as cruel as himself. This dog was always on the watch for cats.
Poor puss, like a wise cat, had secreted her kittens in the hay-loft, on purpose to guard against this dog. But she often heard him bark in the day, and felt quite frightened, although she knew he could not get up into the hay-loft, still she feared that some day, when her kittens grew larger, they would come down and he would tease them.
The dogSnap, for that was his name, never saw puss but he chased her round the stable-yard. On one occasion, this boy, Sturt, set him on, and puss could not get out of the way till she flew up an apple tree, and here the dog watched her, and would not let her come down. Puss thought of her kittens, and at last made a desperate plunge at Snap, scratching his face and eyes most wofully, and ran with all speed to the ladder leading to the hay-loft.
Up this she ran, and Snap after her. When she had mounted three or four of the steps, she turned round and gave him such a parting scratch, as tumbled him off the ladder; while Sturt threw the curry-comb at her, as she made good her retreat into the hay-loft.
Nor was this all; for, feeling incensed at his dog being beaten, Sturt followed puss, and at last found her hiding-place, with the five little kittens. “Oh, oh! marm,” said he, “here are you and your kittens.” With that, he attempted to drag the kittens out; but puss flew at him with the greatest violence, and bit and scratched his hands till they bled profusely.
It was a day or two before the fourth of July, and Sturt had for some time been preparing squibs and crackers for that well known day. It occurred to him that the best way to dislodge the old cat would be to treat her to a squib or two: “for that will bring her out,” he said to himself, “if anything will.”
Full of this notion he hastened down stairs, and groped his hand to the bottom of the oat-bin, where he had his combustibles, for fear of being found; and, procuring a light, he took one of the largest “double-bangers” he could find, and ascended quietly into the hay-loft.
He crept cautiously to pussy’s hole, and having lit the end of the squib, placed the thick part so that it would rush into the hole as soon as it took fire, and retreated to the corner of the hay-loft to see the sport.
Presently the squib ignited, and just as he had supposed, darted into the cat’s hole. But puss never came out, and in a momentthe whole of the hay-loft was on fire!
Sturt hastened to run down the ladder; but in his hurry and alarm, missed his step, and put his leg through a hole in the floor of the loft. Before he could extricate himself, the flames were all blazing around him. He called as loud as he could, but all to no purpose. He made, however, towards the outside door—at last he reached it; but he was all of a blaze. He leaped down into the stable-yard, half roasted, and in the fall broke his leg.
As to puss, after the squib exploded, she endeavored to get off; but she could not leave her kittens. First she took one up in her mouth, and then the other; then she tried to take two at once. Oh! if you had seen this poor cat’s affection for her young, how much better you would have thought her, than that wicked boy.
At last, however, poor puss darted off with one of her kittens. She was in a terrible fright, you will believe. She ran up a wooden waterspout, leading in a slanting direction to an adjoining shed, with the kitten in her mouth. She then bore it over the gable end of a house, till she got into a gutter on the other side; along this she travelled, and again mounted another roof; on the top of this she walked, still carrying her kitten in her mouth, till at last she came to a cow-house and hay-stack at the other side of the farm. Into this hay-stack she leaped, bearing her offspring with her in safety.
Poor puss returned for her other kittens; but alas! when she got back, nothing was to be seen but a quantity of red and black rafters, and vast masses of burnt hay. The poor kittens had perished in the flames.
Cornelia.—A lady of Campagnia in Italy, who was very rich, and fond of pomp and show, being on a visit to Cornelia, the illustrious mother of the Gracchi, displayed the diamonds and jewels she possessed, with some ostentation, and then requested Cornelia to permit her to see her jewels. This eminent woman dexterously contrived to turn the conversation to another subject, till her sons returned from one of the public schools; when she introduced them, saying, “these aremyjewels!”