Citation
Cat stories

Material Information

Title:
Cat stories
Creator:
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885
Ledyard, Addie ( Illustrator )
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885
Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885
Roberts Brothers (Boston, Mass.) ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
Boston
Publisher:
Roberts Brothers
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
89, 101, 156, [4] p. : ill. ; 19 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Cats -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Human-animal relationships -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Pets -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Children's stories ( lcsh )
Children's stories -- 1895 ( lcsh )
Publishers' catalogues -- 1895 ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1895
Genre:
Children's stories
Publishers' catalogues ( rbgenr )
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Each story has a separate title page the second dated 1897, and the third dated 1894.
General Note:
Illustrations by Addie Ledyard.
General Note:
Publisher's catalogue follows text.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Helen Jackson (H.H.) ; Letters from a cat, Mammy Tittleback and her family, Hunter of cats of Connorloa

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026824382 ( ALEPH )
ALH2489 ( NOTIS )
227209854 ( OCLC )

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LETTERS FROM A CAT.




























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CAT STORIES.



BY

HELEN JACKSON (H. H),

AUTHOR OF “ RAMONA,” ‘‘NELLY’S SILVER MINE,” “BITS OF TALK,’ ETC.

LETTERS FROM A CAT.

MAMMY TITTLEBACK AND HER
FAMILY.

THE HUNTER CATS OF CONNORLOA.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

BOSTON:

ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1895

































© DO not feel wholly
sure that my Pussy
wrote these letters
herself. They al-
ways came inside
the letters written
to me by my mamma, or other friends, and
I never caught Pussy writing at any time

when I was at home; but the printing











6 INTRODUCTION.





was pretty bad, and they were signed by
Pussy’s name; and my mamma always
looked very mysterious when I asked about
them, as if there were some very great
secret about it all; so that until I grew
to be a big girl, I never doubted but that
Pussy printed them all alone by herself,
after dark.

They were written when I was a very
little girl, and was away from home with
my father on a journey. We made this
journey in our own carriage, and it was
one of the pleasantest things that ever
happened to me. My clothes and my
father’s were packed in a little leather

valise which was hung by straps under-











INTRODUCTION. 7



neath the carriage, and went swinging,
swinging, back and forth, as the wheels
went round. My father and I used to
walk up all the steep hills, because old
Charley, our horse, was not very strong ;
and I kept my eyes on that valise all
the while I was walking behind the car-
riage; it seemed to me the most unsafe
way to carry a valise, and I wished very
much that my best dress had been put in
a bundle that I could carry in my lap.
This was the only drawback on the pleas-
ure of my journey,—my fear that the
valise would fall off when we did not know
it, and be left in the road, and then I should

not have anything nice to wear when I











8 INTRODUCTION.



reached my aunt's house. But the valise
went through all safe, and I had the sat-
isfaction of wearing my best dress every
afternoon while I stayed ; and I was foolish
enough to think a great deal of this.

On the fourth day after our arrival came
a letter from my mamma, giving me a
great many directions how to behave, and
enclosing this first letter from Pussy. I
carried both letters in my apron pocket
all the time. They were the first letters
I ever had received, and I was very proud
of them. I showed them to everybody,
and everybody laughed hard at Pussy’s,
and asked me if I believed that Pussy
printed it herself. I thought perhaps my















INTRODUCTION. 9



mamma held her paw, with the pen in it,
as she had sometimes held my hand for
me, and guided my pen to write a few
words. I asked papa to please to ask
mamma, in his letter, if that were the way
Pussy did it; but when his next letter
from mamma came, he read me this sen-
tence: out-of it:- “Vell: Helen I) did: not
hold Pussy’s paw to write that letter.”
So then I felt sure Pussy did it herself;
and as I told you, I had grown up to be
quite a big girl before I began to doubt
it. You see I thought my Pussy such a
wonderful Pussy that nothing was too re-
markable for her to do. I knew very well

that cats generally did not know how to









IO INTRODUCTION.





read or write; but I thought there had
never been such a cat in the world as this
Pussy of mine. It is a great many years
since she digas but I can see her before
me-to-day as plainly as if it were only
yesterday that I had really seen her alive.

She was a little kitten when I first had
her; but she grew fast, and was very soon
bigger than I wanted her to be. I wanted
her to stay little. Her fur was a beautiful
dark gray color, and there were black
stripes ‘on her sides, like the Stripes on a
tiger. Her eyes were very big, and her
ears unusually long and pointed. This
made her look like a fox; and she was so

bright and mischievous that some people







INTRODUCTION. Il



thought she must be part fox. She used
to do one thing that I never heard of any
other cat’s doing: she used to play hide-
and-seek. Did you ever hear of a cat’s
playing hide-and-seek? And the most
wonderful part of it was, that she took it
up of her own accord. As soon as she
heard me shut the gate in the yard at noon,
when school was done, she would run up
the stairs as hard as she could go, and
take her place at the top, where she could
just peep through the banisters. When
I opened the door, she would give a funny
little mew, something like the mew cats
make when they call their kittens. Then

as soon as I stepped on the first stair to













1-2 INTRODUCTION.



come up to her, she would race away at
the top of her speed, and hide under a
bed; and when I reached the room, there
would be no Pussy to be seen. If I called
her, she would come out from under the
bed; but if I left the room, and went down
stairs without speaking, in less than a min-
ute she would fly back to her post at the
head of the stairs, and call again with the
peculiar mew. As soon as I appeared,
off she would run, and hide under the bed
as before. Sometimes she would do this
three or four times; and it was a favorite
amusement of my mother’s to exhibit this
trick of hers to strangers. It was odd,

though; she never would do it twice, when









INTRODUCTION. 13



she observed that other people were watch-
ing. | When I called her, and she came out
from under the bed, if there were strangers
looking on, she would walk straight to me
in the demurest manner, as if it were a
pure accident that she happened to be
under that bed; and no matter what I did
or said, her frolic was over for that day.

She used to follow me, just like a little
dog, wherever I went. She followed me
to school every day, and we had great diff-
culty on Sundays to keep her from follow-
ing us to church. Once she followed me,
when it made a good many people laugh,
in spite of themselves, on an occasion

when it was very improper for them to











Tac INTRODUCTION.



laugh, and they were all feeling very sad.
‘It was at the funeral of one of the profes-
sors in the college.

The professors’ families all sat together ;
and when the time came for them to walk
out of the house and get into the carriages
to go to the graveyard, they were called,
one after the other, by name. When it
came to our turn, my father and mother
went first, arm-in-arm; then my sister and
I; and then, who should rise, very gravely,
but my Pussy, who had slipped into the
room after me, and had not been noticed
in the crowd. With a slow and deliberate
gait she walked along, directly behind my

sister and me, as if she were the remaining











INTRODUCTION. 15



member of the family, as indeed she was.
People began to smile, and as we passed
through the front door, and went down the
steps, some of the men and boys standing
there laughed out. I do not wonder; for
it must have been a very comical sight.
In a second more, somebody sprang for-
ward and snatched Pussy up. Such a
scream as she gave! and scratched his face
with her claws, so that he was glad to put
her down. As soon as I heard her voice,
I turned round, and called her in a low
tone. She ran quickly to me, and I picked
her up and carried her in my arms the rest
of the way. But I saw even my own papa

and mamma laughing a little, for just a













16 INTRODUCTION.



minute. That was the only funeral Pussy
ever attended.

Pussy lived several years after the
events which are related in these
letters.

It was a long time before her fur grew
out again after that terrible fall into the
soft-soap barrel. However, it did grow
out at last, and looked as well as ever.
Nobody would have known that any thing
had been the matter with her, except that
her eyes were always weak. The edges of
them never got quite well; and poor Pussy
used to sit and wash them by the hour;
sometimes mewing and looking up in my

face, with each stroke of her paw on her













INTRODUCTION. 17



eyes, aS much as to say, “ Don't you see
how sore my eyes are? Why don't you
do something for me?”

She was never good for any thing as a
mouser after that accident, nor for very
much to play with. I recollect hearing
my mother say one day to somebody, —
“Pussy was spoiled by her experience in
the cradle. She would like to be rocked
the rest of her days, I do believe; and it
is too funny to see her turn up her nose
at tough beef. It was a pity she ever
got a taste of tenderloin!”

At last, what with good feeding and
very little exercise, she grew so fat that

she was clumsy, and so lazy that she did











18 INTRODUCTION.



not want to do any thing but lie curled up
on a soft cushion.

She had outgrown my little chair, which
had a green moreen cushion in it, on
which she had slept for many a year, and
of which I myself had very little use, — she
was in it so much of the time. But now
that this was too tight for her, she took
possession of the most comfortable places
she could find, all over the house. Now it
was a sofa, now it was an arm-chair, now. it
was the foot of somebody’s bed. But wher-
ever it happened to be, it was sure to be
the precise place where she was in the way,
and the poor thing was tipped headlong

out of chairs, shoved hastily off sofas, and















INTRODUCTION. 19



driven off beds so continually, that at last
she came to understand that when she saw
any person approaching the chair, sofa, or
bed on which she happened to be lying,
the part of wisdom for her was to move
away. And it was very droll to see the
injured and reproachful expression with
which she would slowly get up, stretch all
her legs, and walk away, looking for her
next sleeping-place. Everybody in the
hause, except me, hated the sight of her;
and I had many a pitched battle with the
servants in her behalf. Even my mother,
who was the kindest human being I ever
knew, got out of patience at last, and said

to me one day :—













20 INTRODUCTION.



“Helen, your Pussy has grown so old
and so fat, she is no comfort to herself,
and a great torment to everybody else.
I think it: would be: a mercy. ‘to: kill
her.”

“Kill my Pussy!” I exclaimed, and
burst out crying, so loud and so hard
that I think my mother was frightened;
for she said quickly :—

“Never mind, dear; it shall not be
done, unless it is necessary. You would
not want Pussy to live, if she were very
uncomfortable all the time.”

“She isn’t uncomfortable,” I cried;
“she is only sleepy. If people would

let her alone, she would sleep all day.





sae]









INTRODUCTION. 21



It would be awful to kill her. You might
as well kill me!”

After that, I kept a very close eye on
Pussy; and I carried her up to bed with
me every night for a long time.

But Pussy’s days were numbered.
One morning, before I was up, my mamma
came into my room, and sat down on the
edge of my bed.

“ Helen,’ she said, “I have something
to tell you which will make you feel very
badly; but I hope you will be a good
little girl, and not make mamma unhappy
about it. You know your papa and
mamma always do what they think is

the very best thing.”











22 ' INTRODUCTION.



“What isit. mamma? 1 asked, feel-
ing very much frightened, but never think-
ing of Pussy.

“You will never see your Pussy any
more,” she replied. “She is dead.”

“Oh, where is she?” I cried. “ What
killed her? . Wont she come to life



again?”
‘No, Said: “my. mother; = she= 4s
drowned.”
Then I knew what had happened.
“Who did it?” was all I said.
“Cousin Josiah,’ she replied; “and
he took great care that Pussy. did not
suffer at all. She sank to the bottom

instantly.”



[ee ee ee eee ee









INTRODUCTION.

to
&



“Where did he drown her?” I asked.
“Down by the mill, in Mill Valley,

where the water is very deep,” answered



my mother; “we told him to take her
there.;;

At these words I cried bitterly.



“That ’s the very place I used to go
with her to play,” I exclaimed. “I'll never
go near that bridge as long as [I live, and
I'll never speak a word to Cousin Josiah
either — never !”

My mother tried to comfort me, but
it was of no use; my heart was nearly
broken.

When I went to breakfast, there sat

my cousin Josiah, looking as unconcerned



Gua









24 INTRODUCTION.



as possible, reading a newspaper. He was
a student in the college, and boarded at our
house. At the sight of him all my indigna-
tion and grief broke forth afresh. I began
to cry again; and running up to him, I
doubled up my fist and shook it in his face.

“T said I'd never speak to you as long
as I lived,” I cried; “but I will. You're
just a murderer, a real murderer; that’s
what you are! and when you go to be a
missionary, I hope the cannibals ‘ll eat
you! JI hope they'll eat you alive raw,
you mean old murderer!”

“Helen Maria!” said my father’s voice
behind me, sternly. “Helen Maria! leave

the room this moment!”













INTRODUCTION. 25



I went away sullenly, muttering, “I
don’t care, he is a murderer; and I hope
he ‘ll be drowned, if he isn’t eaten! The
Bible says the same measure ye mete shall
be meted to you again. He ought to be
drowned.”

For this sullen muttering I had to go
without my breakfast; and after break-
fast was over, 1 was made to beg Cousin
Josiah’s pardon; but I did not beg it
in my heart—not a bit—only with my
lips, just repeating the words I was told
to say; and from that time I never spoke
one word to him, nor looked at him, if I
could help it.

My kind mother offered to get another











26 INTRODUCTION.

kitten for me, but I did not want one.
After a while, my sister Ann had a present
of a pretty little gray kitten; but I never
played with it, nor took any notice of it
at all. I was as true to my Pussy as she
was to me; and from that day to this, I

have never had another Pussy!














LETTERS FROM A CAT.

I,
My Dear HE en:

That is what your mother calls
you, I know, for I jumped up on
her writing-table just now, and
looked, while she was out of the
room; and I am sure I have as
much right to call you so as she
has, for if you were my own little
kitty, and looked just like me, I
could not love you any more than









28 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



I do. How many good naps I
have had in your lap! and how
many nice bits of meat you have
saved for me out of your own din-
ner! Oh, 1 il-never det a rat, ora
mouse, touch any thing of yours so
long as I live.

I felt very unhappy after you
drove off yesterday, and did not
know what to do with myself. I
went into the barn, and thought I
would take a nap on the hay, for
I do think going to sleep is one of
the very best things for people who
are unhappy; but it seemed so
lonely without old Charlie stamping
in his stall that I could not bear it,



















fter you drove off yesterday.”

a

“T felt very unhappy

Pace 28.











LETTERS: FROM A-CAT. 29,



so I went into the garden, and lay
down under the damask rose-bush,
and caught flies) There is a kind
of fly round that bush which I like
better than any other I ever ate.
You ought to see that there is a
very great difference between my
catching flies and your doing it. I
have noticed that you never eat
them, and I have wondered that
when you were always so kind to
me you could be so cruel as to kill
poor flies for nothing: I have often
wished that I could speak to you
about it: now that your dear mother
has taught me to print, I shall be
able to say a great many things to













30 ’ LETTERS FROM A CAT.



you which I have often been un-
happy about because I could not
make you understand. I am en-
tirely discouraged about learning to
speak the English language, and I
do not think anybody takes much
trouble to learn ours; so we cats
are confined entirely to the society
of each other, which prevents our
knowing so much as we might; and
it is very lonely too, in a place where
there are so few cats kept as in
Amherst. If it were not for Mrs.
Hitchcock’s cat, and Judge Dickin-
son’s, I should really forget how to
use my tongue. When you are at
home I do not mind it, for although













LETTERS FROM A CAT. 31



I cannot talk to you, I understand
every word that you say to me, and
we have such good plays together
with the red ball. That 1s put away
now in the bottom drawer of the
little workstand in the sitting-room.
When your mother put it in, she
turned round to me, and said, “ Poor
pussy, no more good plays for you
till Helen comes home!” and I
thought I should certainly cry. But
I think it is very foolish to cry over
what cannot be helped, so I pretend-
ed to have got something into my
left eye, and rubbed it with my paw.
- It 1s very seldom that I cry over
any thing, unless it is “spilt milk.”













32 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



I must confess, I have often cried
when that has happened: and it
always is happening to cats’ milk.
They put it into old broken things
that tip over at the least knock, and
then they set them just where they
are sure to be most in the way.
Many’s the time Josiah has knocked
over that blue saucer of mine, in the
shed, and when you have thought
that I had had a nice breakfast of
milk, I had nothing in the world
but flies, which are not good for
much more than just a little sort
of relish I am so glad of a
chance to tell you about this, -
because I know when you come































T had

ge for you.

a dreadful time climbing up over the dasher with them.” — PAGE 33+

‘*T hope you found the horse-chestnuts which I put in the carria:









LETTERS FROM A CAT. 33



home you will get a better dish
for me.

I hope you found the horse-—
chestnuts which I put in the bot-
tom of the carriage for you. I
could not think of any thing else to
put in, which would remind you of
me: but I am afraid you will never
think that it was I who put them
there, and it will be too bad if you
don’t, for I had a dreadful time
climbing up over the dasher with
them, and both my jaws are quite
lame from stretching them so, to
carry the biggest ones I could find.

There are three beautiful dan-
delions out on the terrace, but I













34 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



don't suppose they will keep till
you come home. A man has been
doing something to your garden, but
though I watched him very closely
all the time, I could not make out
what he was about. I am afraid it
is something you will not like; but
if I find out more about it, I will
tell you in my next letter. Good
by.

Your affectionate Pussy.















IT.

My Dear He en:

I do wish that you and your
father would turn around directly,
wherever you are, when you get this
letter, and come home as fast as you
can. If you do not come soon there
will be no home left for you to
come into. I am so frightened and
excited, that my paws tremble, and I
have upset the ink twice, and spilled
so much that there is only a little
left in the bottom of the cup, and









36 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



it is as thick as hasty pudding; so
you must excuse the looks of this
letter, and I will tell you as quickly
as I can about the dreadful state of
things here. Not more than an
hour after I finished my letter to
you, yesterday, I heard a great noise
in the parlor, and ran in to see what
was the matter. There was Mary
with her worst blue handkerchief
tied over her head, her washing-day
gown on, and a big hammer in her
hand. As soon as she saw me, she
said, “There ‘s that cat! Always
in my way, and threw a cricket at
me, and then shut the parlor door
with a great slam. So I ran out















LETTERS FROM A CAT. 37



and listened under the front win-
dows, for I felt sure she was in
some bad business she did not want
to have known. Such a noise I
never heard: all the things were
being moved; and in a few minutes,
what do you think — out came the
whole carpet right on my head! I
was nearly stifled with dust, and felt
as if every bone in my body must
_ be broken; but I managed to creep
out from under it, and heard Mary
say, “If there isn't that torment of
a cat again! I wish to goodness
Helen had taken her along!”
Then I felt surer than ever that
some mischief was on foot; and I











38 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



ran out into the garden, and climbed
up the old apple-tree at the foot of
the steps, and crawled out on a
branch, from which I could look
directly into the parlor windows.
Oh! my dear Helen, you can fancy
how I felt, to see all the chairs and
tables and bookshelves in a pile in
the middle of the floor, the books
all packed in big baskets, and Mary
taking out window after window as
fast as she could. I forgot to tell
you that your mother went away
last night. I think she has gone to
Hadley to make a visit, and it looks.
to me very much as if Mary meant
to run away with every thing which













from which I could

anch

rawled out on a br,

tree, and cr

**T climbed up the old apple

38.

E

— PAG

”

look directly into the parlor windows.













LETTERS FROM A CAT. 39



could be moved, before she comes
back. After awhile that ugly Irish-
woman, who lives in Mr. Slater’s
house, came into the back gate: you
know the one I mean,—the one that
threw cold water on me last spring.
When I saw her coming I felt
sure that she and Mary meant
to kill me, while you were all away ;
so I jumped down out of the tree,
and split my best claw in my hurry,
and ran off into Baker’s Grove, and
stayed there all the rest of the day,
in dreadful misery from cold and
hunger. There was some snow in
the hollows, and I wet my feet, which
always makes me feel wretchedly ;













40 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



and I could not find any thing to
eat except a thin dried-up old mole.
‘They are never good in the spring.
Really, nobody does know what
hard lives we cats lead, even the
luckiest of us! After dark, I went
home; but Mary had fastened up
every door, even the little one into
the back shed. So I had to jump
into the cellar window, which is a
thing I never like to do since I got
that bad sprain in my shoulder from
coming down on the edge of a milk-
pan. I crept up to the head of the
kitchen stairs, as still as a mouse, if
I’m any judge, and listened there
for a long time, to try and make





































if

as still as a mouse,

— PAGE 4o.

“T crept up to the head of the kitchen stairs,

and listened.’*

I’m any judge,











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 41



out, from Mary's talk with the Irish-
woman, what they were planning to
do. But I never could understand
Irish, and although I listened till I
had cramps in all my legs, from
being so long in one position, I was
no wiser. Even the things Mary
said I could not understand, and I
usually understand her very easily.
I passed a very uncomfortable night
in the carrot bin. As soon as I
heard Mary coming down the cellar
stairs, this morning, I hid in the
arch, and while she was skimming
the milk, I slipped upstairs, and ran
into the sitting-room. Every thing
there is in the same confusion; the















42 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



carpet is gone; and the windows too,
and I think some of the chairs have
been carried away. All the china
is in great baskets on the pantry
floor; and your father and mother’s
clothes are all taken out of the nur-
sery closet, and laid on chairs. It
is very dreadful to have to stand by
and see all this, and not be able to
do any thing. I don't think I ever
fully realized before the disadvan-
tage of being only a cat. I have
just been across the street, and
talked it all over with the Judge's |
cat, but she is very old and stupid,
and so taken up with her six kittens
(who are the ugliest I ever saw),











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 43



that she does not take the least in-
terest in her neighbors’ affairs. Mrs.
Hitchcock walked by the house this
morning, and I ran out to her, and
took her dress in my teeth and
pulled it, and did all I could to
make her come in, but she said,
“No, no, pussy, I’m not coming
in to-day; your mistress is not at
home.” I declare I could have
cried. I sat down in the middle
of the path, and never stirred for
half an hour. |

I heard your friend, Hannah
-Dorrance, say yesterday, that she
was going to write to you to-day,
~ so I shall run up the hill now and











44 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



carry my letter to her. I think she
will be astonished when she sees me,
for I am very sure that no other
cat in town knows how to write.
Do come home as soon as possible.

~ Your affectionate Pussy.

PS. Two: men have “just
driven up to the front gate in a
great cart, and they are putting all
the carpets into it. Oh dear, oh
dear, if I only knew what to do!
And I just heard Mary say to
them, “Be as quick as you can, for I
want to get through with this busi-
ness before the folks come back.”















IIT.

My Dear Heten:

I am too stiff and sore from a
terrible fall I have had, to write
more than one line; but I must let
you know that my fright was very
silly, and I am very much mortified
about it. The house and the things
are all safe; your mother has come
home; and I will write, and tell
you all, just as soon as I can use
my pen without great pain.











46 LETTERS FROM A CAT,



Some new people have come
to live in the Nelson house; very
nice people, I think, for they keep
their milk in yellow crockery pans.
They have brought with them a
splendid black cat whose name is
Cesar, and everybody is talking
about him. He has the handsom-
est whiskers I ever saw. I do hope
I shall be well enough to see him
before long, but I wouldn’t have
him see me now for any thing.

Your affectionate Pussy.















aM
i

Hi



my

|
wil

mi lt a ‘ ay :
itt | i A 3
| GE





“ They have brought with them a splendid black cat whose name is Cesar, and everybody is talking
about him. He has the handsomest whiskers I ever saw.’? — PAGE 46.













IV,

My Dear He ten:

~ Phere is°one ‘thing that cats
don’t like any better than men and
women do, and that is to make fools
of themselves. But a precious fool
I made of myself when I wrote you
that long letter about Mary’s mov-
ing out all the furniture, and taking
the house down. It is very mortify-
ing to have to tell you how it all
turned out, but I know you love me











48 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



enough to be sorry that I should
have had such a terrible fright for
nothing.

It went on from bad to worse
for three more days after I wrote
you. Your mother did not come
home; and the awful Irishwoman
was here all the time. I did not
dare to go near the house, and I do
assure you I nearly starved: I used
to lie under the rose-bushes, and
watch as well as I could what was
going on: now and then I caught
a fat in the barn, but that sort. of
hearty food never has agreed with
me since I came to live with you,
and became accustomed to a lighter







LETTERS FROM A CAT. 49



diet. By the third day I felt too
weak and sick to stir: so I lay still
all day on the straw in Charlie's
stall; and I really thought, between
the hunger and the anxiety, that |
should die. About noon I heard
Mary say in the shed, “I do believe
that everlasting cat has taken herself
off: it’s a good riddance anyhow,
but I should like to know what has
become of the plaguy thing!”

I trembled all over, for if she
had come into the barn I know one
kick from her heavy foot would
have killed me, and I was quite too
weak to run away. Towards night
I heard your dear mother’s voice









50 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



calling, “Poor pussy, why, poor
pussy, where are you?”

_>» Je assure you,: my’ dear Flelen;
people are very much mistaken who
say, as I have often overheard them,
that cats have no feeling. If they
could only know how I felt at that
moment, they would change their
minds. I was almost too glad to
make a sound. It seemed to me
that my feet were fastened to the
floor, and that I never could get to
her. She took me up in her arms,
and carried me through the kitchen
into the sitting-room. Mary was
frying cakes in the kitchen, and as
your mother passed by the stove









LETTERS FROM A CAT. 51



she said in her sweet voice, “ You
see I’ve found poor pussy, Mary.”
“Humph,” said Mary, “I never
thought but that she’d be found
fast enough when she wanted to
be!” I knew that this was a lie,
because I had heard what she said
in the shed. I do wish I knew
what makes her hate me so: I
only wish she knew how I hate
her. I really think IJ shall gnaw
her stockings and shoes some night.
It would not be any more than fair;
and she would never suspect me,
there are so many mice in her room,
for I never touch one that I think
belongs in her closet.











52 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



The sitting-room was all in
most beautiful order,-—a smooth
white something, like the side of a
basket, over the whole floor, a beau-
tiful paper curtain, pink and white,
over the fire-place, and white muslin
curtains at the windows. I stood
perfectly still in the middle of the
room for some time. I was too sur-
prised to stir. Oh, how I wished
that I could speak, and tell your
dear mother all that had happened,
and how the room had looked three
days before. Presently she said,
“Poor pussy, I know you are al-
most starved, arent you? and |
said “Yes,” as plainly as I could











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 53



mew it. Then she brought me a
big soup-plate full of thick cream,
and some of the most delicious cold
hash I ever tasted; and after I had
eaten it all, she took me in her lap,
and said, “Poor pussy, we miss
little Helen, don’t we?” and she
held me in her lap till bed-time.
Then she let me sleep on the foot
of her bed: it was one of the hap-
piest nights of my life. In the
middle of the night I was up for
a while, and caught the smallest
mouse I ever saw out of the nest.
Such little ones are very tender.
In. the morning I had *my
breakfast with her in the dining-







;—







54 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



room, which looks just as nice as
the sitting-room. After breakfast
Mrs. Hitchcock came in, and your
mother said: “Only think, how for-
tunate; lam; > Mary did all” the
house-cleaning while I was away.
Every room is in perfect order;
all the woollen clothes are put
away for the summer. Poor pussy,
here, was frightened out of the
house, and I suppose we should
all have been if we had been at
home.”

Can you imagine how ashamed
I felt? I ran under the table and
did not come out again until after

Mrs. Hitchcock had gone. But now

















‘¢Can you imagine how ashamed J felt? I ran under the table and did not come
out again until] after Mrs. Hitchcock had gone.’? — PAGE 54.






















: AWG







































““T knew that there was no time to be lost if I meant to catch that robin, so I
ran with all my might and tried to jump through.’? — PacE 55.











LETTERS. FROM A CAT. 55



comes the saddest part of my story.
Soon after this, as I was looking
out of the window, I saw the fat-
test, most tempting robin on the
ground under the cherry-tree: the
windows did not look as if they
had any glass in them, and I took
it for granted that it had all been
taken out and put away upstairs,
with the andirons and the carpets,
for next winter. I knew that there
was no time to be lost if I meant
to catch that robin, so I ran with
all my might and tried to jump
through. Oh, my dear Helen, I do
not believe you ever had such a
bump: I fell back nearly into the











56 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



middle of the room; and it seemed
to me. that | turned” completely
over at least six times. The blood
streamed out of my nose, and I cut
my right ear very badly against one
of the castors of the table. I could
not see nor hear any thing for some
minutes. When I came to myself,
I found your dear mother holding
me, and wiping my face with her
own nice handkerchief wet in cold
water. My right fore-paw was badly
bruised, and that troubles me very
much about washing my face, and
about writing. But the worst of all
is the condition of my nose. Every-
body laughs who sees me, and I do









LETTERS FROM A CAT. 57



not blame them; it is twice as large
as it used to be, and I begin to be
seriously afraid it will never return
to its old shape. This will be a
dreadful affliction: for who does not
know that the nose is the chief
beauty of a cat's face? I have got
very tired of hearing the story of
my fall told to all the people who
come in. They laugh as if they
would kill themselves at it, espe-
cially when I do not manage to get
under the table before they look to
see how my nose is.

Except for this I should have
written to you before, and would
write more now, but my paw aches









58 LETTERS FROM A CAT.

badly, and one of my eyes is nearly

closed from the swelling of my

nose: so I must say good-by.
Your affectionate Pussy.

P.S. I told you about Cesar,
did I not, in my last letter? Of
course I do not venture out of the
house in my present plight, so I
have not seen him except from the
window.















My Dear HEeEten:

I am sure you must have won-
dered why I have not written to
you for the last two weeks, but
when you hear what I have been
through, you will only wonder that
I am alive to write to you atall. I
was very glad to hear your mother
say, yesterday, that she had not writ-
ten to you about what had happened
to me, because it would make you











60 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



so unhappy. But now that it is all
over, and I am in a fair way to be
soon as well as ever, I think you
will like to hear the whole story.

In my last letter I told you
about the new black cat, Ceesar,
who had come to live in the Nelson
house, and how anxious I was to
know him. As soon as my nose
was fit to be seen, Judge Dickin-
son’s cat, who is a good, hospitable
old soul, in spite of her stupidity,
invited me to tea, and asked him
too. All the other cats were asked
to come later in the evening, and we
had a grand frolic, hunting rats
in the Judge’s great barn. Cazesar















‘Judge Dickinson’s cat, who is a good hospitable old soul, in spite of her stupidity, invited
me to tea, and asked Cazsar too.” — PAGE 60.













“ When there suddenly came down on us a whole pailful of water.”
PAGE 61.









LETTERS FROM A CAT. 61
is certainly the handsomest and most
gentlemanly cat I ever saw. He
paid me great attention: in fact, so
much, that one of those miserable
half-starved cats from Mill Valley
grew so jealous that she flew at me
and bit my ear till it bled, which
broke up the party. But Cesar
went home with me, so I did not
care; then we sat and talked a long
time under the nursery window. |
was so much occupied in. what he
was saying, that I did not hear
Mary open the window overhead,
and was therefore terribly frightened
when there suddenly came down on
us a whole pailful of water. I was







o.







2 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



so startled that I lost all presence of
mind; and without bidding him
good-night, I jumped directly into
the cellar window by which we were
sitting. Oh, my dear Helen, I can
never give you any idea of what fol-
lowed. Instead of coming down as
I expected to on the cabbages, which
were just under that window the
last time I was in the cellar, I found
myself sinking, sinking, into some
horrible soft, slimy, sticky substance,
which in an instant more would
have closed over my head, and suffo-
cated me; but, fortunately, as I sank,
I felt something hard at one side,
and making a great effort, I caught











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 63



on it with my claws. It proved to
be the side of a barrel, and I suc-
ceeded in getting one paw over the
edge of it. There I hung, growing
weaker and weaker every minute,
with this frightful stuff running into
my eyes and ears, and choking me
with its bad smell. I mewed as
loud as I could, which was not very
loud, for whenever I opened my
mouth the stuff trickled into it
off my whiskers; but I called
to Czesar, who stood in great
distress at the window, and ex-
plained to him, as well as I could,
what had happened to me, and
begged him to call as loudly as pos:











64 — LETTERS FROM A CAT.



sible; for if somebody did not come
very soon, and take me out, I should
certainly die. He insisted, at first,
on jumping down to help me him-
self; but I told him that would be
the most foolish thing he could do;
if he did, we should certainly both
be drowned. So he began to mew
at the top of his voice, and between
his mewing and mine, there was
noise enough for a few minutes;
then windows began to open, and |
heard your grandfather swearing
and throwing out a stick of wood
at Czesar; fortunately he was so
near the house that it did not hit
him. At last your grandfather







|
|
|
|
|







LETTERS FROM A CAT. 65



came downstairs, and opened the
back door; and Ceesar was so fright-
ened that he ran away, for which I
have never thought so well of him
since, though we are still very good
friends. When I heard him run-
ning off, and calling back to me,
from a distance, that he was so sorry
he could not help me, my courage
began to fail, and ina moment more,
I should have let go of the edge of
the barrel, and sunk to the bottom;
but luckily your grandfather noticed
that there was something very strange
about my mewing, and opened the
door at the head of — the cellar
stairs, saying, “I do believe the cat











66 LETTERS HROM? ACA,



is in some trouble down _ here.”
Then I made a great effort and
mewed still more piteously. How
I wished I could call out and say,
“Yes, indeed, I am; drowning to
death, in I’m sure I don’t know
what, but something a great deal
worse than water!” However, he
understood me as it was, and came
down with a lamp. As soon as he
saw me, he set the lamp down on
the cellar bottom, and laughed so
that he could hardly move I
thought this was the most cruel
thing I ever heard of. If 1 had
not been, as it were, at death’s door,
I should have laughed at him, too,









LETTERS FROM A CAT. 67



for even with my eyes full of that
dreadful stuff, I could see that he
looked very funny in his red night-
cap, and without his teeth He
called out to Mary, and your mother,
who stood at the head of the stairs,
“Come down, come down; here's
the cat in the soft-soap barrel!” and
then he laughed again, and they
both came down the stairs laughing,
even your dear kind mother, who |
never could have believed would
laugh at any one in such trouble.
They did not seem to know what
to do at first; nobody wanted to
touch me; and I began to be
afraid I should drown while they











68 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



stood looking at me, for I knew
much better than they could how
weak I was from holding on to
the edge of the sbarrel so long.
At last your grandfather swore that
oath of his, —you know the one I
mean, the one he always swears
when he is very sorry for anybody,
—and lifted me out by the nape of
my neck, holding me as far off from
him as he could, for the soft soap
ran off my legs and tail in streams.
He carried me up into the kitchen,
and put me down in the middle of
the floor, and then they all stood
round me, and laughed again, so
loud that they waked up the cook,

























































“ He lifted me out by the nape of my neck, holding me as far off
from him as he could.’? — PAGE 68.













LETTERS FROM A CAT. 69



who came running out of her bed-
room with her tin candlestick and a
chair in her hand, thinking that rob-
bers were breaking in. At last your
dear mother said, “ Poor pussy, it is
too bad to laugh at you, when you
are in such pain’ (I had been think-
ing so for some time) “Mary,
bring the small washtub. The only
thing we can do 1s to wash her.”
When I heard this, I almost
wished they had left me to drown
in the soft soap; for if there 1s any
thing of which I have a mortal
dread, it is water. However, I was |
too weak to resist; and they plunged
me in all over, into the tub full of ice-











70 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



cold water, and Mary began to rub
me with her great rough hands, which,
I assure you, are very different from
yours and your: mother’s. Then
they all laughed again to see the
white lather it made; in two min-
utes the whole tub was as white as
the water under the mill-wheel that
you and I have so often been together
to see. You can imagine how my
eyes smarted. I burnt my paws
once in getting a piece of beefsteak
out of the coals where it had fallen
off the gridiron, but the pain of that
was nothing to this. You will
hardly believe me when I tell you
that they had to empty the tub and















LETIERS FROM A CAT. 71



fill it again ten times before the soap
was all washed out of my fur. By
that time I was so cold and ex-
hausted, that I could not move, and
they began to think I should die.
But your mother rolled me up in
one of your old flannel petticoats,
and made a nice bed for me behind
the stove. By this time even Mary
began to seem sorry for me, though
she was very cross at first, and hurt
me much more than she need to
in’ washing me; now she. said,
“You're nothing but a poor beast
of a cat, to be sure; but it’s mesilf
that would be sorry to have the little
mistress come back, and find ye











72 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



kilt.” So you see your love for
me did me service, even when you
were so far away. I doubt very
much whether they would have ever
taken the trouble to nurse me
through this sickness, except for your
sake. But I must leave the rest for
my next letter... 1 am not. strong
enough yet to write more than two
hours at a time.

Your affectionate Pussy.

















VI.

My Dear He en:

I will begin where I left off in
my last letter.

As you may imagine, I did not
get any sleep that night, not even
so much as a cat’s nap, as people say,
though how cat’s naps differ from
men’s and women’s naps, I don't
know. I shivered all night, and it
hurt me terribly whenever I moved.
Early in the morning your grand-











74 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



father came downstairs, and when
he saw how I looked, he swore
again, that same oath: we all know
very well what: it means when he
swears in that way: it means that
he is going to do all he can for you,
and is so sorry, that he is afraid of
seeming too sorry. Dont you re-
member when you had that big
double tooth pulled out, and he gave
you five dollars, how he swore then ?
Well, he took me up in his arms,
and carried me into the dining-room ;
it was quite cool; there was a nice
wood fire on the hearth, and Mary
was setting the table for breakfast.
He said to her in a very gruff voice,











LETTERS FROM A CAT. a5



=

“Here you, Mary, you go up into
the garret and bring down the
cradle.”

Sick as I was, I could not help
laughing at the sight of her face.
It was enough to make any cat
laugh.

“You don't ever mean to say, sir,
as you re going to put that cat into
the cradle.”

“You do as I tell you,” said he,
in that most awful tone of his, which
always makes you so afraid. I felt
afraid myself, though all the time
he was stroking my head, and saying,
“Poor pussy, there, poor pussy, lie
still” In a few minutes Mary













76 LETIERS PROM A CAT.

f



came down with the cradle, and set
it down by the fire with such a bang
that I wondered it did not break.
You know she always bangs things
when she is cross, but I never could
see what good it does. Then your
grandfather made up a nice bed in
the cradle, out of Charlie's winter
blanket and an old pillow, and laid
me down in it, all rolled up as I was
in your petticoat. When your
mother came into the room she
laughed almost as hard as she did
when she saw me in the soft-soap
barrel, and said, “ Why, father, you
are rather old to play cat's cradle!”
The old gentleman laughed at this,




































= Cea,
SETA ak



‘* Then your grandfather made up a nice bed in the cradle, and laid
me down in it.’? — PAGE 46.















LETTERS FROM A CAT. yy



till the tears ran down his red cheeks.
“Well,” he said, “I tell you one
thing; the game will last me till
that poor cat gets well again.” Then
he went upstairs, and brought down
a bottle of something very soft and
slippery, like lard, and put it on my
eyes, and it made them feel much
better. After that he gave me some
milk into which he had put some
of his very best brandy: that was
pretty hard to get down, but I
understood enough of what they
had said, to be sure that if I did
not take something of the kind I
should never get well. After break-
fast I tried to walk, but my right











78 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



paw was entirely useless. At first
they thought it was broken, but
finally decided that it was only
sprained, and must be bandaged.
The bandages were wet with some-
thing which smelled so badly it
made me feel very sick, for the first
day or two. Cats’ noses are much
more sensitive to smells than people’s
are; but I grew used to it, and it
did my poor lame paw so much
good that I would have borne it if
it had smelled twice as badly. For
three days I had to lie all the time
in the cradle: if your grandfather
caught me out of it, he would swear
at me, and put me back again.











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 79



Every morning he put the soft white
stuff on my eyes, and changed the
bandages on my leg. And, oh, my
dear Helen, such good things as I
had to eat! I had almost the same
things for my dinner that the rest
of them did: it must be a splendid
thing to be a man ora woman! I
do not think I shall ever again be
contented to eat in the shed, and
have only the old Pieces which no-
body wants.

Two things troubled me very
much while I was confined to the
cradle: one was that everybody who
came in to see your mother laughed
as if they never could stop, at the









80 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



first sight of me; and the other was
that I heard poor Czsar mewing
all around the house, and calling me
with all his might; and I knew he
thought I was dead. I tried hard
to make your kind mother notice
his crying, for I knew she would be
willing to let him come in and see
me, but I could not make her under-
stand. I suppose she thought it
was only some common strolling cat
who was hungry. I have always
noticed that people do not observe
any difference between one cat's
voice and another’s; now they really
are just as different as human voices.
Czesar has one of the finest, deepest-





























ee ea i



























‘*One day he slipped in between the legs of the butcher boy, but before I had time to say a
word to him, Mary flew at him with the broom.’’ — PAGE &1.











LETTERS FROM A CAT. 81



toned voices I ever heard. One
day, after I got well enough to be in
the kitchen, he slipped in, between
the legs of the butcher’s boy who
was bringing in some meat; but
before I had time to say one word
to him, Mary flew at him with the
broom, and drove him out. How-
ever, he saw that I was alive, and
that was something. I am afraid
it will be some days yet before I
can see him again, for they do not
let me go out at all, and the band-
ages are. not taken off my. leg.
The cradle is carried upstairs, and
I sleep on Charlie's blanket behind
the stove. I heard your mother











82 LETTERS FROM A CAT.

say to-day that she really believed
the cat had the rheumatism. I[ do
not know what that is, but I think
I have got it: it hurts me all over |
when I walk, and I feel as if I
looked like Bull Jacobs’s old cat,
who, they say, is older than the old-
est man in town; but of course that
must be a slander.

The thing I am most concerned
about is my fur; it is coming off in
spots: there is a bare spot on the
back of my neck, on the place by
which they lifted me up out of the
soap barrel, half as large as your
hand; and whenever I wash my-
self, I get my mouth full of hairs,













LETTERS FROM A CAT. 83



which is very disagreeable. I heard
your grandfather say to-day, that he
believed he would try Mrs. Some-
~body’s Hair Restorer on the cat, at
which everybody laughed so that
I ran out of the room as fast as I
could go, and then they laughed
still harder. J will write you again
in a day or two, and tell you how
I am getting on. I hope you will
come home soon.

Your affectionate Pussy.

| “SI @gm













VII.

My Dear Heten:

I am so glad to know that you
are coming home next week, that
I cannot think of any thing else.
There is only one drawback to my
pleasure; and» that as,” 1. am. so
ashamed to have you see me in such
a plight: 1 told: you, in my last
letter, that my fur was beginning to
come off. Your grandfather has
tried several things of his, which are







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CAT STORIES.



BY

HELEN JACKSON (H. H),

AUTHOR OF “ RAMONA,” ‘‘NELLY’S SILVER MINE,” “BITS OF TALK,’ ETC.

LETTERS FROM A CAT.

MAMMY TITTLEBACK AND HER
FAMILY.

THE HUNTER CATS OF CONNORLOA.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

BOSTON:

ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1895



























© DO not feel wholly
sure that my Pussy
wrote these letters
herself. They al-
ways came inside
the letters written
to me by my mamma, or other friends, and
I never caught Pussy writing at any time

when I was at home; but the printing








6 INTRODUCTION.





was pretty bad, and they were signed by
Pussy’s name; and my mamma always
looked very mysterious when I asked about
them, as if there were some very great
secret about it all; so that until I grew
to be a big girl, I never doubted but that
Pussy printed them all alone by herself,
after dark.

They were written when I was a very
little girl, and was away from home with
my father on a journey. We made this
journey in our own carriage, and it was
one of the pleasantest things that ever
happened to me. My clothes and my
father’s were packed in a little leather

valise which was hung by straps under-








INTRODUCTION. 7



neath the carriage, and went swinging,
swinging, back and forth, as the wheels
went round. My father and I used to
walk up all the steep hills, because old
Charley, our horse, was not very strong ;
and I kept my eyes on that valise all
the while I was walking behind the car-
riage; it seemed to me the most unsafe
way to carry a valise, and I wished very
much that my best dress had been put in
a bundle that I could carry in my lap.
This was the only drawback on the pleas-
ure of my journey,—my fear that the
valise would fall off when we did not know
it, and be left in the road, and then I should

not have anything nice to wear when I








8 INTRODUCTION.



reached my aunt's house. But the valise
went through all safe, and I had the sat-
isfaction of wearing my best dress every
afternoon while I stayed ; and I was foolish
enough to think a great deal of this.

On the fourth day after our arrival came
a letter from my mamma, giving me a
great many directions how to behave, and
enclosing this first letter from Pussy. I
carried both letters in my apron pocket
all the time. They were the first letters
I ever had received, and I was very proud
of them. I showed them to everybody,
and everybody laughed hard at Pussy’s,
and asked me if I believed that Pussy
printed it herself. I thought perhaps my












INTRODUCTION. 9



mamma held her paw, with the pen in it,
as she had sometimes held my hand for
me, and guided my pen to write a few
words. I asked papa to please to ask
mamma, in his letter, if that were the way
Pussy did it; but when his next letter
from mamma came, he read me this sen-
tence: out-of it:- “Vell: Helen I) did: not
hold Pussy’s paw to write that letter.”
So then I felt sure Pussy did it herself;
and as I told you, I had grown up to be
quite a big girl before I began to doubt
it. You see I thought my Pussy such a
wonderful Pussy that nothing was too re-
markable for her to do. I knew very well

that cats generally did not know how to






IO INTRODUCTION.





read or write; but I thought there had
never been such a cat in the world as this
Pussy of mine. It is a great many years
since she digas but I can see her before
me-to-day as plainly as if it were only
yesterday that I had really seen her alive.

She was a little kitten when I first had
her; but she grew fast, and was very soon
bigger than I wanted her to be. I wanted
her to stay little. Her fur was a beautiful
dark gray color, and there were black
stripes ‘on her sides, like the Stripes on a
tiger. Her eyes were very big, and her
ears unusually long and pointed. This
made her look like a fox; and she was so

bright and mischievous that some people




INTRODUCTION. Il



thought she must be part fox. She used
to do one thing that I never heard of any
other cat’s doing: she used to play hide-
and-seek. Did you ever hear of a cat’s
playing hide-and-seek? And the most
wonderful part of it was, that she took it
up of her own accord. As soon as she
heard me shut the gate in the yard at noon,
when school was done, she would run up
the stairs as hard as she could go, and
take her place at the top, where she could
just peep through the banisters. When
I opened the door, she would give a funny
little mew, something like the mew cats
make when they call their kittens. Then

as soon as I stepped on the first stair to










1-2 INTRODUCTION.



come up to her, she would race away at
the top of her speed, and hide under a
bed; and when I reached the room, there
would be no Pussy to be seen. If I called
her, she would come out from under the
bed; but if I left the room, and went down
stairs without speaking, in less than a min-
ute she would fly back to her post at the
head of the stairs, and call again with the
peculiar mew. As soon as I appeared,
off she would run, and hide under the bed
as before. Sometimes she would do this
three or four times; and it was a favorite
amusement of my mother’s to exhibit this
trick of hers to strangers. It was odd,

though; she never would do it twice, when






INTRODUCTION. 13



she observed that other people were watch-
ing. | When I called her, and she came out
from under the bed, if there were strangers
looking on, she would walk straight to me
in the demurest manner, as if it were a
pure accident that she happened to be
under that bed; and no matter what I did
or said, her frolic was over for that day.

She used to follow me, just like a little
dog, wherever I went. She followed me
to school every day, and we had great diff-
culty on Sundays to keep her from follow-
ing us to church. Once she followed me,
when it made a good many people laugh,
in spite of themselves, on an occasion

when it was very improper for them to








Tac INTRODUCTION.



laugh, and they were all feeling very sad.
‘It was at the funeral of one of the profes-
sors in the college.

The professors’ families all sat together ;
and when the time came for them to walk
out of the house and get into the carriages
to go to the graveyard, they were called,
one after the other, by name. When it
came to our turn, my father and mother
went first, arm-in-arm; then my sister and
I; and then, who should rise, very gravely,
but my Pussy, who had slipped into the
room after me, and had not been noticed
in the crowd. With a slow and deliberate
gait she walked along, directly behind my

sister and me, as if she were the remaining








INTRODUCTION. 15



member of the family, as indeed she was.
People began to smile, and as we passed
through the front door, and went down the
steps, some of the men and boys standing
there laughed out. I do not wonder; for
it must have been a very comical sight.
In a second more, somebody sprang for-
ward and snatched Pussy up. Such a
scream as she gave! and scratched his face
with her claws, so that he was glad to put
her down. As soon as I heard her voice,
I turned round, and called her in a low
tone. She ran quickly to me, and I picked
her up and carried her in my arms the rest
of the way. But I saw even my own papa

and mamma laughing a little, for just a










16 INTRODUCTION.



minute. That was the only funeral Pussy
ever attended.

Pussy lived several years after the
events which are related in these
letters.

It was a long time before her fur grew
out again after that terrible fall into the
soft-soap barrel. However, it did grow
out at last, and looked as well as ever.
Nobody would have known that any thing
had been the matter with her, except that
her eyes were always weak. The edges of
them never got quite well; and poor Pussy
used to sit and wash them by the hour;
sometimes mewing and looking up in my

face, with each stroke of her paw on her










INTRODUCTION. 17



eyes, aS much as to say, “ Don't you see
how sore my eyes are? Why don't you
do something for me?”

She was never good for any thing as a
mouser after that accident, nor for very
much to play with. I recollect hearing
my mother say one day to somebody, —
“Pussy was spoiled by her experience in
the cradle. She would like to be rocked
the rest of her days, I do believe; and it
is too funny to see her turn up her nose
at tough beef. It was a pity she ever
got a taste of tenderloin!”

At last, what with good feeding and
very little exercise, she grew so fat that

she was clumsy, and so lazy that she did








18 INTRODUCTION.



not want to do any thing but lie curled up
on a soft cushion.

She had outgrown my little chair, which
had a green moreen cushion in it, on
which she had slept for many a year, and
of which I myself had very little use, — she
was in it so much of the time. But now
that this was too tight for her, she took
possession of the most comfortable places
she could find, all over the house. Now it
was a sofa, now it was an arm-chair, now. it
was the foot of somebody’s bed. But wher-
ever it happened to be, it was sure to be
the precise place where she was in the way,
and the poor thing was tipped headlong

out of chairs, shoved hastily off sofas, and












INTRODUCTION. 19



driven off beds so continually, that at last
she came to understand that when she saw
any person approaching the chair, sofa, or
bed on which she happened to be lying,
the part of wisdom for her was to move
away. And it was very droll to see the
injured and reproachful expression with
which she would slowly get up, stretch all
her legs, and walk away, looking for her
next sleeping-place. Everybody in the
hause, except me, hated the sight of her;
and I had many a pitched battle with the
servants in her behalf. Even my mother,
who was the kindest human being I ever
knew, got out of patience at last, and said

to me one day :—










20 INTRODUCTION.



“Helen, your Pussy has grown so old
and so fat, she is no comfort to herself,
and a great torment to everybody else.
I think it: would be: a mercy. ‘to: kill
her.”

“Kill my Pussy!” I exclaimed, and
burst out crying, so loud and so hard
that I think my mother was frightened;
for she said quickly :—

“Never mind, dear; it shall not be
done, unless it is necessary. You would
not want Pussy to live, if she were very
uncomfortable all the time.”

“She isn’t uncomfortable,” I cried;
“she is only sleepy. If people would

let her alone, she would sleep all day.





sae]






INTRODUCTION. 21



It would be awful to kill her. You might
as well kill me!”

After that, I kept a very close eye on
Pussy; and I carried her up to bed with
me every night for a long time.

But Pussy’s days were numbered.
One morning, before I was up, my mamma
came into my room, and sat down on the
edge of my bed.

“ Helen,’ she said, “I have something
to tell you which will make you feel very
badly; but I hope you will be a good
little girl, and not make mamma unhappy
about it. You know your papa and
mamma always do what they think is

the very best thing.”








22 ' INTRODUCTION.



“What isit. mamma? 1 asked, feel-
ing very much frightened, but never think-
ing of Pussy.

“You will never see your Pussy any
more,” she replied. “She is dead.”

“Oh, where is she?” I cried. “ What
killed her? . Wont she come to life



again?”
‘No, Said: “my. mother; = she= 4s
drowned.”
Then I knew what had happened.
“Who did it?” was all I said.
“Cousin Josiah,’ she replied; “and
he took great care that Pussy. did not
suffer at all. She sank to the bottom

instantly.”



[ee ee ee eee ee






INTRODUCTION.

to
&



“Where did he drown her?” I asked.
“Down by the mill, in Mill Valley,

where the water is very deep,” answered



my mother; “we told him to take her
there.;;

At these words I cried bitterly.



“That ’s the very place I used to go
with her to play,” I exclaimed. “I'll never
go near that bridge as long as [I live, and
I'll never speak a word to Cousin Josiah
either — never !”

My mother tried to comfort me, but
it was of no use; my heart was nearly
broken.

When I went to breakfast, there sat

my cousin Josiah, looking as unconcerned



Gua






24 INTRODUCTION.



as possible, reading a newspaper. He was
a student in the college, and boarded at our
house. At the sight of him all my indigna-
tion and grief broke forth afresh. I began
to cry again; and running up to him, I
doubled up my fist and shook it in his face.

“T said I'd never speak to you as long
as I lived,” I cried; “but I will. You're
just a murderer, a real murderer; that’s
what you are! and when you go to be a
missionary, I hope the cannibals ‘ll eat
you! JI hope they'll eat you alive raw,
you mean old murderer!”

“Helen Maria!” said my father’s voice
behind me, sternly. “Helen Maria! leave

the room this moment!”










INTRODUCTION. 25



I went away sullenly, muttering, “I
don’t care, he is a murderer; and I hope
he ‘ll be drowned, if he isn’t eaten! The
Bible says the same measure ye mete shall
be meted to you again. He ought to be
drowned.”

For this sullen muttering I had to go
without my breakfast; and after break-
fast was over, 1 was made to beg Cousin
Josiah’s pardon; but I did not beg it
in my heart—not a bit—only with my
lips, just repeating the words I was told
to say; and from that time I never spoke
one word to him, nor looked at him, if I
could help it.

My kind mother offered to get another








26 INTRODUCTION.

kitten for me, but I did not want one.
After a while, my sister Ann had a present
of a pretty little gray kitten; but I never
played with it, nor took any notice of it
at all. I was as true to my Pussy as she
was to me; and from that day to this, I

have never had another Pussy!








LETTERS FROM A CAT.

I,
My Dear HE en:

That is what your mother calls
you, I know, for I jumped up on
her writing-table just now, and
looked, while she was out of the
room; and I am sure I have as
much right to call you so as she
has, for if you were my own little
kitty, and looked just like me, I
could not love you any more than






28 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



I do. How many good naps I
have had in your lap! and how
many nice bits of meat you have
saved for me out of your own din-
ner! Oh, 1 il-never det a rat, ora
mouse, touch any thing of yours so
long as I live.

I felt very unhappy after you
drove off yesterday, and did not
know what to do with myself. I
went into the barn, and thought I
would take a nap on the hay, for
I do think going to sleep is one of
the very best things for people who
are unhappy; but it seemed so
lonely without old Charlie stamping
in his stall that I could not bear it,
















fter you drove off yesterday.”

a

“T felt very unhappy

Pace 28.








LETTERS: FROM A-CAT. 29,



so I went into the garden, and lay
down under the damask rose-bush,
and caught flies) There is a kind
of fly round that bush which I like
better than any other I ever ate.
You ought to see that there is a
very great difference between my
catching flies and your doing it. I
have noticed that you never eat
them, and I have wondered that
when you were always so kind to
me you could be so cruel as to kill
poor flies for nothing: I have often
wished that I could speak to you
about it: now that your dear mother
has taught me to print, I shall be
able to say a great many things to










30 ’ LETTERS FROM A CAT.



you which I have often been un-
happy about because I could not
make you understand. I am en-
tirely discouraged about learning to
speak the English language, and I
do not think anybody takes much
trouble to learn ours; so we cats
are confined entirely to the society
of each other, which prevents our
knowing so much as we might; and
it is very lonely too, in a place where
there are so few cats kept as in
Amherst. If it were not for Mrs.
Hitchcock’s cat, and Judge Dickin-
son’s, I should really forget how to
use my tongue. When you are at
home I do not mind it, for although










LETTERS FROM A CAT. 31



I cannot talk to you, I understand
every word that you say to me, and
we have such good plays together
with the red ball. That 1s put away
now in the bottom drawer of the
little workstand in the sitting-room.
When your mother put it in, she
turned round to me, and said, “ Poor
pussy, no more good plays for you
till Helen comes home!” and I
thought I should certainly cry. But
I think it is very foolish to cry over
what cannot be helped, so I pretend-
ed to have got something into my
left eye, and rubbed it with my paw.
- It 1s very seldom that I cry over
any thing, unless it is “spilt milk.”










32 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



I must confess, I have often cried
when that has happened: and it
always is happening to cats’ milk.
They put it into old broken things
that tip over at the least knock, and
then they set them just where they
are sure to be most in the way.
Many’s the time Josiah has knocked
over that blue saucer of mine, in the
shed, and when you have thought
that I had had a nice breakfast of
milk, I had nothing in the world
but flies, which are not good for
much more than just a little sort
of relish I am so glad of a
chance to tell you about this, -
because I know when you come




























T had

ge for you.

a dreadful time climbing up over the dasher with them.” — PAGE 33+

‘*T hope you found the horse-chestnuts which I put in the carria:






LETTERS FROM A CAT. 33



home you will get a better dish
for me.

I hope you found the horse-—
chestnuts which I put in the bot-
tom of the carriage for you. I
could not think of any thing else to
put in, which would remind you of
me: but I am afraid you will never
think that it was I who put them
there, and it will be too bad if you
don’t, for I had a dreadful time
climbing up over the dasher with
them, and both my jaws are quite
lame from stretching them so, to
carry the biggest ones I could find.

There are three beautiful dan-
delions out on the terrace, but I










34 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



don't suppose they will keep till
you come home. A man has been
doing something to your garden, but
though I watched him very closely
all the time, I could not make out
what he was about. I am afraid it
is something you will not like; but
if I find out more about it, I will
tell you in my next letter. Good
by.

Your affectionate Pussy.












IT.

My Dear He en:

I do wish that you and your
father would turn around directly,
wherever you are, when you get this
letter, and come home as fast as you
can. If you do not come soon there
will be no home left for you to
come into. I am so frightened and
excited, that my paws tremble, and I
have upset the ink twice, and spilled
so much that there is only a little
left in the bottom of the cup, and






36 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



it is as thick as hasty pudding; so
you must excuse the looks of this
letter, and I will tell you as quickly
as I can about the dreadful state of
things here. Not more than an
hour after I finished my letter to
you, yesterday, I heard a great noise
in the parlor, and ran in to see what
was the matter. There was Mary
with her worst blue handkerchief
tied over her head, her washing-day
gown on, and a big hammer in her
hand. As soon as she saw me, she
said, “There ‘s that cat! Always
in my way, and threw a cricket at
me, and then shut the parlor door
with a great slam. So I ran out












LETTERS FROM A CAT. 37



and listened under the front win-
dows, for I felt sure she was in
some bad business she did not want
to have known. Such a noise I
never heard: all the things were
being moved; and in a few minutes,
what do you think — out came the
whole carpet right on my head! I
was nearly stifled with dust, and felt
as if every bone in my body must
_ be broken; but I managed to creep
out from under it, and heard Mary
say, “If there isn't that torment of
a cat again! I wish to goodness
Helen had taken her along!”
Then I felt surer than ever that
some mischief was on foot; and I








38 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



ran out into the garden, and climbed
up the old apple-tree at the foot of
the steps, and crawled out on a
branch, from which I could look
directly into the parlor windows.
Oh! my dear Helen, you can fancy
how I felt, to see all the chairs and
tables and bookshelves in a pile in
the middle of the floor, the books
all packed in big baskets, and Mary
taking out window after window as
fast as she could. I forgot to tell
you that your mother went away
last night. I think she has gone to
Hadley to make a visit, and it looks.
to me very much as if Mary meant
to run away with every thing which










from which I could

anch

rawled out on a br,

tree, and cr

**T climbed up the old apple

38.

E

— PAG

”

look directly into the parlor windows.










LETTERS FROM A CAT. 39



could be moved, before she comes
back. After awhile that ugly Irish-
woman, who lives in Mr. Slater’s
house, came into the back gate: you
know the one I mean,—the one that
threw cold water on me last spring.
When I saw her coming I felt
sure that she and Mary meant
to kill me, while you were all away ;
so I jumped down out of the tree,
and split my best claw in my hurry,
and ran off into Baker’s Grove, and
stayed there all the rest of the day,
in dreadful misery from cold and
hunger. There was some snow in
the hollows, and I wet my feet, which
always makes me feel wretchedly ;










40 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



and I could not find any thing to
eat except a thin dried-up old mole.
‘They are never good in the spring.
Really, nobody does know what
hard lives we cats lead, even the
luckiest of us! After dark, I went
home; but Mary had fastened up
every door, even the little one into
the back shed. So I had to jump
into the cellar window, which is a
thing I never like to do since I got
that bad sprain in my shoulder from
coming down on the edge of a milk-
pan. I crept up to the head of the
kitchen stairs, as still as a mouse, if
I’m any judge, and listened there
for a long time, to try and make


































if

as still as a mouse,

— PAGE 4o.

“T crept up to the head of the kitchen stairs,

and listened.’*

I’m any judge,








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 41



out, from Mary's talk with the Irish-
woman, what they were planning to
do. But I never could understand
Irish, and although I listened till I
had cramps in all my legs, from
being so long in one position, I was
no wiser. Even the things Mary
said I could not understand, and I
usually understand her very easily.
I passed a very uncomfortable night
in the carrot bin. As soon as I
heard Mary coming down the cellar
stairs, this morning, I hid in the
arch, and while she was skimming
the milk, I slipped upstairs, and ran
into the sitting-room. Every thing
there is in the same confusion; the












42 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



carpet is gone; and the windows too,
and I think some of the chairs have
been carried away. All the china
is in great baskets on the pantry
floor; and your father and mother’s
clothes are all taken out of the nur-
sery closet, and laid on chairs. It
is very dreadful to have to stand by
and see all this, and not be able to
do any thing. I don't think I ever
fully realized before the disadvan-
tage of being only a cat. I have
just been across the street, and
talked it all over with the Judge's |
cat, but she is very old and stupid,
and so taken up with her six kittens
(who are the ugliest I ever saw),








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 43



that she does not take the least in-
terest in her neighbors’ affairs. Mrs.
Hitchcock walked by the house this
morning, and I ran out to her, and
took her dress in my teeth and
pulled it, and did all I could to
make her come in, but she said,
“No, no, pussy, I’m not coming
in to-day; your mistress is not at
home.” I declare I could have
cried. I sat down in the middle
of the path, and never stirred for
half an hour. |

I heard your friend, Hannah
-Dorrance, say yesterday, that she
was going to write to you to-day,
~ so I shall run up the hill now and








44 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



carry my letter to her. I think she
will be astonished when she sees me,
for I am very sure that no other
cat in town knows how to write.
Do come home as soon as possible.

~ Your affectionate Pussy.

PS. Two: men have “just
driven up to the front gate in a
great cart, and they are putting all
the carpets into it. Oh dear, oh
dear, if I only knew what to do!
And I just heard Mary say to
them, “Be as quick as you can, for I
want to get through with this busi-
ness before the folks come back.”












IIT.

My Dear Heten:

I am too stiff and sore from a
terrible fall I have had, to write
more than one line; but I must let
you know that my fright was very
silly, and I am very much mortified
about it. The house and the things
are all safe; your mother has come
home; and I will write, and tell
you all, just as soon as I can use
my pen without great pain.








46 LETTERS FROM A CAT,



Some new people have come
to live in the Nelson house; very
nice people, I think, for they keep
their milk in yellow crockery pans.
They have brought with them a
splendid black cat whose name is
Cesar, and everybody is talking
about him. He has the handsom-
est whiskers I ever saw. I do hope
I shall be well enough to see him
before long, but I wouldn’t have
him see me now for any thing.

Your affectionate Pussy.












aM
i

Hi



my

|
wil

mi lt a ‘ ay :
itt | i A 3
| GE





“ They have brought with them a splendid black cat whose name is Cesar, and everybody is talking
about him. He has the handsomest whiskers I ever saw.’? — PAGE 46.










IV,

My Dear He ten:

~ Phere is°one ‘thing that cats
don’t like any better than men and
women do, and that is to make fools
of themselves. But a precious fool
I made of myself when I wrote you
that long letter about Mary’s mov-
ing out all the furniture, and taking
the house down. It is very mortify-
ing to have to tell you how it all
turned out, but I know you love me








48 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



enough to be sorry that I should
have had such a terrible fright for
nothing.

It went on from bad to worse
for three more days after I wrote
you. Your mother did not come
home; and the awful Irishwoman
was here all the time. I did not
dare to go near the house, and I do
assure you I nearly starved: I used
to lie under the rose-bushes, and
watch as well as I could what was
going on: now and then I caught
a fat in the barn, but that sort. of
hearty food never has agreed with
me since I came to live with you,
and became accustomed to a lighter




LETTERS FROM A CAT. 49



diet. By the third day I felt too
weak and sick to stir: so I lay still
all day on the straw in Charlie's
stall; and I really thought, between
the hunger and the anxiety, that |
should die. About noon I heard
Mary say in the shed, “I do believe
that everlasting cat has taken herself
off: it’s a good riddance anyhow,
but I should like to know what has
become of the plaguy thing!”

I trembled all over, for if she
had come into the barn I know one
kick from her heavy foot would
have killed me, and I was quite too
weak to run away. Towards night
I heard your dear mother’s voice






50 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



calling, “Poor pussy, why, poor
pussy, where are you?”

_>» Je assure you,: my’ dear Flelen;
people are very much mistaken who
say, as I have often overheard them,
that cats have no feeling. If they
could only know how I felt at that
moment, they would change their
minds. I was almost too glad to
make a sound. It seemed to me
that my feet were fastened to the
floor, and that I never could get to
her. She took me up in her arms,
and carried me through the kitchen
into the sitting-room. Mary was
frying cakes in the kitchen, and as
your mother passed by the stove






LETTERS FROM A CAT. 51



she said in her sweet voice, “ You
see I’ve found poor pussy, Mary.”
“Humph,” said Mary, “I never
thought but that she’d be found
fast enough when she wanted to
be!” I knew that this was a lie,
because I had heard what she said
in the shed. I do wish I knew
what makes her hate me so: I
only wish she knew how I hate
her. I really think IJ shall gnaw
her stockings and shoes some night.
It would not be any more than fair;
and she would never suspect me,
there are so many mice in her room,
for I never touch one that I think
belongs in her closet.








52 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



The sitting-room was all in
most beautiful order,-—a smooth
white something, like the side of a
basket, over the whole floor, a beau-
tiful paper curtain, pink and white,
over the fire-place, and white muslin
curtains at the windows. I stood
perfectly still in the middle of the
room for some time. I was too sur-
prised to stir. Oh, how I wished
that I could speak, and tell your
dear mother all that had happened,
and how the room had looked three
days before. Presently she said,
“Poor pussy, I know you are al-
most starved, arent you? and |
said “Yes,” as plainly as I could








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 53



mew it. Then she brought me a
big soup-plate full of thick cream,
and some of the most delicious cold
hash I ever tasted; and after I had
eaten it all, she took me in her lap,
and said, “Poor pussy, we miss
little Helen, don’t we?” and she
held me in her lap till bed-time.
Then she let me sleep on the foot
of her bed: it was one of the hap-
piest nights of my life. In the
middle of the night I was up for
a while, and caught the smallest
mouse I ever saw out of the nest.
Such little ones are very tender.
In. the morning I had *my
breakfast with her in the dining-




;—







54 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



room, which looks just as nice as
the sitting-room. After breakfast
Mrs. Hitchcock came in, and your
mother said: “Only think, how for-
tunate; lam; > Mary did all” the
house-cleaning while I was away.
Every room is in perfect order;
all the woollen clothes are put
away for the summer. Poor pussy,
here, was frightened out of the
house, and I suppose we should
all have been if we had been at
home.”

Can you imagine how ashamed
I felt? I ran under the table and
did not come out again until after

Mrs. Hitchcock had gone. But now














‘¢Can you imagine how ashamed J felt? I ran under the table and did not come
out again until] after Mrs. Hitchcock had gone.’? — PAGE 54.



















: AWG







































““T knew that there was no time to be lost if I meant to catch that robin, so I
ran with all my might and tried to jump through.’? — PacE 55.








LETTERS. FROM A CAT. 55



comes the saddest part of my story.
Soon after this, as I was looking
out of the window, I saw the fat-
test, most tempting robin on the
ground under the cherry-tree: the
windows did not look as if they
had any glass in them, and I took
it for granted that it had all been
taken out and put away upstairs,
with the andirons and the carpets,
for next winter. I knew that there
was no time to be lost if I meant
to catch that robin, so I ran with
all my might and tried to jump
through. Oh, my dear Helen, I do
not believe you ever had such a
bump: I fell back nearly into the








56 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



middle of the room; and it seemed
to me. that | turned” completely
over at least six times. The blood
streamed out of my nose, and I cut
my right ear very badly against one
of the castors of the table. I could
not see nor hear any thing for some
minutes. When I came to myself,
I found your dear mother holding
me, and wiping my face with her
own nice handkerchief wet in cold
water. My right fore-paw was badly
bruised, and that troubles me very
much about washing my face, and
about writing. But the worst of all
is the condition of my nose. Every-
body laughs who sees me, and I do






LETTERS FROM A CAT. 57



not blame them; it is twice as large
as it used to be, and I begin to be
seriously afraid it will never return
to its old shape. This will be a
dreadful affliction: for who does not
know that the nose is the chief
beauty of a cat's face? I have got
very tired of hearing the story of
my fall told to all the people who
come in. They laugh as if they
would kill themselves at it, espe-
cially when I do not manage to get
under the table before they look to
see how my nose is.

Except for this I should have
written to you before, and would
write more now, but my paw aches






58 LETTERS FROM A CAT.

badly, and one of my eyes is nearly

closed from the swelling of my

nose: so I must say good-by.
Your affectionate Pussy.

P.S. I told you about Cesar,
did I not, in my last letter? Of
course I do not venture out of the
house in my present plight, so I
have not seen him except from the
window.












My Dear HEeEten:

I am sure you must have won-
dered why I have not written to
you for the last two weeks, but
when you hear what I have been
through, you will only wonder that
I am alive to write to you atall. I
was very glad to hear your mother
say, yesterday, that she had not writ-
ten to you about what had happened
to me, because it would make you








60 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



so unhappy. But now that it is all
over, and I am in a fair way to be
soon as well as ever, I think you
will like to hear the whole story.

In my last letter I told you
about the new black cat, Ceesar,
who had come to live in the Nelson
house, and how anxious I was to
know him. As soon as my nose
was fit to be seen, Judge Dickin-
son’s cat, who is a good, hospitable
old soul, in spite of her stupidity,
invited me to tea, and asked him
too. All the other cats were asked
to come later in the evening, and we
had a grand frolic, hunting rats
in the Judge’s great barn. Cazesar












‘Judge Dickinson’s cat, who is a good hospitable old soul, in spite of her stupidity, invited
me to tea, and asked Cazsar too.” — PAGE 60.










“ When there suddenly came down on us a whole pailful of water.”
PAGE 61.






LETTERS FROM A CAT. 61
is certainly the handsomest and most
gentlemanly cat I ever saw. He
paid me great attention: in fact, so
much, that one of those miserable
half-starved cats from Mill Valley
grew so jealous that she flew at me
and bit my ear till it bled, which
broke up the party. But Cesar
went home with me, so I did not
care; then we sat and talked a long
time under the nursery window. |
was so much occupied in. what he
was saying, that I did not hear
Mary open the window overhead,
and was therefore terribly frightened
when there suddenly came down on
us a whole pailful of water. I was




o.







2 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



so startled that I lost all presence of
mind; and without bidding him
good-night, I jumped directly into
the cellar window by which we were
sitting. Oh, my dear Helen, I can
never give you any idea of what fol-
lowed. Instead of coming down as
I expected to on the cabbages, which
were just under that window the
last time I was in the cellar, I found
myself sinking, sinking, into some
horrible soft, slimy, sticky substance,
which in an instant more would
have closed over my head, and suffo-
cated me; but, fortunately, as I sank,
I felt something hard at one side,
and making a great effort, I caught








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 63



on it with my claws. It proved to
be the side of a barrel, and I suc-
ceeded in getting one paw over the
edge of it. There I hung, growing
weaker and weaker every minute,
with this frightful stuff running into
my eyes and ears, and choking me
with its bad smell. I mewed as
loud as I could, which was not very
loud, for whenever I opened my
mouth the stuff trickled into it
off my whiskers; but I called
to Czesar, who stood in great
distress at the window, and ex-
plained to him, as well as I could,
what had happened to me, and
begged him to call as loudly as pos:








64 — LETTERS FROM A CAT.



sible; for if somebody did not come
very soon, and take me out, I should
certainly die. He insisted, at first,
on jumping down to help me him-
self; but I told him that would be
the most foolish thing he could do;
if he did, we should certainly both
be drowned. So he began to mew
at the top of his voice, and between
his mewing and mine, there was
noise enough for a few minutes;
then windows began to open, and |
heard your grandfather swearing
and throwing out a stick of wood
at Czesar; fortunately he was so
near the house that it did not hit
him. At last your grandfather







|
|
|
|
|




LETTERS FROM A CAT. 65



came downstairs, and opened the
back door; and Ceesar was so fright-
ened that he ran away, for which I
have never thought so well of him
since, though we are still very good
friends. When I heard him run-
ning off, and calling back to me,
from a distance, that he was so sorry
he could not help me, my courage
began to fail, and ina moment more,
I should have let go of the edge of
the barrel, and sunk to the bottom;
but luckily your grandfather noticed
that there was something very strange
about my mewing, and opened the
door at the head of — the cellar
stairs, saying, “I do believe the cat








66 LETTERS HROM? ACA,



is in some trouble down _ here.”
Then I made a great effort and
mewed still more piteously. How
I wished I could call out and say,
“Yes, indeed, I am; drowning to
death, in I’m sure I don’t know
what, but something a great deal
worse than water!” However, he
understood me as it was, and came
down with a lamp. As soon as he
saw me, he set the lamp down on
the cellar bottom, and laughed so
that he could hardly move I
thought this was the most cruel
thing I ever heard of. If 1 had
not been, as it were, at death’s door,
I should have laughed at him, too,






LETTERS FROM A CAT. 67



for even with my eyes full of that
dreadful stuff, I could see that he
looked very funny in his red night-
cap, and without his teeth He
called out to Mary, and your mother,
who stood at the head of the stairs,
“Come down, come down; here's
the cat in the soft-soap barrel!” and
then he laughed again, and they
both came down the stairs laughing,
even your dear kind mother, who |
never could have believed would
laugh at any one in such trouble.
They did not seem to know what
to do at first; nobody wanted to
touch me; and I began to be
afraid I should drown while they








68 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



stood looking at me, for I knew
much better than they could how
weak I was from holding on to
the edge of the sbarrel so long.
At last your grandfather swore that
oath of his, —you know the one I
mean, the one he always swears
when he is very sorry for anybody,
—and lifted me out by the nape of
my neck, holding me as far off from
him as he could, for the soft soap
ran off my legs and tail in streams.
He carried me up into the kitchen,
and put me down in the middle of
the floor, and then they all stood
round me, and laughed again, so
loud that they waked up the cook,






















































“ He lifted me out by the nape of my neck, holding me as far off
from him as he could.’? — PAGE 68.










LETTERS FROM A CAT. 69



who came running out of her bed-
room with her tin candlestick and a
chair in her hand, thinking that rob-
bers were breaking in. At last your
dear mother said, “ Poor pussy, it is
too bad to laugh at you, when you
are in such pain’ (I had been think-
ing so for some time) “Mary,
bring the small washtub. The only
thing we can do 1s to wash her.”
When I heard this, I almost
wished they had left me to drown
in the soft soap; for if there 1s any
thing of which I have a mortal
dread, it is water. However, I was |
too weak to resist; and they plunged
me in all over, into the tub full of ice-








70 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



cold water, and Mary began to rub
me with her great rough hands, which,
I assure you, are very different from
yours and your: mother’s. Then
they all laughed again to see the
white lather it made; in two min-
utes the whole tub was as white as
the water under the mill-wheel that
you and I have so often been together
to see. You can imagine how my
eyes smarted. I burnt my paws
once in getting a piece of beefsteak
out of the coals where it had fallen
off the gridiron, but the pain of that
was nothing to this. You will
hardly believe me when I tell you
that they had to empty the tub and












LETIERS FROM A CAT. 71



fill it again ten times before the soap
was all washed out of my fur. By
that time I was so cold and ex-
hausted, that I could not move, and
they began to think I should die.
But your mother rolled me up in
one of your old flannel petticoats,
and made a nice bed for me behind
the stove. By this time even Mary
began to seem sorry for me, though
she was very cross at first, and hurt
me much more than she need to
in’ washing me; now she. said,
“You're nothing but a poor beast
of a cat, to be sure; but it’s mesilf
that would be sorry to have the little
mistress come back, and find ye








72 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



kilt.” So you see your love for
me did me service, even when you
were so far away. I doubt very
much whether they would have ever
taken the trouble to nurse me
through this sickness, except for your
sake. But I must leave the rest for
my next letter... 1 am not. strong
enough yet to write more than two
hours at a time.

Your affectionate Pussy.














VI.

My Dear He en:

I will begin where I left off in
my last letter.

As you may imagine, I did not
get any sleep that night, not even
so much as a cat’s nap, as people say,
though how cat’s naps differ from
men’s and women’s naps, I don't
know. I shivered all night, and it
hurt me terribly whenever I moved.
Early in the morning your grand-








74 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



father came downstairs, and when
he saw how I looked, he swore
again, that same oath: we all know
very well what: it means when he
swears in that way: it means that
he is going to do all he can for you,
and is so sorry, that he is afraid of
seeming too sorry. Dont you re-
member when you had that big
double tooth pulled out, and he gave
you five dollars, how he swore then ?
Well, he took me up in his arms,
and carried me into the dining-room ;
it was quite cool; there was a nice
wood fire on the hearth, and Mary
was setting the table for breakfast.
He said to her in a very gruff voice,








LETTERS FROM A CAT. a5



=

“Here you, Mary, you go up into
the garret and bring down the
cradle.”

Sick as I was, I could not help
laughing at the sight of her face.
It was enough to make any cat
laugh.

“You don't ever mean to say, sir,
as you re going to put that cat into
the cradle.”

“You do as I tell you,” said he,
in that most awful tone of his, which
always makes you so afraid. I felt
afraid myself, though all the time
he was stroking my head, and saying,
“Poor pussy, there, poor pussy, lie
still” In a few minutes Mary










76 LETIERS PROM A CAT.

f



came down with the cradle, and set
it down by the fire with such a bang
that I wondered it did not break.
You know she always bangs things
when she is cross, but I never could
see what good it does. Then your
grandfather made up a nice bed in
the cradle, out of Charlie's winter
blanket and an old pillow, and laid
me down in it, all rolled up as I was
in your petticoat. When your
mother came into the room she
laughed almost as hard as she did
when she saw me in the soft-soap
barrel, and said, “ Why, father, you
are rather old to play cat's cradle!”
The old gentleman laughed at this,

































= Cea,
SETA ak



‘* Then your grandfather made up a nice bed in the cradle, and laid
me down in it.’? — PAGE 46.












LETTERS FROM A CAT. yy



till the tears ran down his red cheeks.
“Well,” he said, “I tell you one
thing; the game will last me till
that poor cat gets well again.” Then
he went upstairs, and brought down
a bottle of something very soft and
slippery, like lard, and put it on my
eyes, and it made them feel much
better. After that he gave me some
milk into which he had put some
of his very best brandy: that was
pretty hard to get down, but I
understood enough of what they
had said, to be sure that if I did
not take something of the kind I
should never get well. After break-
fast I tried to walk, but my right








78 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



paw was entirely useless. At first
they thought it was broken, but
finally decided that it was only
sprained, and must be bandaged.
The bandages were wet with some-
thing which smelled so badly it
made me feel very sick, for the first
day or two. Cats’ noses are much
more sensitive to smells than people’s
are; but I grew used to it, and it
did my poor lame paw so much
good that I would have borne it if
it had smelled twice as badly. For
three days I had to lie all the time
in the cradle: if your grandfather
caught me out of it, he would swear
at me, and put me back again.








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 79



Every morning he put the soft white
stuff on my eyes, and changed the
bandages on my leg. And, oh, my
dear Helen, such good things as I
had to eat! I had almost the same
things for my dinner that the rest
of them did: it must be a splendid
thing to be a man ora woman! I
do not think I shall ever again be
contented to eat in the shed, and
have only the old Pieces which no-
body wants.

Two things troubled me very
much while I was confined to the
cradle: one was that everybody who
came in to see your mother laughed
as if they never could stop, at the






80 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



first sight of me; and the other was
that I heard poor Czsar mewing
all around the house, and calling me
with all his might; and I knew he
thought I was dead. I tried hard
to make your kind mother notice
his crying, for I knew she would be
willing to let him come in and see
me, but I could not make her under-
stand. I suppose she thought it
was only some common strolling cat
who was hungry. I have always
noticed that people do not observe
any difference between one cat's
voice and another’s; now they really
are just as different as human voices.
Czesar has one of the finest, deepest-


























ee ea i



























‘*One day he slipped in between the legs of the butcher boy, but before I had time to say a
word to him, Mary flew at him with the broom.’’ — PAGE &1.








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 81



toned voices I ever heard. One
day, after I got well enough to be in
the kitchen, he slipped in, between
the legs of the butcher’s boy who
was bringing in some meat; but
before I had time to say one word
to him, Mary flew at him with the
broom, and drove him out. How-
ever, he saw that I was alive, and
that was something. I am afraid
it will be some days yet before I
can see him again, for they do not
let me go out at all, and the band-
ages are. not taken off my. leg.
The cradle is carried upstairs, and
I sleep on Charlie's blanket behind
the stove. I heard your mother








82 LETTERS FROM A CAT.

say to-day that she really believed
the cat had the rheumatism. I[ do
not know what that is, but I think
I have got it: it hurts me all over |
when I walk, and I feel as if I
looked like Bull Jacobs’s old cat,
who, they say, is older than the old-
est man in town; but of course that
must be a slander.

The thing I am most concerned
about is my fur; it is coming off in
spots: there is a bare spot on the
back of my neck, on the place by
which they lifted me up out of the
soap barrel, half as large as your
hand; and whenever I wash my-
self, I get my mouth full of hairs,










LETTERS FROM A CAT. 83



which is very disagreeable. I heard
your grandfather say to-day, that he
believed he would try Mrs. Some-
~body’s Hair Restorer on the cat, at
which everybody laughed so that
I ran out of the room as fast as I
could go, and then they laughed
still harder. J will write you again
in a day or two, and tell you how
I am getting on. I hope you will
come home soon.

Your affectionate Pussy.

| “SI @gm










VII.

My Dear Heten:

I am so glad to know that you
are coming home next week, that
I cannot think of any thing else.
There is only one drawback to my
pleasure; and» that as,” 1. am. so
ashamed to have you see me in such
a plight: 1 told: you, in my last
letter, that my fur was beginning to
come off. Your grandfather has
tried several things of his, which are








LETTERS FROM A CAT. 85



said to be good for hair; but
they have not had the least effect.
For my part I don't see why they
should; fur and hair are two very
different things, and I thought at
the outset there was no use in put-
ting on my skin what was intended
for the skin of human heads, and
even on them don't seem to work
any great wonders, if I can judge
from your grandfather's head, which
you know is as bald and pink and
shiny as a babys. However, he
has been so good to me, that I let
him do any thing he likes, and every
day he rubs in some new kind of
stuff, which smells a little worse








&6 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



than the last one. It is utterly im-
possible for me to get within half a
mile of a rat or a mouse. I might
as well fire off a gun to let them
know I am coming, as to go about
scented up so that they can smell
me a great deal farther off than they
can see me. If it were not for this
dreadful state of my fur, I should
be perfectly happy, for I feel much
better than I ever did before in my
whole life, and am twice as fat as
when you went away. I try to be
resigned to whatever may be in store
for me, but it is very hard to look
forward to being a fright all the rest
of one’s days. I don't suppose such








LETTERS FROM A CAT, 87

a thing was ever seen in the world
as a cat without any fur. This
morning your grandfather sat look-
ing at me for a long time and strok-
ing his chin: at last he said, “ Do
you suppose it would do any good
to shave the cat all over?” At this
I could not resist the impulse to
scream, and your mother said, “ IJ
do believe the creature knows when-
ever we speak about her.” Of
course I do! Why in the world
shouldn't I! People never seem to
observe that cats have ears. I often
think how much more careful they
would be if they did. I have

laughed many a time to see them






88 LETTERS FROM A CAT.



send children out of the room, and
leave me behind, when I knew per-
fectly well that the children would
neither notice nor understand half
so much as I would. There are
some houses in which I _ lived,
before I came to live with you,
about which I could tell strange



stories 1f I chose.

Czesar pretends that he likes the
looks of little spots of pink skin,
here and there, in fur; but I know
he only does it to save my feelings,
for it isn’t in human nature—I mean
in cat’s nature—that any one should.
You see I spend so much more
time in the society of men and wo-






MAMMY TITTLEBACK

AND HER FAMILY.




Johnny spent hours and hours reading the letters over to the kittens.’ — PacE 38.








MAMMY TITTLEBACK

AND

HER FAMILY.

A TRUE STORY OF SEVENTEEN CATS.

By H. H,,

AUTHOR OF “BITS OF TALK,” “BITS OF TRAVEL,” “BITS OF TALK FOR YOUNG
FOLKS,” “ NELLY’S SILVER MINE,’ AND “LETTERS FROM A CAT.”

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADDIE LEDYARD.

BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.

1897. |




Copyright, 1881,
By RoBERtTSs BROTHERS.
PREFACE.

Tue Preface is at the end of the book,

and nobody must read it till after reading



the book. It will spoil all the fun to read

it first. H. H.
eee
Seay es

Sree hone:

Svein

22: eee


Genealogical Cree

OF

MAMMY TITTLEBACK’S FAMILY.



I.
MAMMY TITTLEBACK.

IL.
UNIPER. :
J : Mammy TIrrLeBAcx’s first kittens.
MousIEWARY,
Ill.
SPITFIRE,
BLacky,
CoaLey, Mammy TITrLEeBack’s second family
Limpat, of kittens.
LILty,
GREGORY 2p,
IV.

TOTTONTAIL’S
Brother,

(sometimes called

GRANDFATHER),

Mammy TITTLEBACK’s adopted kittens.



Vv.

Mammy TirrLepack’s first grandkit-
tens, being the first kittens of
MOousIEWARY.

BEAUTY,
CLOVER,

TOTTONTAIL, }

eatioes









MAMMY. TITTLEBACK
AND HER FAMILY.

——_0$9300——

I.

Mammy TittLepack is a splen-
did great tortoise-shell cat,— yellow
and black and white; nearly equal
parts of each color, except on
her tail and her face. Her tail is
all black; and her face is white,
with only a little black and yel-

low about the ears and eyes. Her
face is a very kind-looking face, but













MAMMY TITTLEBACK

her tail is a fierce one; and when she
is angry, she can swell it up in a min-
ute, till it looks almost as big as her
body.

Nobody knows where Mammy
Tittleback was born, or where she
came from. She appeared one morn-
ing at Mr. Frank Wellington’s, in the
town of Mendon in Pennsylvania.
Phil and Fred Wellington, Mr.
Frank Wellington’s boys, liked her
looks, and invited her to stay; that
is, they gave her all the milk she
wanted to drink, and that is the best
way to make a cat understand that
you want her to live with you. So

she stayed, and Phil and Fred named


AND HER FAMILY. Il



her Mammy Tittleback after a cat
they had read about in the “ New
York Tribune.”

Phil and Fred have two cousins
who often go to visit them. Their
names are Johnny and Rosy Chap-
man; and if it had not been for
Johnny and Rosy Chapman, there
would never have been this nice story
to tell about Mammy Tittleback : for
Phil and Fred are big boys, and do
not care very much about cats; they
like to see them around, and to make
them comfortable; but Johnny and
Rosy are quite different. Johnny is
only eight and Rosy six, and they
love cats and kittens better than any-


12 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

thing else in the world; and when
they went to spend this last summer
at their Uncle Frank Wellington’s,
and found Mammy Tittleback with
six little kittens, just born, they
thought such a piece of luck never
had happened before to two chil-
dren.

Juniper and Mousiewary had been
born the year before. Phil named
these. Juniper was a splendid great
fellow, nearly all white. At first he
was called “Junior,” but'they changed
it afterward to “ Juniper,” because, as
Phil said, they did n't know what his

father’s name was, and there was n’t

any sense in calling him “Junior,” |




eee ee eee eR Aa Gina ee ee
AND HER FAMILY. 13

and, besides, “Juniper” sounded
better.

Mousiewary was white, witha black
and yellow head. Phil called her
“ Mousiewary” because she would lie
still so long watching for a mouse.
She was a year and a half old when
Johnny and Rosy went to their Uncle
Frank’s for this visit, and she had
two little kittens of her own that
could just run about. They were
wild little things, and very fierce, so
Phil had called them the Imps. But
Johnny and Rosy soon got them so
tame that this name did not suit them
any longer, and then they named them
over again “ Beauty” and “ Clover.”






14 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

Mammy Tittleback’s second fam-
ily of kittens were born in the barn,
on the hay. After awhile she moved
them into an old wagon that was not
used. This was very clever of her,
because they could not get out of the
wagon and runaway. But pretty soon
she moved them again, to a place
which the children did not approve
of at all; it was a sort of hollow in
the ground, under a great pile of fence
rails that were lying near the cow-
shed.

This did not seem a nice place,
and the children could not imagine
why she moved them there. I think,
myself, she moved them to try and










a

ve

“ After a while she moved them into an old wagon that was not used.” — PaGE 14.




AND HER FAMILY. 15

hide them away from the children.
I don't believe she thought it was
good for the kittens to be picked up
so many times a day, and handled,
and kissed, and talked to. I dare
say she thought they’d never have a
chance to grow if she could n’t hide
them away from Johnny and Rosy
for a few weeks. You see, Johnny
and Rosy never left them alone for
half a day. They were always carry-
ing them about. When people came
to the house to see their Aunt Mary,
the children would cry, “Don’t you
want to see our six kittens? We'll
bring them in to you.” Then they

would run out to the barn, take a










16 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

baskeG fill it~halt. full ot: hay, and
very gently lay all the kittens in it,
and Johnny would take one handle
and Rosy the other, and bring it to
the house. They always put Mammy
Tittleback in too; but before they had
carried her far, she generally jumped
out, and walked the rest of the way
by their side. She would never leave
them a minute till they had carried
the kittens safe back again to their
nest. She did not try to prevent
their taking them, for she knew that
neither Johnny nor Rosy would hurt
one of them any more than she would;
but I have no doubt in her heart she
disliked to have the kittens touched.






“Johnny would take one handle, and Rosy the other, and bring it to the

house.”” — PAGE 16.

|






AND HER FAMILY. 17 J

The children worried a great deal
about this last place that Mammy
Tittleback had selected for her nur-
sery. They thought it was damp;
and they were afraid the rails would



fall down some day and crush the
poor little kittens to death; and what
was worst of all, very often when they
went there to look at them, they could
not get any good sight of them at all,
they would be so far in among the
rails.

At last a bright idea struck Johnny.
He said he would build a nice house
for them.

“You can't,” said Rosy.

“Tcan too,’ said Johnny. “’T won't

2








18 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

be a house such as folks live in, but
it ‘Ill do for cats.”

“Will it be as nice as a dog’s
house, Johnny 2” asked Rosy.

‘“Nieer,. said “Johnny :. “that ts,
it ‘Il be prettier. ’T’won’t be so close.
Cats don’t need it so close; but it ’Il
be prettier. It’s going to have flags
On ity

“Flags! O Johnny!” exclaimed
Rosy. “That'll be splendid; but
we haven't got any flags.” |

“I know where I can get as many
as I want,” said Johnny,—‘ down to
the club-room. They give flags to

boys there.”
“What for, Johnny?” asked Rosy.








AND HER FAMILY. 19

_ “Qh, just to carry,” replied Johnny
proudly. “They like to have boys
carrying their flags round.”

“Do you suppose they'll like to
have them on a cat’s house?” asked
Rosy.

“Why not?” said Johnny; and
Rosy did not know what to say.

Very hard Johnny worked on the
house; and it was a queer-looking
house when it was done, but it was
the only one I ever heard of that was
built on purpose for cats. It was
about eight feet square; the central
support of it was an old saw-horse
turned up endwise, with a mason’s
trestle on top; the roof was made of






20 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

old rails, and had two slopes to it,
like real houses’ roofs; the sides
were uneven, because on one side the
rails rested on an old pig-trough, and
on the other on a wooden trestle
which was higher than the trough.
This unevenness troubled Johnny,
but it really made the house prettier.
The space under this roof was di-
vided by rows of small stakes into
three compartments, — one large one
for Mammy Tittleback and her six
youngest kittens; Mousiewary and
her two kittens in another smaller

room; and the adopted kittens and
Juniper inathird. J have n't told you
yet about the adopted kittens, but I






AND HER FAMILY. 21

will presently. These three rooms
had each a tin pan set in the middle,
and fixed firm in its place by small
stakes driven into the ground around
it. Johnny was determined to teach
the cats to keep in their own rooms,
and that each family must eat by
itself. It was n't so hard to bring
this about as you would have sup-
posed, because Johnny and Rosy
spent nearly all their time with the
cats, and every time any cat or kitten
stepped over the little wall of stakes
into the apartment of another family,
it was very gently lifted up and put
back again into its own room, and
stroked and told in gentle voice, —




22 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

“Stay in your own room, kitty.”

And at meal-times there was very
little trouble, after the first few days,
with anybody but Juniper. All the

rest learned very soon which milk-



pan belonged to them, and would run
straight to it, as soon as Johnny called
them. But Juniper was an_ inde-
pendent cat; and he persisted in
walking about from room to room,
pretty much as he pleased. You see
he was the only unemployed cat in
the set. Mammy Tittleback had her
hands full—I suppose you ought to
say paws full when you are speaking
of cats,— with six kittens of her own
and two adopted ones; and Mousie-

US a oe


AND HER FAMILY. 23



wary was just as busy with her two
kittens asif she had had ten; but
Juniper had nobody to look after
except himself. He was a lazy cat
too. He always used to walk slowly
to his meals. The rest would all be
running and jumping in their hurry
to get to the house when Johnny and
Rosy called them; but Juniper would
come marching along as slowly as if
he were in no sort of hurry, in fact,
as if he did n't care whether he had
anything to eat or not. But once he
got to the pan he would drink fully
his share, and more too.






Now I must tell you about the
adopted kittens. They belonged to
a wild cat who lived in the garden.
Nobody knew anything about this
cat. She was a kind of a beggar and
thief cat, Johnny said. She would n't
let you take care of her, or get near
her; and the only reason she took up
her abode in the garden with her kit-
tens was so as to be near the milk-
house, and have a chance now and




then to steal milk out of the great ket-
tles. One day the children found the
poor thing dead in the chicken yard.
What killed her there was nothing to
show, but dead she was, and no mis-
take; so the children carried her away
- and buried her, and then went to look
for her little kittens. There were four
of them, and the poor little things were
half dead from hunger. Their mother
must have been dead some time be-
fore the children found her. They
were too young to be fed, and the
only chance for saving their lives was
to get Mammy Tittleback to adopt
them. |

“She’s got an awful big family




——
26 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

now,” said Phil, “but we might try
her.”

“She won’t know but they ’re her
own, if we don’t let them all suck at



once,’ said Johnny; “but it would n't

be fair to cheat her that way.”
“Won't know!” said Phil. “ That’s

all you know about cats! She'll





know they ain’t hers as quick as she
sees them.”

It was a very droll sight to see
Mammy Tittleback when the strange
kittens were put down by her side.
She was half asleep, and some of her
own kittens had gone to sleep sucking
their dinners; but the instant these

poor famished little things were put




AND HER FAMILY. 27

down by her, two of them began to
suck as if they had never had any-
thing to eat before, since they were
born. Mammy Tittleback opened
her eyes, and jumped up so quick
she knocked all the kittens head
over heels into a heap. Then she
began smelling at kitten after kit-



ten, and licking her own as she
smelled them, till she came to the
strangers, when she growled a little,
_and sniffed and sniffed; if cats could
turn up their noses, she ‘d have turned
up hers, but as she could n't she only
growled and pushed them with her
paw, and looked at them, all the time



sniffing contemptuously. Johnny
(a
28 MAMMY TITTLEBACK :
and Rosy were nearly ready to
cry.’

“Ts she ‘dopting em ?” whispered
Rosy. ! :

“ Keep still, can't you!” said Phil;
“don't interrupt her. Let her do as
she wants to.” ,

The children held their breaths
and watched. It looked very discour-
aging. Mammy Tittleback walked



round and round, looking much per-
plexed and not at all pleased. One
minute she would stand still and
stare at the pile of kittens, as if she
did not know what to make of it;
then she would fall to smelling and
licking her own. At last, by mistake








“Mammy Tittleback walked round and round, looking much perplexed and not
at all pleased.’? — PAGE 28,

|




AND HER FAMILY. 29

perhaps, she gave a little lick to one
of the orphans.

“Qh, oh,” screamed Johnny, “she’s
going to, she’s licked it;” at which
Phil gave Johnny a great shake, and
‘told him to be quiet or he’d spoil
everything. Presently Mammy Tit-
tleback lay down again and stretched
herself out, and in less than a minute -
all six of her own kittens and the two
strongest of the strangers were suck-

ing away as hard as ever they could.

The children jumped for joy; but
their joy was dampened by the sight
of the other two feeble little kittens,
who lay quite still and did not try to
crowd in among the rest.


Neen EEEEIIEEIEIEEEIEE EDD
30 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



“ Are they dead?” asked Rosy.

“No,” said Johnny, picking them
up, —“no; but I guess they will die
pretty soon, they don't maow.” And
he laid them down very gently close
in between Mammy _ Tittleback’s
hind legs.

“Well, they might as well,” re-
marked Phil. “Eight kittens are
enough. Mammy Tittleback can't
bring up all the kittens in the town,
you need n't think. She’s a real old
brick of a cat to take these two. I
hope the others will die anyhow.”

“QO Phil,” said Rosy, “could n't
we find some other cat to ’dopt these
two?” Rosy’s tender heart ached






AND HER FAMILY. 31

as hard at the thought of these moth-
erless little kittens as 1f they had been
a motherless little boy and girl.

“No,” said Phil, “I don't know
any other cat round here that’s got
kittens.”

“ But, Phil,” persisted Rosy, “is n't
there some cat that hasn't got any
kittens that would like some ?”

Phil looked at Rosy for a minute
without speaking, then he burst out
laughing and said to Johnny, “ Come
on; what’s the use talking ?”

Then Rosy looked very much hurt,
and ran into the house to ask her
Aunt Mary if she did n't know of
any cat that would adopt the two




32 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

poor little kittens that Mammy Tit-
tleback would n't take.

The next morning, when the chil-
dren went out to visit their cats, the
two feeble little kittens were dead, so
that put an end to all trouble on that
score, and left only thirteen cats for
the children to take care of.

It is wonderful how fast young
cats grow. It seemed only a few
days before all eight of these little
kittens were big enough to run around,
and a very pretty sight it was to see
them following Johnny and Rosy
wherever they went.

Spitfire was Johnny’s favorite from
the beginning. He was asharp, spry






AND HER FAMILY. 33

fellow, not very good-natured to any-
body but Johnny. Rosy was really
afraid of him, even while he was lit-
tle; but Johnny made him his chief
pet, and told him everything that
happened.

Mammy Tittleback had divided
her own colors among her kittens
very oddly. “Spitfire” was all yellow
and white; “Coaley” was black as a
coal, and that was why he was called
“Coaley.” “ Blacky” was black and
white; “ Limbab,” white with gray
spots; “Gregory Second,” gray with
white spots; and “ Lily” was as white
as snow, for which reason she got her
pretty name. Rosy wanted her called

3




34 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

“White Lily,” but the boys thought
it too long. Where there were so
many cats, they said, none of the
names ought te be more than two
syllables long, if you could help it.
“Gregory” had to be called “ Gregory
Second,” because there. was another
Gregory already, an old cat over at
Grandma Jameson’s, and it was for
him that this kitten was named; and
“Tottontail” had to be called “ Tot-
tontail,” because he was all over gray,
with just a little bit of white at the
tip of his tail, like a cottontail rabbit.
And his brother was exactly like him,
only a little bit less white on his tail,

so it seemed best to call him “ Tot-











AND HER FAMILY. 35
tontail’s Brother;” and he had such
a funny way of putting his ears back,
it made him look like an old man; so
sometimes they could not help calling
him “Grandfather.” Altogether there
seemed to be a very good reason for
every name in the whole family, and
I think there was just as good a rea-
son for calling “Lily” “White Lily.”
However, as Phil said, “anybody
could see she was white; and nobody
ever heard of a black lily anyhow, and
it saved time to say just ‘ Lily.”




Mr. Frank Wettineton’s house
was an old-fashioned square wooden
house, with a wide hall running
straight through it from front to
back; at the back was a broad piazza
with a railing around it, and steps
leading down into the back yard.
Grape-vines grew on the sides of this

piazza, and a splendid great polonia-
tree, which had heart-shaped leaves

as big as dinner-plates, grew close










“ Rosy Chapman running among the Verbena beds, and half a dozen kittens

racing after her.””— PAGE 37.






MAMMY TITTLEBACK. 37





enough to it to shade it. This was
where Mrs. Wellington used to sit
with her sewing on summer after-
noons; and she often thought that
there could n't be a prettier sight in
all the world than Rosy Chapman
running among the verbena beds with
her long yellow curls flying behind,
her little bare white feet glancing up
and down among the bright blos-
soms, and half a dozen kittens racing
after her. Rosy loved to race with
them better than anything else ;
though sometimes she would sit
down in her little rocking-chair, hold-
ing her lap full of them, and rocking
them to sleep. But Johnny made a






ati ey a er eee ee eel

38 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

more serious business of it. Johnny
wanted to teach them. He had read
about learned pigs and trained fleas,
and he was sure these kittens were a
great deal brighter than either pigs
or fleas could possibly be; so what
do you think Johnny did? He
printed the alphabet in large letters





on a sheet of white pasteboard, nailed
it up on the inside of the largest room
in the cats’ house, and spent hours

and hours reading the letters over to
the kittens. He had a scheme of
putting the letters on separate square
bits of pasteboard or paper pasted
on wood, and teaching the kittens to
pick them out; but before he did











AND HER FAMILY. 39

that, he wanted to be sure that they
knew them by sight on the paper he
had nailed up, and he never became
sure enough of that to go on any far-
ther in his teaching. In fact, he never
got any farther than to succeed in
keeping them still for a few minutes
while he read the letters aloud. The
cat that kept still the longest, he said,
was the best scholar that day; he put
their names down in a little book, and
gave them good and bad marks ac-
cording as they behaved, just as he
and Rosy used to get marks in school.

After Johnny got all his flags up,
the cats’ house looked very pretty.
It had four flags on it; one was a






40 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

big one with the stars and stripes,
and “Our Republic” in big letters
on it; one was a “Garfield and
Arthur” flag, which had been given
to Johnny by the Garfield Club in
Mendon; underneath this was a
small white one Johnny made him-
self, with “ Hurrah for Both” on it
in rather uneven letters; then at two
of the corners of the house were
small red, white, and blue flags of
the common sort. But the glory
of all was a big flag on a flagstaff
twenty feet high, which Uncle Frank
put up for the boys. This also was
a “Garfield and Arthur” flag, and a
very fine one it was too. The kit-

ec






AND HER FAMILY. 4I

tens used to look up longingly at all
these bright flags blowing in the
wind above their house ; but Johnny
had taken care to put them high
enough to be beyond their reach even
when they climbed up to the ridge-
pole. They would have made tat-
ters of them all in five seconds if
they could have ever got their claws
into them.

As soon as the kittens were big
enough to enjoy playing with a mouse,
or, perhaps, taking a bite of one,
Mammy Tittleback returned to her
old habits of mouse-catching. There
had never been such a mouser as she
on the farm. It 1s really true that





ede cone ee vel




42 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

she had several times been known
to:catch six mice in five minutes by
Mr. Frank Wellington’s watch; and
once she did a thing even more won-
derful than that. This Phil described
to me himself; and Phil is one of the
most exact and truthful boys, and
never makes any story out bigger
than it is.

The place where they used to
have the best fun seeing Mammy
Tittleback catch mice was in the
cornhouse. ‘The floor of the corn-
house was half covered with cobs
from which the corn had been shelled;
in one corner these were piled up

half as high as the wall. The mice








AND HER FAMILY. 43

used to hide among these, and in
the cracks in the walls; the boys
would take long sticks, push the
cobs about, and roll them from side
to side. This would frighten the
mice and make them run out.
Mammy ‘Tittleback stood in the
middle of the floor ready to spring
for them the minute they ap-
peared. One day the boys were
doing this, and two mice ran out
almost at the same minute and the -
same way. Mammy Tittleback
caught the first one in her mouth;
they thought she would lose the sec-











ond one. Not a bit of it) Quick
as a flash she pounced on that one




44. MAMMY TITTLEBACK



too, and, without letting go of the
one she already had in her teeth, she
actually caught the second one! Two
live mice at once in her mouth! They
were not alive many seconds, though;
one craunch of Mammy Tittleback’s
teeth killed them both, and she
dropped them on the floor, and was
all ready to catch the next ones. Did
anybody ever hear of such a mouser
as that? |

Another story also Phil told me
about the kittens which I should have
found it hard to believe if I had read
itina book; but which I know must
be true, because Phil told it. One day,
after the kittens had grown so big












AND HER FAMILY. 45.

that they used to go everywhere, the
children went off for a long walk
in the fields, and four of the kittens
went with them. When the children
climbed fences the kittens crawled
through, and they had no trouble till
they came to a brook. The children
just tucked up their trousers and
waded through, first putting the kit-
tens all down together in a hollow at
the roots of a tree, and telling them
to stay still there till they came back.
They had n't gone many steps on the
other side when they heard first one
splash, then two, then three; and,
looking round, what should they see
but three of those little kittens swim-








46 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

ming for dear life across the brook,
their poor little noses hardly above
the water? It was as much as ever
they got across; but they did, and
scrambled out on the other side look-
ing like drowned rats. These were
Spithre and Gregory Second and
Blacky ; Tottontail was the fourth.
He did not appear, and he was not
to be seen, either, where they had put
him down on the other side. At last
they spied him racing up stream as
hard as he could go. He ran till he
came to a place where the brook was
only a little thread of water in the
grass, and there he very sensibly
stepped across; the only one of the





















as

oh
NAO]
VAS

The kittens swimming for dear life across the brook. — PAGE 46.



4

(0
file Ay 1

\
Mo
,












AND HER FAMILY. 47

whole party, cats or children, who
got over without wet feet. Now
who can help believing that ‘Totton-
tail thought it all out in his head, just
as a boy or a girl would who had
never learned to swim? It was very
wonderful that Spithre and Gregory
and Blacky should have plunged
in to swim across, when they had
never done such a thing before in all
their lives, and of course must have
hated the very touch of water, as all
cats do; but I think it was still more
wonderful in Tottontail to have rea-
soned that if he ran along the stream
for a little distance, he might possibly
come to a place where he could get














48 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

over by an easier way than swimming,
and without wetting his feet.

The summer was gone before the
children felt as if it had fairly begun.
Each of them had had a flower-bed
of his own, and ever so many of the
flowers had gone to seed before the
children had finished their first weed-
ing’ The little cats had enjoyed the
gardens as much as the children had.
When the beds were first planted, and
the green plants were just peeping
up, the kittens were very often scolded,
and sometimes had their ears gently
boxed, to keep them from walking
on the beds; but by August, when
the weeds and the flowers were all







AND HER FAMILY. 49

up high and strong together, they
raced in and out among them as
much as they pleased, and had fine
frolics under the poppies and climb-
ing hollyhock stems.

When the time of Johnny’s and
Rosy’s visit drew near its end,
Johnny felt very sad at the thought
of leaving his kittens. They were
“just at the prettiest age,’ he said;
“just beginning to be some comfort,”
after all the pains he had taken to
train them; and he was very much
afraid they would not be so well
taken care of after he had gone. |
Fred was going away to school for
the winter, and Phil, he thought,

4




50 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

would never have patience to feed
thirteen cats each day. However, he
did all that he could to make them
comfortable for the winter. He
boarded up the sides of their house
snug and warm, so that they need
not suffer from cold; and he made



his Aunt Mary promise to give them
plenty of milk twice a day. Then,
when the time came, he bade them |
all good-by one by one, and hada
long farewell talk with his favorite
Spitfire. Rosy, too, felt very sad at
leaving them, but not so sad as
_ Johnny.

Johnny and Rosy and their mother

were to spend the winter at their

a a eee |




“ Johnny and Rosy bade them good-by, one by one.” — PAGE 50.






AND HER FAMILY. 51

Grandma Jameson’s, in the town
of Burnet, only twelve miles from
Mendon, and Johnny said to Spit-
fire, —

“Tt isn't as if we were going so
far off, we could n’t ever come to see
you. We'll be back some day before
Christmas.”

“ Maow,” said Spitfire.

“T’m perfectly sure he understands
all I say,’ said Johnny. “ Don’t you,
Spitfire?”

“ Maow, maow,” replied Spitfire.

“There!” said Johnny — trium-
phantly; “I knew he did.”

It was the middle of October when
Johnny and Rosy left their Aunt




52 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



Mary’s and went to Grandma Jame-
son’s. Much to their delight, they
found four cats there.

“ A good deal better than none,”
said Johnny.

“Ves,” said Rosy, “but they ’re all
old. They won't play tag. They’re
real old cats.”

“Anyhow, they ’re better than
none, replied Johnny resolutely.
“ They’re good to hold, and Snow-
ball’s a splendid mouser.”

These cats’ names were “Snow-
ball,” “Lappit,” “Stonepile,” and
“Gregory.” This was the old “Greg-
ory” after whom the kitten “ Gregory
Second” over at Mendon had been






AND HER FAMILY.

named. “Gregory” had been in
the Jameson family a good many

years.








IV.

‘THERE was another character who
had been in the Jameson family a
good many years, about whom I
_must tell you, because he will come
in presently in connection with this
history of the cats. In fact, he has
more to do with the next part of the
history than even Johnny and Rosy
have. This is an old colored man
who takes care of Grandma Jame-
son's farm for her. He is as good






MAMMY TITTLEBACK. 55





an old man as “ Uncle Tom” was, in
“Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and I’m
sure he must be as black. He lives
in a little house in a grove of chest-
nut and oak trees, just across the
meadow from Grandma Jameson’s;
and, summer and winter, rain or shine,
he is to be seen every morning at
daylight coming up the lane ready
for his day’s work. His name is
Jerry; he is well known all over
Burnet, and he ts one of the old
men that nobody ever passes by
without speaking. “Hullo, Jerry!”
“ How de do, Jerry?” “Is that you,
Jerry?” are to be heard on all sides
as Jerry goes through the street.




56 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

There is a mule, too, that Jerry
drives, which is almost as well known
as Jerry. ‘There is a horse also on
the farm; but the horse is so fat he
cant go as fast as the mule does.
So the mule and the horse have gradu-
ally changed places in their duties;
the horse does the farm work and the
mule goes to town on errands; and
there is no more familiar sight in all
the town of Burnet than the Jame-
son Rockaway drawn by the mule
Nelly, with old Jerry sitting sidewise
on the low front seat, driving. There
isn't a week in the year that Jerry
does n't go down to the railway sta-
tion at least once, and sometimes sev-






AND HER FAMILY. 57

eral times, in this way, to bring some
of Grandma Jameson’s children or
grandchildren or nieces or nephews or
friends to come and make her a visit.
Her house is one of the houses that
never seems to be so full it can’t hold
more. You know there are some
such houses; the more people come,
the merrier, and there 1s always room
made somehow for everybody to sleep
at night.

You would n't think to look at the
house that it could hold many peo-
ple; it is not large. In truth, I can-

not myself imagine, often as I have
stayed in the dear old place, where
all the people have slept when I have






58 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



known twelve or more to come down
to breakfast of a morning, all looking
as if they had had a capital night's
rest. Jerry is always glad as any-
body in the house when visitors come ;
yet it makes him no end of work, car-
rying them and their luggage back
and forth to town, with all the rest
of the errands he has to do. Nelly
is pretty old, and the Rockaway is
small, and many a time Jerry has to
make two trips to get one party of
people up to the house, with all that
belongs to them in the way of trunks

and bags and bundles; but he likes it.
He pulls off his old drab felt hat, and
bows, and holds out both hands, and






AND HER FAMILY. 59

everybody who comes shakes hands
with Jerry, first of all, at the station.

One day, late in last October, Jerry
was at the post-office waiting for the
mail; when it came in, there was a
postal card from Mendon for Mrs.
Jameson, and as the _ postmistress
is Mrs. Jameson’s own niece, she
thought she would look at the mes-
sage on the card, and see if all were
well at Mr. Frank Wellington’s.
This was what she found written
on the card, —

“ Meet company at the three o’clock

train: |
That was the train which had just
come in and brought the mail.








60 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



“Oh, dear!” said she. “Jerry, it is
well I looked at this card. It is from
Mr. Wellington, and he says there
will be company down by the three
o'clock train, to go to Grandma's.
You must turn round and go right
to the station; they will be waiting,
and wondering why nobody’s there
to meet them.”

“ That's a. fact,’ said Jerry:
“they ve done sure, wonderin’ by
this time; ‘spect they’ve walked up;
but I ll go down’n’ see.”

So Jerry made as quick time as he
could coax out of the mule, down to
the railway station. The train had
been gone more than half an hour,


—
AND HER FAMILY. 61
















-and the station was quiet and de-
serted by all except the station-master,
who was waiting for the up-train,
which would be along in an hour.

“ Been anybody here to go up to
our house?” asked Jerry. “We got
a postal, sayin’ there’d be company
down on the three o'clock.”

“Well,” replied the station-master,
looking curiously at Jerry, “there was
some company came on that train for
your folks.”

“What became on ’em?” said

Jerry. “Hev they walked?”

“Well, no; they hain’t walked;
they ’re in the Freight Depot,” said
the man rather shortly.




62 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



Jerry thought this was the queerest
thing he ever heard of.

“In the Freight Depot!” ex-
claimed he. “ What'd they go there
for? Who be they ?”

“You Il find ’em there,” replied the
man, and turned on his heel.

Still more bewildered, Jerry hur-
ried to the Freight Depot, which was
on the opposite side of the railroad
track, a little farther down. NowI
am wondering if any of you children

‘

will guess who the “company” were

that had come from Mendon by the
three o'clock train to go to Grandma
Jameson's. It makes me laugh so
to think of it, that I can hardly write




AND HER FAMILY. 63



the words. I don’t believe I shall
ever get to be so old that it won't
- make me laugh to think about this
batch of visitors to Grandma Jame-
son's.
It was nothing more nor less than
all Johnny Chapman’s cats! Yes, all
of them, — Mammy Tittleback, Ju-
niper, Mousiewary, Spitfire, Blacky,
Coaley, Limbab, Lily, Gregory Sec-
ond, Tottontail, ‘Tottontail’s Brother,
Beauty, Clover. There they all were,
large as life, and maowing enough
to make you deaf. Poor things! it
was n't that they were uncomfortable,
for they were in a very large box, with
three sides made of slats, so they had




64 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

plenty of room and plenty of air;
but of course they were frightened
almost to death. The box was ad-
dressed in very large letters to



Carrain JoHNNY CHAPMAN
AND
First Liztutenant Rose Cuapman.

Above this was printed in still bigger
letters,

THE GARFIELD CLUB.

Some of the men who were at the
station when the box came, were made
very angry by this. They did not
know anything about the history of
the cats ; and of course they could not





Ln a


AND HER FAMILY. 65

see that the thing had any meaning
at all, except as an insult to the Gar-
field Club in Burnet. It was just
before Election, you see, and at that
time all men in the United States are
so excited they become very touchy
on the subject of politics; and all the
Garfield men who saw this great box
of mewing cats labelled the “ Garfield
Club” thought the thing had been
done by some Democrat to play off
a joke on the Republicans. So they
went to a paint-shop, and got some
black paint, and painted, on the other
side of the box, “ Hancock Serenad-

”

ers.” That was the only thing they

could think of to pay off the Demo-
| | |




——_

66 MAMMYV TITTLEBACK

crats whom they suspected of the
joke.
Jerry knew what it meant as soon

as he saw the box. He had heard
from Johnny and Rosy all about their



wonderful cats over at Uncle Frank’s,
and how terribly they missed them;
but it had never crossed anybody’s
mind that Uncle Frank would send
them after the children. Poor Jerry
did n't much like the prospect of his
ride from the station to the house;
however, he put the box into the
Rockaway, got home with it as
quickly as possible, and took it im-

mediately to the barn. |
Then he went into the house with
-——







AND HER FAMILY. 67



the mail, as if nothing had happened.
Jerry was something of a wag in his
way, as well as Mr. Frank Welling-
ton; so he handed the letters to Mrs.
Chapman without a word, and stood
waiting while she looked them over.
As soon as she read the postal she
exclaimed, —

“Qh, Jerry, thisis too bad. There’s
company down at the station; came
by the three o'clock train. You’ll
have to go right back and get them.
I wonder who it can be.”

“They ‘ve come, ma’am,’ said
Jerry quietly.

“Come!” exclaimed Mrs. Chap-
man; “come? Why, where are








68 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



they?” and she ran out on the piazza.
Jerry stopped her, and coming nearer
said, in a low, mysterious tone, —

“They ‘rein the barn, ma'am!”

“Jerry! Inthe barn! What do
you mean?” exclaimed Mrs. Chap-
man. And she looked so puzzled
and frightened that Jerry could not
keep it up any longer.

“Tt’s the cats, ma'am,” he said;
“them cats of Johnny’s from Mr.
Wellington’s: all of em. The men
to the station said there was forty;
but I don’t think there’s more’n
twenty ; mebbe not so many’s that;
they ‘re rowin’ round so, you can’t

”-
.

count ‘em very well






AND HER FAMILY. 69



“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” said Mrs.
Chapman. “ What won't Frank
Wellington do next!” Then she
found her mother, and told her, and
they both went out to the barn to look
at the cats. Jerry lifted up one of
the slats so that he could put in a
pail of milk for them; and as soon
as they saw friendly faces, and heard
gentle voices, and saw the milk, they
calmed down a little, but they were
still terribly frightened. Grandma
Jameson could not help laughing,
but she was not at all pleased.

“T think Frank Wellington might
have been in better business,” she
said. “We do not want any more








70 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



cats here: the winter is coming, when
they must be housed. What is to be
done with the poor beasts ?”

“Oh, we'll give most of them
away, mother,’ said Mrs. Chapman.
“They're all splendid kittens; any-
body ’ll be glad of them.”

“T do not think thee will find any
dearth of cats in the village; it seems
to be something most families are
supplied with: but thee can do what
thee likes with them; they can't be
kept here, that is certain,” replied
Mrs. Jameson placidly, and went
into the house.

Mrs. Chapman and Jerry decided
that the cats should be left in the box






AND HER FAMILY. 71



till morning, and the children should
not be told until then of their arrival.
When Mrs. Chapman was putting
Johnny and Rosy to bed, she said,—
“Johnny, if Uncle Frank should
send your cats over here, you would
have to make up your mind to give
some of them away. You know,
Grandma could n't keep them all!”
“What makes you think he ‘Il send
them over?” cried Johnny. “He
did n't say he would.”
“No,” replied Mrs. Chapman, “ I
know he did n't; but I think it 1s very
likely he found them more trouble,

after you went away, than he thought
they would be.”




72 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



“T got them fixed real comfortable
for the winter,’ said Johnny. “ Their
house is all boarded up, so ’t will be
warm; but I'd give anything to have
them here. There ’s plenty of room
inthe barn. They need n't even come
into the house.”

It took a good deal of reasoning
and persuading to bring Johnny to
consent to the giving away of any of
his beloved cats, in case they were
sent over from Mendon; but at last
he did, and he and Rosy fell asleep
while they were trying to decide which
ones they would keep, and which ones

they would give away, in case they
had to make the choice.














In the morning, after breakfast, the
news was told them, that the cats had
arrived the night before and were in
the barn. Almost before the words
were out of their mother’s mouth they
were off like lightning to see them.
Jerry was on hand ready to open the
box, and the whole family gathered
to see the prisoners set free. What
a scene it was! As soon as the slats
were broken enough to give room,

eee ee




74 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



out the cats sprang, like wild crea-
tures, heads over heels, heels over
heads, the whole thirteen in one tum-
bling mass. They ran in all directions
as fast as they could run, poor Rosy
‘and Johnny in vain trying to catch so
much as one of them.

“ They ‘re crazy like,” said Jerry ;
“they ‘ve been scared enough to kill
‘em; but they Il come back fast
enough. Ye needn't be afeard,’ he
added kindly to Johnny, who was
ready to burst out crying, to see even
his beloved Spitfire darting away like
a strange wildcat of the woods. Sure
enough, very soon the little ones be-
gan to stick their heads out from






AND HER FAMILY. 75



behind beams and out of corners,
and to take cautious steps towards
Johnny, whose dear voice they recog-
nized as he kept saying, pityingly, —

“Poor kitties, poor kitties, come
here to me; poor kitties, don’t you
know me?” In a few minutes he
had Spitfire in his arms, and Rosy
had Blacky, the one she had always
loved best. Mammy Tittleback, Ju-
niper, and Mousiewary had escaped
out of the barn, and disappeared in
the woods along the mill-race. They
were much more frightened than the
kittens, and had reason to be, for they
knew very well that it was an extraor-

dinary thing which had happened to
Ee 7










76 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



them, whereas the little ones did
not know but it often happened
to cats to be packed up in boxes
and take journeys in railway trains,
and now that they saw Johnny and
Rosy, they thought everything was
all right.

In the mean time the cats of the
house, Snowball, Gregory, Stonepile,
and Lappit, hearing the commotion
and caterwauling in the barn, had
come out to see what was going on.
On the threshold they all stopped,
stock still, set up their backs, and
began to growl. The little kittens
began to sneak off again towards
hiding-places. Snowball came for-








AND HER FAMILY. 77

ward, and looked as if she would make
fight, but Johnny drove her back, and
said very sharply, “Scat! scat! we
don't want you here.” On hearing
these words, Gregory and the others
turned round and walked scornfully
away, as if they would not take any
more notice of such young cats; but
Snowball was very angry, and con-
tinued to hang about the barn, every
now and then looking in, and growl-
ing, and swelling up her tail, and she
never would, to the last, make friends
with one of the new-comers.

Release had come too late for poor
Gregory Second and Lily. They had

never been strong as the others, and









78 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



the fright of the journey was too much

for them. arly on the morning
after their arrival, Gregory Second
was found dead in the barn. The
children gave him a grand funeral,
and buried him in the meadow be-
hind the house. There were staying
now at Mrs. Jameson’s two other
grandchildren of hers, Johnny and
Katy Wells; and the two Johnnies
and Katy and Rosy went out, in a
solemn procession, into the field to
bury Gregory. Each child carried a
cat in its arms, and the rest of the cats
followed on, and stood still, very seri-
ous, while Gregory was laid in the

ground. The boys filled up the grave,














\ oN
Realliywial





fi s
A ‘
Pe YAY |B
of



*¢ The children gave him a grand funeral. Each carried a cat in its arms, and the rest of the cats followed on.””— PAGE 78.



Ee






AND HER FAMILY. 79

made a good-sized mound over it, and
planted a little evergreen-tree at one
end. They also set very firmly, on
the top of the mound, what Johnny
called “a kind of marble monument.’
It was the marble bottom of an old
kerosene lamp. When this was all
done, the children sang a hymn,
which they had learned in their
school.

THE OLD BLACK CAT.

Woo so full of fun and glee,
Happy as a cat can be?
Polished sides so nice and fat,
Oh, how I love the old black cat!
Poor kitty! O poor kitty !
Sitting so cozy under the stove.








80

MAMMY TITTLEBACK

CHORUS.
Pleasant, purring, pretty pussy,
Frisky, full of fun and fussy ?
Mortal foe of mouse and rat,
Oh, I love the old black cat!
Yes, I do!

Some will like the tortoise-shell ;
Others love the white so well ;
Let them choose of this or that,
But give to me the old black cat.
Poor kitty! O poor kitty!
Sitting so cozy under the stove.

CHORUS.
Pleasant, purring, pretty pussy, etc.

When the boys, to make her run,

Call the dogs and set them on,
Quickly I put on my hat,
And fly to save the old black cat.




AND HER FAMILY. 81

Poor kitty! O poor kitty!
Sitting so cozy under the stove.

CHORUS.

Pleasant, purring, pretty pussy, etc.

This song had come to Burnet
years before, ina magazine. There
was no other printed copy of the
song; but, year after year, the Burnet
children had sung it at school, and
every child in town knew it by heart.

It cannot be said to be exactly a fu-
neral hymn, and Gregory was a gray
cat and not a black one, which made
it still less appropriate; but it was
the only song they knew about cats,

so they sang it slow, and made it do.
6




82 MAMMY TITTLEBACK

Just as they were finishing it a big
dog came darting down from the other
side of the mill-race, leaped over the
race, barking loud, and sprang in
among them. .

This gave the relatives a great
scare. All those that were standing
on the ground scrambled up the near-
est trees as fast as they could; and
even those that were being held in the
children’s arms scratched and fought
to get down, that they might run away
too. So the funeral ended very sud-
denly in great disorder, and with alto-
gether more laughing than seemed
proper at a funeral.

The next day Lily died and was


AND HER FAMILY. 83

buried by the side of Gregory, but
with less ceremony than had been
used the day before. Over her grave
was put a high glass monument, which
made much more show than the one
of marble on Gregory's grave. That
was only a flat slab, which lay on the
grass; but Lily's was a glass lamp
which had by some accident got a
little broken. This, set bottom side
up, pressed down firmly into the earth,
made a fine show, and could be seen
a good way off, “the way a montu-
ment ought to be,” Johnny said; and
he searched diligently to find some-
thing equally high and imposing for
Gregory’s grave, but could not find it.








84 MAMMY TITTLEBACK



In the course of a few days the re-
maining kittens and cats were all given
away, except Mammy Tittleback and
Blacky. They were selected as be-
ing on the whole the best ones to
keep. Mammy Tittleback is so good
a mouser that she would be a useful
member of any family, and Blacky
bids fair to grow up as good a mouser
as she. What became of Juniper and
Mousiewary was never known. They
were seen now and then in the neigh-
borhood of the house, but never stayed
long, and finally disappeared alto-
gether.

Mammy Tittleback, [ am sorry to
say, did not take the loss of her fam-




AND HER FAMILY. 85



ily in the least to heart; after the first
week or two she seemed as contented
and as much at home in her new quar-
ters as if she had lived there all her
life. What she has thought about it
all, there is no knowing; but as she
and Blacky lie asleep under the stove,
of an evening, you'd never suspect, to
look at them, that they had had such
a fine summer house to live in last
year, or had ever belonged to a “ Gar-

field Club,” and taken a railway jour-

ney.




THE OLD BLACK CAT.

Gisate See et
at ee Vey















1. Who so full of fun and glee, is -py as a cat can be?

2. Some willlike the tortoise shell, Others lovethe white so well;

3. When the boys, to make herrun, Call the dogsand set them on,
ef 2 2 AAS cop







K
Lh
xtee
xTerk
0

CESS

all

pa ss
=o
g—E









Bat
ill
rH?
ee
sey
wey
ee)
2 Ta
gull]
wt)
ey
We
| 1
@li
oo

Polished sides so nice and fat—Oh, how I love the old black cat.
Let them choose of this or that, But give to me the old black cat.
Quickly I put on my hat And fly to save .the old black cat.

efor ete 2 @. «2
eo

= =f fesse
paper fee be



























Affetuoso.
es. ae —$- = z = =f - Js [
= = —-g—-}—s—-F —— Z 7 =| 4
Ses a3
Poor kit - ty! 0, poor kit - ty!














THE OLD BLACK CAT. 87

653 ral

i Sit - ting so co - zy - der the stove.

SS S|
o aes ip gf ele ae zai



























t

V
Pleasant, vaeae pretty pussy, ones full of fun and fussy, et foe of

2% RRR _ eo tte
eae eee







































vo vv o
NN eek iss es
at == ew x feats 7
e a o Boe 3-3 o o- = gpa
! —@ a f= =
mouse andrat, O, I love the old ee cat. Yes, I do.
ee -~»- _ + 2 » £ +





















ee 9: es Z
Speen trey

mi

{From the ‘Schoolday Magazine,” March, 1873.]
























PREPAC E.



Tuis story of Mammy Tittleback and
her family was told to me last winter, at
Christmas time, in Grandma Jameson’s
house, by Johnny and Rosy Chapman and
their mother, and by Phil Wellington and
his mother, and by Johnny and Katy Wells,
and by Grandma Jameson herself, and by
“Aunt Maggie” Jameson, Grandma Jame-
son’s daughter, and by “Aunt Hannah,”
Grandma Jameson’s sister, and by “ Cousin

Fanny,” the postmistress who had the first






90 PREFACE.



sight of the postal card, and by Jerry, who
had the worst of the whole business, bring-
ing the box of cats from the railway-station
up to the house.

I don’t mean that each of these persons
told me the whole story from beginning to
end. I was not at Grandma Jameson’s long
enough for that; I was there only Christ-
mas day and the day after. But I mean
that all these people told me parts of the
story, and every time the subject was men-
tioned somebody would remember some-
thing new about it, and the longer we talked
about it the more funny things kept coming
up to the very last, and I don’t doubt that
when I go there again next summer, Phil

and Johnny will begin where they left off and






PREFACE. gI

tell me still more things as droll as these.
The story about the little kittens swim-
ming over the brook I did not hear until the
morning I was coming away. Justas I was
busy packing Phil came running up to my
room, saying, “ There’s one more thing we

forgot the cats did,” and then he told me



the story of the swimming. Then I said,
“Tell me some more, Phil; I dont believe
you ‘ve told me half yet.”
“Well,” he said, “you see, they were doing
things all the time, and we didn’t think
much about ’em. That’s the reason we
can’t remember,” which remark of Phil’s has !
a good lesson in it when you come to look |
at it closely. It would make a good text

for a little sermon to preach to children

Pee a






92 PREFACE.

that very often have to say, “I forgot,” about
something they ought to have done.

Things that we think very much about
we never forget, any more than we do per-
sons that we love very dearly and think
very much of. So “TI forgot” is not very
much of an excuse for not having done a
thing; it is only another way of saying “I
didn’t attend to it enough to make it stay
in my mind,” or, “ I did n’t care enough about
it to remember it.”

I heard the greater part of this story on _
Christmas night. Johnny and Rosy and
Phil and Katy had a great frolic telling it.
In the midst of it Johnny exclaimed, “ Don't
you want to see Mammy Tittleback ?”

“Indeed I do,” I replied. So he ran out






PREFACE. 93

to the barn and brought her in in his arms.
Snowball was already there. She was lying
on the hearth when Mammy Tittleback was
brought in, and I began to praise her, say-
ing what a beauty she was, and how hand-
some the yellow, black, and white colors in
her fur were. Snowball got up, and began
to walk about uneasily and to rub up against
us, as if she wanted to be noticed also.

“Snowball’s a nice cat too,” said Phil,
picking her up, “’most as good as Mammy
Tittleback.”

“Blacky’s the nicest,’ said Rosy, who
was rocking in her rocking-chair, and hug-
ging Blacky up close to her face. “ Blacky’s
the nicest of them all.” Upon which every-

body fell to telling what a tyrant Blacky had




94 PREFACE.



become; how she would be held in some-
body’s lap all the time, and that even Aunt
Hannah had had to give up to Blacky.
Even Aunt: Hannah, whom nobody in the
house, not even Grandma Jameson herself,
ever thinks of going against in the smallest
thing, because she is such a beautiful and
venerable old lady,— even Aunt Hannah
had had to give up to Blacky.

Aunt Hannah is over eighty years old
but she is never idle. She never has time
to hold cats in her lap; and, besides, I do
not think she loves cats so well as the rest
of her family do. As often as Blacky
jumped up in her lap, Aunt Hannah would
very gently set her on the floor; but in five

minutes Blacky would be up again. At last,






PREFACE. 95

when she found Aunt Hannah really would
not hold her in her lap, she took it in her
head to lie in Aunt Hannah’s work-basket,
close by her side; and just as often as Aunt
Hannah put her out of her lap she would
Spring into the work-basket, and curl her-
self up like a little puff-ball of fur among
the spools. This was even worse to Aunt
Hannah than to have her on her knees, and
she would take her out of the work-bas-
ket less gently than she lifted her out of her
lap, and set her on the floor. Then Blacky
would jump right up on her lap again, and
so they had it, — Aunt Hannah and Blacky,
—first lap, and then work-basket, till poor
Aunt Hannah got as nearly out of patience

- as alovely old lady of the Society of Friends


96 PREFACE.

ever allows herself to be. She got so out of
patience that she made a very nice, soft,
round cushion stuffed with feathers, and kept
it always at.hand for Blacky tolieon: Then
when Blacky jumped on her knees, she laid
her on the cushion; instantly Blacky would
spring into the work-basket, and when she
took her out of that, right up in her lap
again. On that cushion she would not lie.
At last Aunt Hannah was heard to say, “I
believe it is of no use, I’ll have to give up
to thee, little cat;” and now Blacky lies in
Aunt Hannah’s work-basket whenever she
feels like lying there instead of in Rosy’s

little chair or in somebody’s lap; and I

dare say by the time I go to Burnet again,
I shall find that Aunt Hannah has given up














‘ Now Blackie lies in Aunt Hannah’s work-basket whenever she feels like lying



there.”? — PAGE 96.









PREFACE. 97

in the matter of the lap also, and is holding
Blacky on her knees as many hours a day
as anybody else in the house.

There was a great deal of discussion
among the children as to the places where
the little kittens were living now, and as to
which ones were given away, and which
ones had run away.

I suppose when .Jerry had a half-dozen
kittens to give away all at once, he could n’t
stop to select them very carefully, or to sort
them out by name, or recollect where each
one went.

“T know where Spitfire is,” said Johnny ;
“I saw him yesterday.”

“Where?” said Phil.

“JT won't tell,” said Johnny, “ but I know.”
7






98 PREFACE.

“Juniper, he ran away. He'll take care
of himself. He used to come back once in
a while. We’d see him round the barn.
Mousiewary, she comes sometimes now; I
saw her the other day. She’s real smart.”

“Well, old Mammy Tittleback’s the best
of ‘em all,” said Phil, catching her up and
trying to make her snuggle down in his lap.
But Mammy Tittleback did not like to be
held. She wriggled away, jumped down,
and walked restlessly toward the kitchen
door. Phil followed, opened the door, and
let her go out. “She won't let you pet her,”
he said; “she’s a real business cat, she
always was. She likes to stay in the barn
and hunt rats better than anything in the

world, except when it’s so cold she can’t.”






PREFACE. 99

“She used to let me hold her sometimes
in the summer,” said Rosy.

“Oh, that was different. She had to be
staying round then, doing nothing, to look
after the kittens,” replied Phil. “She was n't
wasting any time then being held, but she
won't let you hold her now more’n two
or three minutes at a time. She jumps

right down, and goes off as if she was sent

After the children had gone to bed, Mrs.
Chapman told us a very droll part of the
history of the cats’ journey,— what might
be called the sequel to it. The Democrats
were not the only people in the village who
took offence at the sight of the cats. There

is a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty
















100 PREFACE.

to Animals in Burnet, and some of the peo-
ple who belonged to this society, when they
heard of the affair, took it into their heads
that Mr. Frank Wellington had done a very
cruel thing in shutting so many cats up in
a box together. It was a very good illus-
tration of the way stories grow big in many
times telling, the way the number of those
cats went on growing bigger and bigger
every time the story was told. At last they
got it up as high as forty-five; and there
really were some people in town who be-
lieved that forty-five cats had come from
Mendon to Burnet in that box. “Jerry
says they haven't ever had it lower than

twenty-five,” said Mrs. Chapman. “It runs

all the way from forty-five to twenty-five,




PREFACE. IOI

but twenty-five is the lowest, and there was
one man in the town who really did threaten
pretty seriously to enter a complaint against
Frank Wellington with the society, but I
guess he was laughed out of it. It is al-
most a pity he didn’t do it, it would have
been such a joke all round.”

This is all I have to tell you about
Mammy Tittleback and her family now.
When I go back to Burnet next summer, I
hope I shall find her with six more little
kittens, and Johnny and Rosy as happy
with them as they were with Spitfire,
Blacky, Coaley, Limbab, Lily, and Gregory

Second.
THE END.






THE HUNTER CATS

OF

CONNORLOA.














CONNORLOA.




THE

FoeNTER CATs

OF

CONNORLOA.

By HELEN JACKSON
(H. #.),

AUTHOR OF “LETTERS FROM A CAT,” ‘*MAMMY TITTLEBACK AND HER
FAMILY,” ETC.



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS

BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.



1894.


Copyright, 1884,

By RosBerts BROTHERS.










THE HUNTER CATS

OF

CONNORLOA.



I.

ONCE on a time, there lived in California
a gentleman whose name was Connor, —
Mr. George Connor. He was an orphan,
and had no brothers and only one sis-
ter. This sister was married to an Italian
gentleman, one of the chamberlains to
the King of Italy. She might almost as
well have been dead, so far as her brother

_George’s seeing her was concerned; for




10 THE HUNTER CATS

he, poor gentleman, was much too ill to
cross the ocean to visit her; and _ her
husband could not be spared from his
duties as chamberlain to the King, to come
with her to America, and she would not
leave him and come alone. So at the time
my story begins, it had been many years
since the brother and sister had met, and
Mr. Connor had quite made up his mind
that he should never see her again in this
world. He had had a sorry time of it for
a good many years. He had wandered
all over the world, trying to find a cli-
mate which would make him well. He
had lived in Egypt, in Ceylon, in Italy, in
Japan, in the Sandwich Islands, in the
West India Islands. Every place that had

ae












OF CONNORLOA. II



ever been heard of as being good for sick
people, he had tried; for he had plenty of
money, and there was nothing to prevent
his journeying wherever he liked. He had
a faithful black servant Jim, who went
with him everywhere, and took the best of
care of him; but neither the money, nor
the good nursing, nor the sea air, nor the
mountain air, nor the north, south, east
or west air, did him any good. He only
tired himself out for nothing, roaming from
place to place; and was all the time lonely,
and sad too, not having any home. So at
last he made up his mind that he would
roam no longer; that he would settle
down, build himself a house, and if he

could not be well and strong and do all the








12 THE HUNTER CATS



things he liked to, he would at least have
a home, and have his books about him,
and have a good bed to sleep in, and good
food to eat, and be comfortable in all those
ways in which no human being ever can be
comfortable outside of his own house.

He happened to be in California when
he took this resolution. He had been
there for a winter; and on the whole had
felt better there than he had felt anywhere
else. The California sunshine did him
more good than medicine: it is wonderful
how the sun shines there! Then it was
never either very hot or very cold in the
part of California where he was; and that
was a great advantage. He was in the

southern part of the State, only thirty miles










oe

OF CONNORLOA., 13



from the sea-shore, in San Gabriel. You
can find this name “San Gabriel” on your
atlas, if you look very carefully. It is in
small print, and on the Atlas it is not
more than the width of a pin from the
waters edge; but it really is thirty miles,
—a good day’s ride, and a beautiful day’s
ride too, from the sea. San Gabriel is a lit-
tle village, only a dozen or two houses in it,
and an old, half-ruined church,—a Cath-
olic church, that was built there a hundred
years ago, when the country was first set-
tled by the Spaniards. They named all
the places they settled, after saints; and
the first thing they did in every place was
to build a church, and get the Indians to

come and be baptized, and learn to pray.








14 THE HUNTER CATS



They did not call their settlements towns at
first, only Missions; and they had at one
time twenty-one of these Missions on the
California coast, all the way up from San
Diego to Monterey; and there were more
than thirty thousand Indians in them, all
being taught to pray and to work, and
some of them to read and write. They
were very good men, those first Spanish
missionaries in California. There are still
alive some Indians who recollect these
times. They are very old, over a hun-
dred years old; but they remember well
about these things.

Most of the principal California towns of
which you have read in your geographies

were begun in this way. San Diego, Santa






OF CONNORLOA. 15

Barbara, San Luis Obispo, San Rafael, San
Francisco, Monterey, Los Angeles, — all
of these were first settled by the mission-
aries, and by the soldiers and officers of the
army who came to protect the mission-
aries against the savages. Los Angeles
was named by them after the Virgin Mary.
The Spanish name was very long, “ Nues-
tra Sefora Reina de Los Angeles,” — that
meéans, “Our Lady the Queen of the
Angels.” Of course this was quite too long
to use every day; so it soon got cut down
to simply “ Los Angeles,” or “ The Angels,”

a name which often amuses travellers in



Los Angeles to-day, because the people who
live there are not a bit more like angels than

other people; and that, as we all know, is










16 THE HUNTER CATS



very unlike indeed. Near Los Angeles is
San Gabriel, only about fifteen miles away.
In the olden time, fifteen miles was not
thought any distance at all; people were
neighbors who lived only fifteen miles
apart.

There are a great many interesting sto-
ries about the first settlement of San Ga-
briel, and the habits and customs of the
Indians there. They were a very polite
people to each other, and used to train
their children in some respects very care-
fully. If a child were sent to bring water
to an older person, and he tasted it on the
way, he was made to throw the water out
and go and bring fresh water; when two

rown-up persons were talking together, if
5






OF CONNORLOA. 17



a child ran between them he was told that
he had done an uncivil thing, and would
be punished if he did it again. These are
only specimens of their rules for polite be-
havior. They seem to me as good as ours.
These Indians were very fond of flowers,
of which the whole country is in the spring
so full, it looks in places like a garden bed ;
of these flowers they used to make long
garlands and wreaths, not only to wear
on their heads, but to reach way down to
their feet. These they wore at festivals
and celebrations; and sometimes at these
festivals they used to have what they called
“song contests.” Two of the best singers,
or poets, would be matched together, to see

which could sing the better, or make the

2




>

18 THE HUNTER CATS



better verses. That seems to me a more
interesting kind of match than the spelling
matches we have in our villages. + But
there is nothing of this sort to be seen
in San Gabriel now, or indeed anywhere in
California. The Indians, most of them,

have been driven away by the white peo-



ple who wanted their lands; year by year
more and more white people have come,
and the Indians have been robbed of more
and more of their lands, and have died off
by hundreds, until there are not many left.

Mr. Connor was much interested in
learning all he could about them, and col-
lecting all he could of the curious stone
bowls and pestles they used to make,

and of their baskets and lace work. He






INDIAN MAKING BowLs.—~ Page 19.




OF CONNORLOA. 19



spent much of his time riding about the
country; and whenever he came to an In-
dian hut he would stop and talk with them,
and ask if they had any stone bowls or bas-
kets they would like to sell. The bowls
especially were a great curiosity. Nobody
knew how long ago they had been made.
When the missionaries first came to the
country, they found the Indians using them;
they had them of all sizes, from those so
large that they are almost more than a man
can lift, down to tiny ones no bigger than a
tea-cup. But big and little, they were all
made in the same way out of solid stone,
scooped out in the middle, by rubbing
another stone round and round on them.

You would think it would have taken a life-



=


20 THE HUNTER CATS



time to make one; but they seem to have
been plenty in the olden time. Even yet,
people who are searching for such curiosi-
ties sometimes find big grave-mounds in
which dozens of them are buried, — buried
side by side with the people who used to
eat out of them. There is nothing left of
the people but their skulls and a few
bones; but the bowls will last as long as

the world stands.

Now I suppose you are beginning to
wonder when I am coming to the Hunter
Cats! I am coming to them just the way
Mr. Connor did,— by degrees. I want you
to know about the place he lived in, and

how he used to amuse himself, before he

ee






J

OF CONNORLOA. 21



decided to build his house; and then I
must tell you about the house, and then
about the children that came to live with
him in it, and then about the Chinamen
that came to do his work, and about his
orange-trees, and the gophers that gnawed
the bark off them, and the rabbits that bur-
rowed under his vines. Oh! it will be a
good many pages yet before I can possibly
get to the time when the Hunter Cats come
in. But I will tell it as fast as I can, for I
dislike long stories myself.

The village of San Gabriel is in a beau-
tiful broad valley, running east and west.
The north wall of the valley is made bya
range of mountains, called the Sierra

Madre; that is Spanish and means










22 THE HUNTER CATS



“Mother Mountains.” They are grand
mountains; their tops are almost solid
stone, all sharp and jagged, with more
peaks and ‘ridges, crowded in together,
than you could possibly count. At the
bottom, they reach out into the valley by
long slopes, which in the olden time were
covered thick with trees and shrubs; but
now, the greater part of these have been
cut down and cleared off, and the ground
planted full of orange-trees and grape-
vines. If you want to see how it looks to
have solid miles upon miles of orange
orchards and vineyards together, you must
go to this San Gabriel Valley. There is
no other such place in the world.

As Mr. Connor rode about, day after








OF CONNORLOA. 23



day, and looked at these orchards and vine-
yards, he began to think he should like to
have some too. So he went up and down
along the base of the mountains, looking
for a good place. At last he found one.
It was strange nobody had picked it out
before. One reason was that it was so
wild, and lay so high up, that it would
be a world of trouble, and cost a deal of
money, to make a road up to it and to clear
the ground. But Mr. Connor did not care
for that. It was a sort of ridge of the
mountains, and it was all grown over thick
with what is called in California “ chap-
paral.” That is not the name of any one |
particular shrub or tree; it means a mix-

ture of every sort and kind. You all know








24 THE HUNTER CATS



what mixed candy is! Well, “ chapparal ”
is mixed bushes and shrubs; mixed thick
too! From a little way off, it looks as
smooth as moss; it is so tangled, and the
bushes have such strong and tough stems,
you can’t possibly get through it, unless
you cut a path before you with a hatchet ;
it is a solid thicket all the way.

As Mr. Connor rode to and fro, in front
of this green ridge, he thought how well
a house would look up there, with the
splendid mountain wall rising straight up
behind it. And from the windows of such
a house, one could look off, not only over
_ the whole valley, but past the hills of its
southern wall, clear and ‘straight thirty

miles to the sea. In a clear day, the line of








: OF CONNORLOA. 25

the water flashed and shone there like a



silver thread.

Mr. Connor used to sit on his horse by
the half hour at a time gazing at this hill-
side, and picturing the home he would like
to make there, —a big square house with
plenty of room in it, wide verandas on
all sides, and the slope in front of it one

solid green orange orchard. The longer



he looked: the surer he felt that this was
the thing he wanted to do.
The very day he decided, he bought the



land; and in two days more he had a big
force of men hacking away at the chappa-
ral, burning it, digging up the tough, tan-
gled roots; oh, what slow work it was!

Just as soon as a big enough place was






26 THE HUNTER CATS



cleared, he built a little house of rough
boards, — only two rooms in it; and there
he went to live, with Jim.

Now that he had once begun the making

of his house, he could hardly wait for it to
be done; and he was never happy except
-when he was overseeing the men, hurry-
ing them and working himself. Many a
tough old bush he chopped down with his
own hands, and tugged the root up; and
he grew stronger every day. This was a
kind of medicine he had not tried before.

A great part of the bushes were “ man-
zanita.” The roots and lower stems of
this shrub are bright red, and twisted
almost into knots. They make capital

firewood; so Mr. Connor had them all






OF CONNORLOA., 27



piled up in a pile to keep to burn in his
big fireplaces; and you would have
laughed to see such a wood-pile. It was
almost as high as the house; and no two
sticks alike,— all prongs and horns, and
crooks and twists; they looked like mon-
ster’s back teeth.

At last the house was done. It was a
big, old-fashioned, square house, with a
wide hall running through the middle; on
the east side were the library and dining-
room; on the west, the parlor and a big
billiard-room; upstairs were four large
bedrooms; at the back of the house, a
kitchen. No servants were to sleep in the
house. Mr. Connor would have only

Chinamen for servants; and they would








28 THE HUNTER CATS



sleep, with the rest of his Chinamen labor-
ers, in what he called the Chinese quarter,
—a long, low wooden building still farther
up on the hill. Only Jim was to sleep in
the house with Mr. Connor.

The Chinese quarter was a very com-
fortable house; and was presided over by
a fat old Chinaman, who had such a long
queue that Jim called him “ Long Tail.”
His name was See Whong Choo, which,
Jim said, was entirely too long to pro-
nounce. There were twenty Chinamen on
the place; and a funny sight it was to see
them all file out of a morning to their
work, every one with what looked like a
great dinner-plate upside down on his

head for a hat, and his long, black hair








OF CONNORLOA. 29



braided in a queue, not much bigger than
a rat tail, hanging down his back.

People in California are so used to see-
ing Chinamen, that they do not realize
how droll they look to persons not accus-
tomed to the sight.

Their yellow skins, their funny little
black eyes, set so slanting in their heads
that you can’t tell half the time whether
they are looking straight at you or not,
their shiny shaved heads and pig-tails, are
all very queer. And when you first hear
them talking together in their own tongue,
you think it must be cats trying to learn
English; it is a mixture of caterwaul and
parrot, more disagreeable in sound than

any language I ever heard.








30 '_THE HUNTER CATS

About a year after Mr. Connor had
moved into his new house, he got a let-
ter, one night, which made him very un-
happy. It told him that his sister and
her husband were dead; they had died,
both of them in one week, of a dreadful
fever. Their two children had had the
fever at the same time, but they were get-
ting well; and now, as there was nobody
in Italy to take care of them, the letter
asked what should be done with them.
Would Mr. Connor come out himself, or
would he send some one? The Count
and his wife had been only a few days ill,
and the fever had made them delirious
from the first, so that no directions had

been given to any one about the children ;








ine

‘an

=
SSS
SS
= Se ean



THE Kino’s PALACE. — Page 31.




OF CONNORLOA., 31

and there the two poor little things were,
all alone with their nurse in their apart-
ment in the King’s palace. They had had
to live in the palace always, so that the
Count could be ready to attend on the
King whenever he was wanted.

Giuseppe and Maria (those were their
names) never liked living there. The
palace was much too grand, with its
marble staircases, and marble floored
rooms, so huge and cold; and armed soldiers
for sentinels, standing at the corners and
doors, to keep people from going into
rooms without permission, and to keep
watch also, lest somebody should get in
and kill the King. The King was always

afraid of being killed; there were so many












32 THE HUNTER CATS



unhappy and discontented persons in Italy,
who did not want him to be King. Just
think how frightful’ it must be to know
every day, — morning, noon, and night, —
that there was danger of somebody's com-
ing stealthily into your room to kill you!
Who would bea king? It used to make
the children afraid whenever they passed
these tall soldiers in armor, in the halls.
They would hold tight to each other's
hands, and run as fast as they could, past
them; and when they got out in the open
air, they were glad; most of all when their
nurse took them into the country, where
they could run on the grass and pick
flowers. There they used often to see poor

little hovels of houses, with gardens, and a








OF CONNORLOA. 33



donkey and chickens in the yard, and chil-
dren playing; and they used to say they
wished their father and mother were poor,
and lived in a house like that, and kept a
donkey. And then the nurse would tell
them they were silly children; that it was
a fine thing to live in a palace, and have
their father one of the King’s officers, and
their mother one of the most beautiful of
the Queen’s ladies; but you could n’t have
made the children believe it. They hated
the palace, and everything about it, more
and more every day of their lives.
Giuseppe was ten, and Maria was seven.
They were never called by their real
names: Giuseppe was called Jusy, and

Maria was called Rea; Jusy and Rea, no-
3










34 THE HUNTER CATS



body would ever have guessed from that,
what their real names were. Maria is pro-
nounced Makyrea in Italy; so that was the
way she came to be called Rea for short-
ness. Jusy gave himself his nickname
when he was a baby, and it had always
stuck to him ever since.

It was enough to make anybody’s heart
ache to see these two poor little things,
when they first got strong enough to totter
about after this fever; so weak they felt,
they could hardly stand; and they cried
more than half the time, thinking about
their papa and mamma, dead and buried
without their even being able to kiss them
once for good-by. The King himself felt so

sorry for the little orphans, he came to speak












OF CONNORLOA. 35



to them; and the kind Queen came almost
every day, and sent them beautiful toys,
and good things to eat; but nothing com-
forted the children.

“What do you suppose will become of
us, Jusy?” Rea often said; and Jusy
would reply, —

“ T don’t know, Rea. As soon asI’ma
man, I can take care of you and myself too,
easy enough; and that won't be a great
while. I shall ask the King to let me be
one of his officers like papa.”

“Oh, no! no! Jusy,” Rea would reply.
“Don’t! Don’t let’s live in this horrid pal-
ace. Ask him to give you a little house in
the country, with a donkey; and I will cook

the dinner. Caterina will teach me how.”








36 LHE HUNTER CATS

Caterina was their nurse.

“ But there would n't be any money to
pay Caterina,” Jusy would say.

“The King might give us enough for
that, Jusy. He is so kind. I’m sure he
would, don’t you think so?” was Rea’s
answer to this difficulty.

“No,” said Jusy, “I don’t think he
would, unless: 1 earned it’ Papa had to
work for all the money he had.”

It was a glad day for the children when
the news came that their uncle in America
was going to send for them to come and
live with him; and that in three weeks the
man who was to take them there would
arrive. This news came over by tele-

graph, on that wonderful telegraph wire,








OF CONNORLOA. 37



down at the bottom of the ocean. Their
kind Uncle George thought he would not
leave the children uncheered in their sus-
pense and loneliness one minute longer than
he could help; so he sent the message
by telegraph; and the very day after this
telegraphic message went, Jim set out for
Italy.

Jim had travelled so much with Mr.
Connor that he was just the best possible
person to take charge of the children on
their long journey. He knew how to
manage everything; and he could speak
Italian and French and German well
enough to say all that was necessary in
places where no English was spoken.

Moreover, Jim had been a servant in Mr.






38 THE HUNTER CATS



Connor's father’s house all his life; had
taken care of Mr. Connor and his sister
when they were a little boy and girl togeth-
er, just as Jusy and Rea were now. He
always called Mr. Connor “ Mr. George,”

”

and his sister “ Miss Julia;” and when he
set out to go for the children he felt almost
as if he were going to the help and rescue
of his own grandchildren.

Jusy and Rea did not feel that they were
going to a stranger; for they had heard
about their Uncle George ever since they
could remember; and all about “ Jim ”
too. Almost every year Mr. Connor used
to send his sister a new picture of himself;
so the children knew very well how he

looked.








OF CONNORLOA. 39



When the news came that they were to
go to America and live with him, they got
out all of these pictures they could find,
and ranged them ina line on the mantel-
piece in their parlor. There was a picture
of Jim too, as black as charcoal. At first,
Rea had been afraid of this; but Jusy
thought it was splendid. Every morning
the lonely little creatures used to stand in
front of this line of pictures and say,
“ Good-morning, Uncle George! Good-
morning to you, Mr. Black Man! How
soon will you get here? We shall be very
glad to see you.”

It was over a month before he arrived.
The children had been told that he might

be there in three weeks from the day the










40 THE HUNTER CATS



despatch came; and as soon as the three
weeks were ended, they began almost to
hold their breaths listening for him; they
were hardly , willing to stir out of the
palace for a walk, for fear he might come
while they were away. Rea watched at
the windows, and Jusy watched at the
doorway which led into the corridor.

“He might be afraid of the sentinel at
the corner there,” he said. “ Caterina says
there are no palaces in America.”

“ Goody!” interrupted Rea, “I’m so
glad.”

“And so perhaps he has never seen a
man in armor like that; and I’d better be
at the door to run and meet him.”

All their clothes were packed ready for








OF CONNORLOA. 41



the journey; and all the things which had
belonged to their mamma were packed up
too, to go with them. The huge rooms
looked drearier than ever. The new cham-
berlain’s wife was impatient to get settled
in the apartment herself, and kept com-
ing to look at it, and discussing, in the
children’s presence, where she would put
this or that piece of furniture, and how she
would have her pictures hung.

“T think she is a very rude lady,” said
Jusy. “ The Queen said these were our
rooms so long as we stayed, just the same
as if mamma were here with us; and I
think I see her coming in here that way

if mamma was here!”






IL,

AFTER all their precautions, Jusy and
Rea were out when Jim arrived. They
had been to take a walk with Caterina; and
when they came back, as they passed the
big sentinel at the outside gate, he nodded
to them pleasantly, and said, —

“He has come!—the black signor from
America.” (“Signor ” is Italian for “ Mr.”)

You see everybody in the palace, from
the King down to the scullions in the

kitchen, was interested in the two father-




































































































Jusy AND REA.

“He has come! —the black signor from America.” -— Page 42.




THE HUNTER CATS. 43



less and motherless children, and glad to
hear that Jim had arrived.

The very next day they set off. Jim was
impatient to be back in California again ;
there was nothing to wait for. Caterina
was greatly relieved to find that he did not
wish her to go with him. The Queen had
said she must go, if the black signor wished
it; and Caterina was wretched with fright
at the thought of the journey, and of the
country full of wild beasts and savages.
“ Worse than Africa, a hundred times,” she
said, “from all Ican hear. But her Maj-
esty says I must go, if Iam needed. I'd
rather die, but I see no way out of it.”

When it came to bidding Rea good-by,

however, she was almost ready to beg to




oe ee
44 THE HUNTER CATS



be allowed to go. The child cried and
clung to her neck; and Caterina cried and
sobbed too.

But the wise Jim had provided himself
with a powerful helper. He had bought
a little white spaniel, the tiniest creature
that ever ran on four legs; she was no more
than a doll, in Reqs arms; her hair was
like white silk floss. She had a blue satin
collar with a gilt clasp and padlock; and on
the padlock, in raised letters, was the name
“Fairy.” Jim had thought of this in New
York, and bought the collar and padlock
there; and the dog he had bought only

one hour before they were to set out on



their journey. She was in a beautiful little



flannel-lined basket; and when Rea clung






OF CONNORLOA. 45



to Caterina’s neck crying and sobbing, Jim
stepped up to her and said, —

“Don't cry, missy; here’s your little
dog to take care of; she’ll be scared if she
sees you cry.”

“Mine! Mine! That sweet doggie!”
crted Rea. She could not believe her eyes.
She stopped crying; and she hardly noticed
when the Queen herself kissed her in fare-
well, so absorbed was she in “ Fairy ” and
the blue satin collar. “Oh, you are a very
good black man, Signor Jim,” she cried.
“ T never saw such a sweet doggie; I shall
carry her in my own arms all the way
there.”

It was a hard journey; but the children

enjoyed every minute of it. The account








46 THE HUNTER CATS





of all they did and saw, and the good times
they had with the kind Jim, would make
a long story by itself; but if I told it, we
should never get to the Hunter Cats; so I
will not tell you anything about the jour-
ney at all except that it took about six
weeks, and that they reached San Gabriel
in the month of March, when everything
was green and beautiful, and the country
as full of wild flowers. as the children had |
ever seen the country about Florence in
Italy. ,

Mr. Connor had not been idle while Jim
was away. After walking up and down
his house, with his thinking-cap on, for a
few days, looking into the rooms, and

trying to contrive how it should be rear-






OF CONNORLOA. 47



ranged to accommodate his new and unex-
pected family, he suddenly decided to build
on a small wing to the house. He might
as well arrange it in the outset as it would
be pleasantest to have it when Jusy and
Rea were a young gentleman and a young
lady, he thought. What might do for them
very well now, while they were little chil-
dren, would not do at all when they were
grown up.

So, as I told you, Mr. Connor being a
gentleman who never lost any time in
doing. a thing he had once made up his
mind to, set carpenters at work immedi-
ately tearing out half of one side of his
new house; and in little over a month,

there was almost another little house








48 THE HUNTER CATS



joined on to it. There was a good big
room for Rea’s bedroom, and a small room
opening out of it, for her sitting-room ;
beyond this another room in which her
nurse could sleep, while she needed one,
and after she grew older, the governess
who must come to teach her; and after
she did not need any governess, the room
would be a pleasant thing to have for her
young friends who came to visit her. This
kind uncle was planning for a good many
years ahead, in this wing to his house.
These rooms for Rea were in the second
story. Beneath them were two _ large
rooms, one for Jusy, and one for Jim. A
pretty stairway, with a lattice-work wall,

went up outside to Rea’s room, and at the








OF CONNORLOA. 49



door of her room spread out into a sort of
loggia, or upstairs piazza, such as Mr. Con-
nor knew she had been used to in Italy.
In another year this stairway and loggia
would be a bower of all sorts of vines,

things grow so fast in California.

And now we are really coming to the
Cats. They had arrived before the chil-
dren did.

When the children got out of the cars
at San Gabriel, there stood their Uncle
George on the platform waiting for them.
Wusy spied him’ ‘first. “ There’s Uncle
George,” he shouted, and ran towards him
shouting, “ Uncle George! Uncle Georgel

Here we are.”








50 THE HUNTER CATS

Rea followed close behind, holding up
Fairy. “ Look at my doggie that Signor
black Jim gave me,” she cried, holding
Fairy up as high as she could reach; and
in the next minute she herself, doggie and
all, was caught up in Uncle George’s arms.

“ What makes you cry, Uncle George?”
she exclaimed; “we thought you would
be very glad to see us!”

“ So I am, you dear child,” he said. “I
am only crying because I am so glad.”

But Jusy knew better, and as soon as
he could get a chance, he whispered to
Rea, “I should have thought you would
have known better than to say anything
to Uncle George about his having tears in

his eyes. It was because we reminded










OF CONNORLOA. 51



him so much of mamma, that he cried. I
Saw the tears come in his eyes, the first
minute he saw us, but I was n't going to
say a word about it.”

Poor little Rea felt badly enough to
think she had not understood as quickly
as Jusy did; but the only thing she could
think of to do was to Spring up in the seat
of the wagon, and put her arms around her
uncle’s neck, and kiss him over and over,
saying, “ We are going to love you, like,
—oh,— like everything, Jusy and me!
I love you better than my doggie!”

But when she said this, the tears came
into Mr. Connor’s eyes again; and Rea
looked at Jusy in despair.

“Keep quiet, Rea,” whispered Jusy.










52 THE HUNTER CATS



« He doesn’t want us to talk just yet, I
guess; ” and Rea sat down again, and tried
to comfort herself with Fairy. But she
could not keep her eyes from watching her
uncle’s face. Her affectionate heart was
grieved to see him look so sad, instead of
full of joy and gladness as she had thought
it would be. Finally she stole her hand
into his and sat very still without speak-
ing, and that really did comfort Mr.
Connor more than anything she could
have done. The truth was, Rea looked
so much like her mother, that it was
almost more than Mr. Connor could bear
when he first saw her; and her voice
also was like her mother’s.

Jusy did not in the least resemble his










OF CONNORLOA. 53



mother; he was like his father in every
way, — hair as black as black could be, and
eyes almost as black as the hair; a fiery,
flashing sort of face Jusy had; and a
fiery, flashing sort of temper too, I am
sorry to say. A good deal like thunder-
storms, Jusy’s fits of anger were; but, if
they were swift and loud, like the thunder,
they also were short-lived,— cleared off
quickly, — like thunder-storms, and showed
blue sky afterward, and a beautiful rain-
bow of sorrow for the hasty words or
deeds.

Rea was fair, with blue eyes and yellow
hair, and a temper sunny as her face. In
Italy there are so few people with blue eyes

and fair hair, that whenever Rea was seen






54 THE HUNTER CATS



in the street, everybody turned to look at
her, and asked who she was, and remem-
bered her; and when she came again, they
said, “ Ecco! Ecco! (That is Italian for
Look! Look!) There is the little blue-
eyed, golden-haired angel.” Rea did not
know that the people said this, which was
well, for it might have made her vain.

It was six miles from the railway station
to Mr. Connor’s house. But the house
was in sight all the way; it was so high
up on the mountain-side that it showed
plainly, and as it was painted white, you
could see it in all directions like a light-
house. Mr. Connor liked to be able to see
it from all places when he was riding

about the valley. He said it looked




OF CONNORLOA. 55

friendly to him; as if it said, all the time,
“Here I am, you can come home any
minute you want to.” ,

After they had driven about half way,
Mr. Connor said, —

“ Children, do you see that big square

house up there on the mountain? That



is Connorloa.”

“Whose house is it, Uncle George?”



said Jusy.

“Why, did you not hear?” replied Mr.
Connor. “ It is Connorloa.”

The children looked still more puzzled.

« Qh,” laughed their uncle. “Is it pos-
sible nobody has told you the name of my

house? I have called it Connorloa, from

my own name, and ‘loa, which is the


L 56 THE HUNTER CATS



word in the Sandwich Islands for ‘ hill’ - I
suppose I might have called it Connor
Hill, but I thought ‘ loa’ was prettier.”

«Oh, so do I,’ said Jusy.. “It is love-
ly. Connorloa, Connorloa,” he repeated.
“ Does n't it sound like some of the names
in Italy, Rea?” he said.

“Prettier!” said little Rea. “ No word
in Italy, so pretty as Connorloa; nor so
nice as Uncle George.”

“You dear, loving little thing!” cried
Uncle George, throwing his arms around
her. “Yow are- for all: the: world’ your
mother over again.”

“ That ’s just what I’ve been saying to



myself all the way home, Mr. George,”

said Jim.: “Its seemed tome half ‘the








OF CONNORLOA. 57



time as if it were Miss Julia herself; but
the boy is not much like you.”

“No,” said Jusy proudly, throwing back
his handsome head, and his eyes flashing.
“Tam always said to be exactly the por-
trait of my father; and when I am a man,
I am going back to Italy to live in the
King’s palace, and wear my father’s
sword.”

“T sha’n't go,” said Rea, nestling close
to her uncle. “ I shall stay in Connorloa
with Uncle George. Ihate palaces. Your
house is n't a palace, is it, Uncle George?
It looks pretty big.”

“No, my dear; not by any means,”
replied Mr. Connor, laughing heartily.
“ But why do you hate palaces, my little








58 THE HUNTER CATS



Rea? Most people think it would be the
finest thing possible to live ina palace.”

«T dont,’ Said ~ ‘Rea... “ 1. just shate
them; the rooms are so big and so cold;
and the marble floors are so slip-py, I've
had my knees all black and blue tumbling
down on them; and the stairs are worse
yet; I used to have to creep on them; and
there is a soldier at every corner with a
gun and a sword to kill you, if you break
any of the rules. I think a palace is just
like a prison!” |

“Well done, my little Republican!”
cried Uncle George.

“What is that?” said Rea.

“TI know,’ said Jusy. “It is a person

that does not wish to have any king.








OF CONNORLOA. 59



There were Republicans in Italy ; very bad
men. Papa said they ought to be killed.
Why do you call Rea by that name, Uncle
George?” and Jusy straightened himself
up like a soldier, and looked fierce.

Mr. Connor could hardly keep his face
straight as he replied to Jusy: “ My dear |

boy the word does not mean anything bad



in America; we are all Republicans here.
You know we do not have any king. We
do not think that is the best way to take
care of a country.”

“ My papa thought it was the best way,”
haughtily answered Jusy. “I shall think
always as papa did.”

“ All right, my man,” laughed Uncle

George. “ Perhaps you. will. You can



sean else fe COU AA he vee aR






60 THE HUNTER CATS



think and say what you like while you live
in America, and nobody will put you in
prison for your thoughts or your words,
as they might if you lived in Italy.”

It was near night when they reached
the house. As they drove slowly up the
long hill, the Chinamen were just going,
on the same road, to their supper. When
they heard the sound of the wheels, they
stepped off the road, and formed them-
selves into a line to let the carriage pass,
and to get a peep at the children. They
all knew about their coming, and were
curious to see them.

When Rea caught sight of them, she
screamed aloud, and shook with terror, and

hid her face on her uncle’s shoulder.










“The Chinamen were just going to their supper, and they formed themselves
into a line.” — PAGE 60.




OF CONNORLOA. 61



« Are those the savages?” she cried.
“Oh, don’t let them kill Fairy; and she
nearly smothered the little dog, crowding
her down out of sight on the seat between
herself and her uncle.

Jusy did not say a word, but he turned
pale; he also thought these must be the
savages of which they had heard.

Mr. Connor could hardly speak for
laughing. “ Who ever put such an idea
as’ that -mto your head?“ - “he © cried.
“ Those are men from China; those are
my workmen; they live at Connorloa all
the time. They are very good men; they
would not hurt anybody. There are not
any savages here.”

“ Caterina said America was all full of








62 THE HUNTER CATS



savages,” sobbed Rea,—“ savages and
wild beasts, such as lions and wolves.”

“That girl was a fool,” exclaimed Jim.
“Tt was a ‘good thing, Mr. George, you
told me not to bring her over.”

“ T should say so,” replied Mr. Connor.
“The idea of her trying to frighten these
children in that way. It was abominable.”

“She did nothing of the kind,” cried
Jusy, his face very red. “ She was talking
to her cousin; and she thought we were
asleep ; and Rea and I listened; and I told
Rea it was good enough for us to get so
frightened because we had listened. But
I did not believe it so much as Rea did.”

The Chinamen were all bowing and

bending, and smiling in the gladness of










OF CONNORLOA. 63





their hearts. Mr. Connor was a good
master to them; and they knew it would
be to him great pleasure to have these
little children in the house.

While driving by he spoke to several of
them by name, and they replied. Jusy
and Rea listened and looked.

“ What are their heads made of, Uncle
George?” whispered Rea. “ Will they
break if they hit them?”

At first, Mr. Connor could not under-
stand what she meant; then in a moment
he shouted with laughter.

Chinamen have their heads shorn of all
hair, except one little lock at the top;
this is braided in a tight braid, like a whip-

lash, and hangs down their backs, some-








64 THE HUNTER CATS



times almost to the very ground. The
longer this queer little braid is, the prouder
the Chinaman feels. All the rest of his
head is bare and shining smooth. They
looked to Rea like the heads of porcelain
baby dolls she had had; and that those
would break, she knew by sad experience.
How pleased Rea and Jusy were with
their beautiful rooms, and with everything
in their Uncle George’s house, there are
no words to’ tell. They would have been -
very unreasonable and ungrateful children,
if they had not been; for Mr. Connor had
not forgotten one thing which could add
to their comfort or happiness: books, toys,
everything he could think of, or anybody
could suggest to him, he had bought.








OF CONNORLOA. 65



And when he led little Rea into her bed-
room, there stood a sweet-faced young
Mexican girl, to be her nurse.

“ Anita,” he said, “ here is your young
lady.”

“Tam very glad to see you, senorita,”
said the girl, coming forward to take off
Rea’s hat; on which Rea exclaimed, —

“Why, she is Italian! That is what
Caterina called me. And Caterina had a
sister whose name was Anita. How did
you get over here?”

“ I was born here, senorita,’ replied the
girl.

“Tt is not quite the same word, Rea,”
said Mr. Connor, “though it sounds

so much like it. It was ‘signorita’ you
5






66 THE HUNTER CATS



were called in Italy; and it is ‘sefiorita’
that Anita here calls you. That is Span-
ish; and Anita speaks much more Spanish
than English. That is one reason I took
her. I want you to learn to speak in
Spanish.”

“ Then we shall speak four languages,”
said Jusy proudly, — “ Italian, French, and
English and Spanish. Our papa spoke
eleven. That was one reason he was so
useful to the King. Nobody could come
from any foreign country that papa could
not talk to. My papa said the more
languages a man spoke, the more he could
do in the world. I shall learn all the Amer-
ican languages before I go back: to Italy.

Are there as many as nine, Uncle George?”








OF CONNORLOA. 67



“VS, 2 good many more,” replied
Uncle George. “ Pretty nearly a language
for every State, I should say. But. the
fewer you learn of them the better. If you
will speak good English and Spanish, that
is all you will need here.”

“ Shall we not learn the language of the

signors from China?” asked Rea.

: At which Jim, who had followea, and
was standing in the background, looking
on with delight, almost went into convul-
_ sions of laughter, and went out and told the
Chinamen in the kitchen that Miss Rea
wished to learn to speak Chinese at once.
So they thought she must be a very nice
little girl, and were all ready to be her

warm friends.








68 THE HUNTER CATS





The next morning, as Rea was dressing,
she heard a great caterwauling and miaow-
ing. Fairy, who was asleep on the foot of
her bed, sprang up and began to bark
furiously; all the while, however, looking
as if she were frightened half to death.
Never before had Fairy heard so many
cats’ voices at once.

Rea ran to the open window; before :
she reached it, she heard Jusy calling to
her from below, —

“Real Rea! Are you up? Come out
and see the cats.”

Jusy had been up ever since light,
roaming over the whole place: the stables,
the Chinamen’s quarters, the tool-house,

the kitchen, the wood-pile; there was noth-










OF CONNORLOA. 69

ing he had not seen; and he was in a state
of such delight he could not walk straight
or steadily; he went on the run and with
a hop, skip, and jump from each thing to
the next.

« Hurry, Rea! .- he screamed...“ Do
hurry. Never mind your hair. Come
down. They ll be done!”

Still the miaowing and caterwauling
continued.

“Oh, hurry, hurry, Anita,” said Rea.
“ Please let me go down; I'll come up to
have my hair done afterwards. What is it,
Anita? Is it really cats? Are there a
thousand?” )

Anita laughed. “ No, sefiorita,’ she

said. “Only seventeen! And you will




70 THE HUNTER CATS



see them every morning just the same.
They always make this noise. They are
being fed; and there is only a very little
meat forso many. Jim keeps them hun-
gry all the time, so they will hunt better.”

“Hunt!” cried Rea.

“ Yes,” said Anita. “ That is what we
keep them for, to hunt the gophers and
rabbits and moles. They are clearing them
out fast. Jim says by another spring there
won't be a gopher on the place.”

Before she had finished speaking, Rea
was downstairs and out on the east
veranda. At the kitchen door stood a
Chinaman, throwing bits of meat to the
scrambling seventeen cats, — black, white,

tortoise-shell, gray, maltese, yellow,. every

Lae at






2
Ne

N, Ni

\

Cty ne:

=
Tent
SP

oe este
Hee
s













Tue CHINAMAN, AH FOO, FEEDING THE CATs. — Page 70.


OF CONNORLOA. 71



color, size, shape of cat that was ever seen.
And they were plunging and leaping and
racing about so, that it looked like twice
as many cats as there really were, and as
if cevery cat had a dozen tails. “ Siz!
Sfz! Sputter! Scratch, spp, spt! Growl,
growl, miaow, miaow,” they went, till,
between the noise and the flying around,
-it was a bedlam.

Jusy had laughed till the tears ran out
of his eyes; and Ah Foo (that was the
-Chinaman’s name) was laughing almost as
hard, just to see Jusy laugh. The cats
were an old story to Ah Foo; he had got
over laughing at them long ago.

Ah Foo was the cook’s brother. While
Jim had been away, Ah Foo had waited at

Eee










72 THE HUNTER CATS



table,, and done all the housework except
the cooking. The cook’s name was Wang
Hi. He was old; but Ah Foo was young,
not more than twenty. He did not like to
work in the house, and he was glad Jim
had got home, so he could go to working
out of doors again. He was very glad, too,
to see the children; and he had spoken so
pleasantly to Jusy, that in one minute Jusy.
had lost all his fear of Chinamen.

When Rea saw Ah Foo, she hung back,
and was afraid to go nearer. .

“Oh, come on! come on!” shouted
Jusy. “ Don't be afraid! He is just like
Jim, only a different color. They have

men of all kinds of colors here in America.



They are just like other people, all but the

Fee








OF CONNORLOA. 73





color. Come on, Rea. Don't be silly.
You can’t half see from there!”

But Rea was afraid. She would not
come farther than the last pillar of the
veranda. “I can see very well here,” she
said; and there she stood clinging to the
pillar. She was half afraid of the cats, too,
besides being very much afraid of the
Chinaman.

The cats’ breakfast was nearly over. In
fact, they had had their usual allowance
before Rea came down; but Ah Foo had
gone on throwing out meat for Rea to see
the scrambling. Presently he threw the
last piece, and set the empty plate up on a
shelf by the kitchen door. The cats knew
very well by this sign that breakfast was








74 THE HUNTER CATS

over; after the plate was set on that shelf,
they never had a mouthful more of meat ;
and it was droll to see the change that
came over all of them as soon as they saw
this done. In less than a second, they
changed from fierce, fighting, clawing,
scratching, snatching, miaowing, spitting,
growling cats, into quiet, peaceful cats,:
some sitting down licking their paws, or
washing their faces, and some lying out
full-length on the ground and rolling;
some walking off in a leisurely and digni-
fied manner, as if they had had all they
wanted, and wouldn’t thank anybody for

another bit of meat, if they could have it as

well as not. This was almost as funny as

the first part of it.










OF CONNORLOA. 75



After Ah Foo had set the plate in its
place on the shelf, he turned to go into the
kitchen to help about the breakfast; but just
as he had put his hand on the door-handle,
there came a terrible shriek from Rea, a
fierce sputter from one of the cats, and a
faint bark of a dog, all at once; and Ah Foo,
looking around, sprang just in time to res-
cue Fairy from the jaws of Skipper, one of
the biggest and fiercest of the cats.

Poor little Fairy, missing her mistress,
had trotted downstairs; and smelling on
the floor wherever Rea had set her feet,
had followed her tracks, and had reached

the veranda just in time to be spied by



Skipper, who arched his back, set his tail

up straight and stiff as a poker, and, making




76 THE HUNTER CATS



one bound from the ground to the mid-
dle of the veranda floor, clutched Fairy
with teeth and claws, and would have
made an end of her in less than one min-
ute if Ah Foo had not been there. But
Ah Foo could move almost as quickly as a
cat; and it was not a quarter of a second
after Fairy gave her piteous cry, when she
was safe and sound in her mistress’s arms,
and Ah Foo had Skipper by the scruff of
his neck, and was holding him high up,
boxing his ears, right and left, with blows
so hard they rang.

“Cat heap: wicked, he said...“ You
killee missy’s dog, I killee you!” and he
flung Skipper with all his might and main
through the air.






OF CONNORLOA. 77



Rea screamed, “ Oh, don’t!” She did
not want to see the cat killed, even if he
had flown at Fairy. “It will kill him,”
she cried.

Ah Foo laughed. “ Heap hard killee
cat,” he said. “Cat get nine time life
good;” and as he spoke, Skipper, after
whirling through the air in several somer-
saults, came down on his feet all right,
and slunk off into the woodpile.

“ J tellee you,” said Ah Foo, chuckling.

“Thatee isee heapee goodee manee,”
cried Jusy. “I havee learnee talkee oneee
language already!”

A roar of laughter came from the din-
ing-room window. There stood Uncle

George, holding his sides.










78 THE HUNTER CATS |



“ Bravo, Jusy!” he exclaimed. “ You
have begun on pigeon English, have you,
for the first of your nine languages ? ”

“Ts n't that Chinese?” said Jusy, much
crestfallen. :

“Oh, no!” said Uncle George, “not
by any manner of means. It is only the
Chinese way of talking English. It is
called pigeon English. But come in to
breakfast now, and I will tell you all about
my cats,—my hunting cats, I call them.
. They are just as good as a pack of hunting
dogs ; and better, for they do not need any-
body to go with them.”

How pleasant the breakfast-table looked!

—a large square table set with gay china,



pretty flowers in the middle, nice broiled






OF CONNORLOA. 79



chicken and fried potatoes, and baked
apples and cream; and Jusy’s and Rea’s
bright faces, one on Mr. Connor’s left hand,
the other on his right.

As Jim moved about the table and
waited on them, he thought to him-
self, “ Now, if this doesn’t make Mr.
George well, it will be because he can’t
be cured.”

Jim had found the big house so lonely,
with nobody in it except Mr. Connor and
the two Chinese servants, he would have
been glad to see almost anything in the
shape of a human being, — man, woman, or
child, — come there to live. How much
more, then, these two beautiful and merry

children !










80 THE HUNTER CATS

Jusy and Rea thought they had never
in all their lives tasted anything so good
as the broiled chicken and the baked
apples.

“Heapee goodee cookee, Uncle George!”
said Jusy. He was so tickled with the
Chinaman’s way of talking, he wanted to
keep doing it.

“Tooee muchee putee onee letter e,
Master Jusy,’ said Uncle George. “ After
you have listened to their talk a little
longer, you will see that they do not add
the ‘ee’ to every word. It is hard to
imitate them exactly.”

Jusy was crestfallen. He thought he
had learned a new language in half an

hour, and he was proud of it. But no new










OF CONNORLOA. 81



language was ever learned without more
trouble and hard work than that; not even

pigeon English!










III.

It had come about by. chance, Mr. Con-
nors keeping this pack of hunting cats.
_ He had been greatly troubled by gophers
and rabbits: the gophers killed his trees
by gnawing their roots; the rabbits bur-
rowed under his vines, ate the tender
young leaves, and gnawed the stems.
Jim had tried every device, —traps of all

kinds and all the poisons he could hear of.



He had also tried drowning the poor little








THE HUNTER CATS. 83







gophers out by pouring water down their
holes. But, spite of all he could do, the
whole hill was alive with them. It had
been wild ground so long, and covered
so thick with bushes, that it had been like
a nice house built on purpose for all small
wild animals to live in.

I suppose there must have been miles of
gophers’ underground tunnels, leading from
hole to hole. They popped their heads
up, and you saw them scampering away
wherever you went; and in the early
morning it was very funny to see the
rabbits jumping and leaping to get off out
of sight when they heard people stirring.
They were of a beautiful gray color, with a
short bushy tail, white at the end. On




-





$4 THE HUNTER CATS



account of this white tip to their tails, they
are called “ cotton-tails.”

When Mr. Connor first moved up on
the hill, Jim used to shoot a cotton-
tail almost every day, and some days he
shot two. The rabbits, however, are shyer
than the gophers; when they find out that
they get shot as soon as they are seen,
and that these men who shoot them have
built houses and mean to stay, they will
gradually desert their burrows and move
away to new homes:

But the gopher is not so afraid. He
lives down in the ground, and can work
in the dark as well as in the light; and
he likes roots just as well as he likes

the stems above ground; so as long as






OF CONNORLOA. 85



he stays in his cellar houses, he is hard
to reach.

The gopher is a pretty little creature,
with a striped back, — almost as pretty as a
chipmonk. It seems a great pity to have
to kill them all off; but there is no help
for it; fruit-trees and gophers cannot live
in the same place.

Soon after Mr. Connor moved into his new
house, he had a present of a big cat from
the Mexican woman who sold him milk.

She said to Jim one day, “ Have you
got a cat in your house yet?”

“No,” said Jim. “ Mr. George does not
like cats.”

“No matter,” said she, “ you have got to

have one. The gophers and squirrels in

Po










86 THE HUNTER CATS



this country are a great deal worse than
‘rats and mice. They'll come right into
your kitchen and cellar, if your back is
turned a minute, and eat you out of house
and home. I’ll give you a splendid cat.
She’s a good hunter. I’ve got more cats
than I know what to do with.”

So she presented Jim with a fine, big
black and white cat; and Jim named the
cat “ Mexican,’ because a Mexican woman
gave her to him.

The first thing Mexican did, after getting
herself established in her new home in the
woodpile, was to have a litter of kittens,
six of them. The next thing she did, as
soon as they got big enough to eat meat,

was to go out hunting for food for them ;








OF CONNORLOA. 87





and one day, as Mr. Connor was riding up
the hill, he saw her running into the wood-
' pile, with a big fat gopher in her mouth.

“Hal” thought Mr. Connor to himself.
“There ’s an idea! If one cat will kill one
gopher in a day, twenty cats would kill
twenty gophers ina day! I'll get twenty
cats, and keep them just to hunt gophers.
They ‘ll clear the place out quicker than
poison, or traps, or drowning.”

“ Jim,’ he called, as soon as he entered
the house,—“ Jim, I’ve got an idea. I
saw Mexican just now carrying a dead
gopher to her kittens. Does she kill
many?”

“ Oh, yes, sir,” replied Jim. “ Before she

got her kittens I used to see her with them








88 THE HUNTER CATS



every day. But she does not go out so
often now.”

“Good mother!” said Mr. Connor.
“Stays at home with her family, does
she 2?”

“Yes, sir,” laughed Jim; “ except when
she needs to go out to get food for
them.”

“You may set about making a collection
of cats, Jim, at once,” said Mr. Connor.
“I'd like twenty.”

Jim stared. “I thought you didn’t like
cats, Mr. George,” he exclaimed. “I was
afraid to bring Mexican home, for fear
you would n't like having her about.”

“No more do J,” replied Mr. Connor.

But I do not dislike them so much as I

__|






OF CONNORLOA. 89



dishike gophers. And don’t you see, if we
have twenty, and they all hunt gophers as
well as she does, we ‘Il soon have the place
cleared >?”

“We'd have to feed them, sir,” said Jim.
“So many’s that, they’d never make all
their living off gophers.”

“Well, we 'll feed them once a day, just
a little, so as not to let them starve. But
we must keep them hungry, or else they
won't hunt.”

eN ery well, sir,’ said Jim. «1 willset
about it at once.”

“Beg or buy them,” laughed Mr. Con-
nor. “I’ll pay for them, if I can't get
them any other way. There is room in

the woodpile for fifty to live.”










90 THE HUNTER CATS



Jim did not much like the idea of
having such an army of cats about; but
he went faithfully to work; and in a few
weeks he had seventeen. One morning,
when they were all gathered together to
be fed, he called Mr. Connor to look at
them.

“Do you think there are enough, sir?”
he said.

“Goodness! Jim,” cried Mr. Connor,
“what did you get somany for? We shall
be overrun.”

Jim laughed. “I’m three short yet, sir,
of the number you ordered,” he said.
“There are only seventeen in that batch.”

“Only seventeen! Vou are joking,

Jim,” cried Mr. Connor; and he tried to








OF CONNORLOA. gI



count; but the cats were in such a scram-

bling mass, he could not count them.
el cive it ‘up, jim; he-said- at® last:

“But are there really only seventeen?”

“That ’s all, sir, and it takes quite a lot
of meat to give them all a bite of a morn-
ing. I think here are enough to begin
with, unless you have set your heart, sir,
on having twenty. Mexican has got six
kittens, you know, and they will be big
enough to hunt before long. That will
make twenty-three.”

“Plenty! plenty!” said Mr. Connor.
“Don't get another one. And, Jim,’ he
added, “ would n’t it be better to feed them
at night? Then they will be hungry

the next morning.”






92 THE HUNTER CATS



“T_ tried. that,-sir,> said~Jim,-“-but they
did n’t seem so lively. I don’t give them
any more than just enough to whet their
appetites. At first they sat round the door
begging for more, half the morning, and I
had to stone them away; now they under-
stand it. In a few minutes, they Il all be
off; and you won't see much of any of
them till to-morrow morning. They are
all on hand then, as regular as the sun
rises.”

“Where do they sleep?” said Mr.
Connor.

“In the woodpile, every blessed cat of
them,” replied Jim. “And there are squir-
rels living in there too. It is just a kind

of cage, that woodpile, with its crooks










OF CONNORLOA. 93



and turns. I saw a squirrel going up, up,
in it the other day; I thought he’d make
his way out to the top; I thought the
cats would have cleaned them all out be-
fore this time, but they haven't; I saw
one there only yesterday.”

© Jim had counted too soon on Mexican’s
kittens. Five of them came toa sad end.
Their mother carried to them, one day, a
gopher which she found lying dead in the
road. Poor cat-mother! I suppose she
thought to herself when she saw it lying
there, “Oh, how lucky! I sha’n’t have
to sit and wait and watch for a gopher
this morning. Here is one all ready,
dead!” But that gopher had died of poi-

son which had been put down his hole ;










94 THE HUNTER CATS



and as soon as the little kittens ate it, they
were all taken dreadfully ill, and all but one
died. Either he hadn’t had so much of
the gopher as the rest had, or else he was
stronger; he lingered along in misery for
a month, as thin, wretched-looking a little
beast as ever was seen; then he began to
pick up his flesh, and finally got to be as
strong a cat as there was in the whole pack.

He was most curiously marked: in
addition to the black and white of his
mother’s skin, he had gray and yellow
mottled in all over him. Jim thought it
looked as if his skin had been painted, so
he named him Fresco.

Jim had names for all the best cats;

there were ten that were named. The










OF CONNORLOA. 95



other seven, Jim. called “ the rabble;” but
of the ten he had named, Jim grew to
be very proud. He thought they were
remarkable cats.

First there was Mexican, the original
first-comer in the colony. Then there was
Big Tom, and another Tom called China
Tom, because he would stay all the time
he could with the Chinamen. He was
dark-gray, with black stripes on him.

Next in size and beauty was a huge
black cat, called Snowball. He was
given to Mr. Connor by a miner's wife,
who lived in a cabin high up on the moun-
tain. She said she would let him have
the cat on the condition that he would con-

tinue to call him Snowball, as she had








96 THE HUNTER CATS



done: She named him Snowball, she
said, to make herself laugh every time she
called him, he being black as coal; and
there was so little to laugh at where she
lived, she liked a joke whenever she could
contrive one.

Then there was Skipper, the one who
nearly ate up Fairy that first morning; he
also was.as black as coal, and fierce as a
wolf; all the cats were more or less afraid
of him. Jim named him Skipper, because
he used to race about in trees like a squir-
rel. Way up to the very top of the big-
gest sycamore trees in the canon back of
the house, Skipper would go, and leap
from one bough to another. He was es-

pecially fond of birds, and in this way he








OF CONNORLOA. 97



caught many. He thought birds were
much better eating than gophers.

Mexican, Big Tom, China Tom, Snow-
ball, Skipper, and Fresco,—these are six
of the names; the other four were not
remarkable; they did not mean anything
in especial; only to distinguish their
owners from the rest, who had no names
at all.

Oh, yes; I am forgetting the drollest of
all: that was Humbug. Jim gave her
that name because she was so artful and
sly about getting more than her share of
the meat. She would watch for the big-
gest pieces, and pounce on them right
under some other cat’s nose, and almost

always succeed in getting them. So Jim
7






98 THE HUNTER CATS



named her Humbug, which was a very
good name; for she always pretended to
be quieter and stiller than the rest, as
if she were not in any great hurry about
her breakfast; and then she whisked in,
and got the biggest pieces, and twice as
much as any other cat there.

The other names were Jenny, Capitan,
and Growler. That made the ten.

In a very few days after Jusy and Rea
arrived, they knew all these cats’ names
as well as Jim did; and they were never
tired of watching them at their morning
meal, or while they were prowling, looking,
and waiting for gophers and rabbits.

For a long time, Rea carried Fairy tight

in her arms whenever there was a cat in








OF CONNORLOA., 99



sight; but after a while, the cats all came
to know Fairy so well that they took no
notice of her, and it was safe to put her
on the ground and let her run along. But
Rea kept close to her, and never forgot her
for a single minute.

There were many strange things which
these cats did, besides hunting the gophers.
They used also to hunt snakes. In one
of the rocky ravines near the house there
were large snakes of a beautiful golden-
brown color. On warm days these used
to crawl out, and lie sunning themselves
on the rocks. Woe to any such snake, if
one of the cats caught sight of him! Big
Tom had a special knack at killing them.

He would make a bound, and come down










100 THE HUNTER CATS



with his fore claws firm planted in the
middle of the snake’s back; then he would
take it in his teeth, and shake it, flapping
its head against the stones every time, till
it was more dead than alive. You would
not have thought that so big a snake could
have been so helpless in the claws of a
cat.

Another thing the cats did, which gave
the men much amusement, was, that when
they had killed rabbits they carried the
bodies into the mules’ stables. Mules are
terribly frightened at the smell of a dead
rabbit. Whenever this happened, a great
braying and crying and stamping would be
heard in the stables; and on running to see

what was the matter, there would be found










OF CONNORLOA. IOI



Big Tom or Skipper, sitting down calm and
happy by the side of a dead rabbit, which
he had carried in, and for some reason
or other best known to himself had de-
posited in plain sight of the mules. Why
they chose to carry dead rabbits there, un-
less it was that they enjoyed seeing the
mules so frightened, there seemed no ex-
plaining. They never took dead gophers
up there, or snakes; only the rabbits.
Once a mule was so frightened that he
plunged till he broke his halter, got free,
and ran off down the hill; and the men
had a big chase before they overtook
him.

But the queerest thing of all that hap-
pened, was that the cats adopted a skunk ;




a Pa = ee |
102 THE HUNTER CATS



or else it was the skunk that adopted the
cats; I don’t know which would be the
proper way of stating it; but at any rate
the skunk joined the family, lived with
them in the woodpile, came with them
every morning to be fed, and went off with

them hunting gophers every day. It



must have been there some time before
Jim noticed it, for when he first saw it, it
was already on the most familiar and
friendly terms with all the cats. It was a
pretty little black and white creature, and
looked a good deal like one of Mexican’s
kittens.

Finally it became altogether too friendly :

Jim found it in the kitchen cellar one day ;



and a day or two after that, it actually








OF CONNORLOA. 103



walked into the house. Mr. Connor was
sitting in his library writing. He heard
a soft, furry foot patting on the floor, and
thought it was Fairy. Presently he
looked up; and, to his horror, there was
the cunning little black and white skunk
in the doorway, looking around and sniffing
curiously at everything, like a cat. Mr.
Connor held his breath and did not dare
stir, for fear the creature should take it
into its head that he was an enemy. See-
ing everything so still, the skunk walked
in, walked around both library and dining-
room, taking minute observations of every-
thing by means of its nose. Then it softly
patted out again, across the hall, and out

of the front door, down the veranda steps.






104 THE HUNTER CATS



It had seemed an age to Mr. Connor;
he could hardly help laughing too, as
he sat there in his chair, to think how
helpless he, a grown-up man, felt before
a creature no bigger than that,—a little
thing whose neck he could wring with one
hand; and yet he no more dared to touch
it, or try to drive it out, than if it had been
a roaring lion. As soon as it was fairly
out of the way, Mr. Connor went in search
of Jim.

“Jim,” said he, “that skunk you were
telling me about, that the cats had adopted,
seems to be thinking of adopting me; he
spent some time in the library with me
this morning, looking me over; and I am

afraid he liked me and the place much too






OF CONNORLOA. 105



well. I should like to have him killed.
Can you manage it?”

“Yes, sir,’ laughed Jim. “TI was think-
ing I’d have to kill him. I caught him
in the cellar a day or two since, and I
thought he was getting to feel too much
at home. I'll fix him.”

So the next morning Jim took a particu-
larly nice and tempting piece of meat,
covered it with poison, and just as the cats’
breakfast was finished, and the cats slowly
dispersing, he threw this tidbit directly at
the little skunk. He swallowed it greed-
ily, and before noon he was dead.

Jim could not help being sorry when
he saw him stretched out stiff near his

home in the woodpile. “He was a pert






106 THE HUNTER CATS



little rascal;” said Jim. “I did kind o’
hate to kill him; but he should have stayed
with his own folks, if he wanted to be let
alone. It’s too dangerous having skunks
round.”

In less than a year’s time, there was not
a rabbit to be seen on Mr. Connor's
grounds, and only now and then a gopher,
the hunter cats had done their work
so thoroughly.

But there was one other enemy that Mr.
Connor would have to be rid of, before he
could have any great success with his fruit
orchards. You will be horrified to hear
the name of this enemy. It was the linnet.
Yes, the merry, chirping, confiding little
linnets, with their pretty red heads and



aa LT PRCA LG SAL Ee ese Ds I aes




OF CONNORLOA. 107





bright eyes, they also were enemies, and
must be killed. They were too fond of
apricots and peaches and pears and rasp-
berries, and all other nice fruits.

If birds only had sense enough, when
they want a breakfast or dinner of fruit,
to make it off one, or even two,—eat the
peach or the pear or whatever it might be
all up, as we do, — they might be tolerated
in orchards; nobody would grudge a bird
one peach or cherry. But that isn’t their
way. They like to hop about in the tree,
and take a nip out of first one, then an-
other, and then another, till half the fruit on
the tree has been bitten into and spoiled.
In this way, they ruin bushels of fruit

every season.


108 THE HUNTER CATS



“ T wonder if we could not teach the cats
to hunt linnets, Jim,” said Mr. Connor one
morning. It was at the breakfast-table.

“O Uncle George! the dear sweet little
linnets!” exclaimed Rea, ready to cry.

“Yes, my dear sweet little girl,” said



Uncle George. “The dear sweet little

linnets will not leave us a single whole



peach or apricot or cherry to eat.”



“No!” said Jusy, “they ’re a perfect
nuisance. They ’ve pecked at every apri-
cot on the trees already.”

“T don’t care,” said Rea. “ Why can’t
they have some? I’d just as soon eat

after a linnet as not. Their little bills



must be all clean and sweet. Don’t have |

them killed, Uncle George.”
OF CONNORLOA. 109



“No danger but that there will be
enough left, dear,” said Uncle George.
“However many we shoot, there will be
enough left. I believe we might kill
a thousand to-day and not know the
difference.”

The cats had already done a good deal
at hunting linnets on their own account, in
a clandestine and irregular manner. They
were fond of linnet flesh, and were only
too glad to have the assistance of an able-
bodied man with a gun.

When they first comprehended Jim's
plan,—that he would go along with his
gun, and they should scare the linnets out
of the trees, wait for the shot, watch to see

where the birds fell, and then run and pick














110 THE HUNTER CATS

them up,—it was droll to see how clever
they became in carrying it out. Retriever
dogs could not have done better. The
trouble was, that Jim could shoot birds
faster than the cats could eat them; and
no cat would stir from his bird till it was
eaten up, sometimes feathers and all; and
after he had had three or four, he didn’t
care about any more that day. To tell the
truth, after the first few days, they seemed
a little tired of the linet diet, and did not
work with so much enthusiasm. But at
first it was droll, indeed, to see their excite-
ment. As soon as Jim appeared with his
gun, every cat in sight would come scam-

pering ; and it would not be many minutes

before the rest of the band — however they








Jim AND THE CATS HUNTING LINNETS, — Page 112,




OF CONNORLOA. III



might have been scattered, — would some-
how or other get wind of what was going
on, and there would be the whole seventeen
in a pack at Jim’s heels, all keeping a
sharp lookout on the trees; then, as soon
as a cat saw a linnet, he would make for
the tree, sometimes crouch under the tree,
sometimes run up it; in either case the
linnet was pretty sure to fly out: pop,
would go Jim’s rifle; down would come
the linnet ; helter-skelter would go the cats
to the spot where it fell; and in a minute
more, there would be nothing to be seen
of that linnet, except a few feathers and
a drop or two of blood on the ground.
Jusy liked to go with Jim on these

hunting expeditions. But Rea would








I12 THE HUNTER CATS



never go. She used to sit sorrowfully at
home, and listen for the gunshots; and at
every shot she heard, she would exclaim to
Anita, “Oh, dear! Oh, dear! There’s
another dear little linnet dead. I think
Jusy is a cruel, cruel boy! I wouldn't see
them shot for anything, and I don’t like
the cats any more.”

“ But,” said Anita, “my little sefiorita
did not mind having the gophers killed.
It does not hurt the linnets half so much to
be shot dead in one second, as it does the
gophers to be caught in the cats’ claws, and
torn to pieces sometimes while they are yet
alive. The shot-gun kills in a second.”

“T don’t care,’ said Rea. “It seems

”

different ; the linnets are so pretty.










OF CONNORLOA. 113



“That is not a reason for pitying them
any more,” said Anita gravely. “You did
not find those old Indians you saw yes-
terday pretty. On the contrary, they were
frightful to look at; yet you pitied them so
much that you shed tears.”

“Oh, yes!” cried Rea, “I should think I
did; and, Anita, I dreamed about them all
night long. I am going to ask Uncle
George to build a little house for them
up in the cafion. There is plenty of room
there he does not want; and then nobody
could drive them out of that place as long
as they live; and I could carry them their
dinner every day. Don't you think he
will?”

“Bless your kind little heart!” said












114 THE HUNTER CATS



Anita. “That would be asking a great
deal of your Uncle George, but he is so
kind, perhaps he will. If somebody does
not take compassion on the poor things,
they will starve, that is certain.”

“TJ shall ask him the minute he comes
in,’ said Rea. “I am going down on the
piazza now to watch for him.” And taking
Fairy in her arms, Rea hurried downstairs,
went out on the veranda, and, climbing
up into the hammock, was sound asleep
in ten minutes.

She was waked up by feeling herself
violently swung from side to side, and
opening her eyes, saw Jusy standing by
her side, his face flushed with the heat,
his eyes sparkling.








OF CONNORLOA. I15



‘OQ -Rea!-he. said...“ We-have-had-a
splendid hunt! What do you think! Jim
has shot twenty linnets in this one morn-
ing! and that Skipper, he’s eaten five of
them! He's as good as a regular hunting
dog.”

“Where's Uncle George?” asked Rea
sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “I want Uncle
George! I don’t want you to tell me
anything about the cats’ eating the linnets.
I hate: them! They re. cruel] |

“"Tisnt cruel either!” ‘retorted Jusy.
“Ehey. ve. .got to be. killed. _ All ‘peo-
ple that have orchards have to kill
birds.”

“T won't, when I have an orchard,” said
Rea.








116 THE HUNTER CATS

“Then you won't have any orchard.
That will be all,” said Jusy. “At least,
you won't have any fruit orchard. You 'll
have just a tree orchard.”

«Well, a tree orchard is good enough for
anybody,” replied Rea half crossly She
was not yet quite wide awake. “There
is plenty of fruit in stores, to buy. We
could buy our fruit.”

“Are you talking in your sleep, Rea?”
cried Jusy, looking hard at her. “I do
believe you are! What ails you? The
men that have the fruit to sell, had to kill
all the linnets and things, just the same
way, or else they would n’t have had any
fruit. Can’t you see?”

No, Rea could not see; and what was








OF CONNORLOA. 117



more, she did not want to see; and as the
proverb says, “ There are none so blind as
those who won’t see.”

“Don’t talk any more about it, Jusy,’
she said. “Do you think Uncle George
would build a little house up the cafion for
poor old Ysidro?”

“Who!” exclaimed Jusy.

“Oh, you cruel boy!” cried Rea. “ You
don’t think of anything but killing linnets,
and such cruel things; I think you are real
wicked. Don’t you know those poor old
Indians we saw yesterday ? — the ones that
are going to be turned out of their house,
down in San Gabriel by the church. I
have been thinking about them ever since ;

and I dreamed last night that Uncle




-——_—————





118 LHE HUNTER CATS



George built them a house. I’m going to
ask him to.”

“T bet you anything he won’t, then,”
said Jusy. “The horrid old beggars!
He wouldn't have such looking things
round!”

Rea was wide awake now. She fixed
her lovely blue eyes on Jusy’s face with a
look which made him ashamed. “ Jusy,”
she said, “I can’t help it if you are older
than I am; I must say, I think you are
cruel. You like to kill linnets; and now
you won't be sorry for these poor old
Indians, just because they are dirty and
horrid-looking. You’d look just as bad
yourself, if your skin was black, and you

were a hundred years old, and had n’t got










OF CONNORLOA., 119



a penny in the world. You are real hard-
hearted, Jusy, I do think you are!” and
the tears came into Rea’s eyes.

“ What is all this?” said Uncle George,
coming up the steps. “Not quarrelling,
my little people!”

“Oh, no! no!” cried both the children
eagerly.

“T never quarrel with Rea,” added Jusy
proudly. “I hope I am old enough to
know better than that.”

“I’m only two years the youngest,” said
Rea, in a mortified tone. “I think I am
old enough to be quarrelled with; and I
do think you’re cruel, Jusy.”

This made Uncle George smile. “ Look.

out!” he said. “ You will be in a quarrel








120 THE HUNTER CATS



yet, if you are not careful. What is it,
Rea?”

While Rea was collecting her thoughts
to reply, Jusy took the words out of her
mouth.

« She thinks I am cruel, because I said I
did n't believe you would build a house for
Indians up in your cafon.”

“It was not that!” cried Rea. “You are
real mean, Jusy!”

And so I think, myself, he was. He had
done just the thing which is so often done
in this world, —one of the unfairest and
most provoking of things; he had told
the truth in such a way as to give a wrong
impression, which is not so very far differ-

ent, in my opinion, from telling a lie.



BSR EA ee]








OF CONNORLOA. 121



“ A home for Indians up in the cafion!”
exclaimed Uncle George, drawing Rea to
him, and seating her on his knee. “ Did
my little tender-hearted Rea want me to
do that? It would take a very big house,
girlie, for all the poor Indians around
here;” and Uncle George looked lovingly
at Rea, and kissed her hair, as she nestled
her head into his neck. “Just like her
mother,” he thought. “She would have
turned every house into an asylum if she
could.”

“Oh, not for all the Indians, Uncle
George,” said Rea, encouraged by his kind
smile, —“I am not such a fool as Jusy
thinks,— only for those two old ones that

are going to be turned out of their home






122 THE HUNTER CATS.



they ve always lived in. You know the
ones I mean.”

“Ah, yes,—old Ysidro and his wife.
Well, Rea, I had already thought of that
myself. So you were not so much ahead
of me.”

“There!” exclaimed Rea triumphantly,
turning to Jusy. “What do you say
now?”

Jusy did not know exactly. what. to
say, he was so astonished; and as he
saw Jim and the cats coming up the road
at that minute, he gladly took the opportu-
nity to spring down from the veranda and

run to meet them.








IV.

THE story of old Ysidro was indeed a
sad one; and I think, with Rea, that any
one must be hard-hearted, who did not pity
him. He was a very old Indian; nobody
knew how old; but he looked as if he
must be a hundred at least. Ever since
he could remember, he had lived in a little
house in San Gabriel. The missionaries
who first settled San Gabriel had given a

small piece of land to his father, and on it






124 THE HUNTER CATS



his father had built this little house of
rough bricks made of mud. Here Ysidro
was born, and here he had always lived.
His father and mother had been dead a
long time. His brothers and sisters had
all died or gone away to live in some other
place.

When he was a young man, he had
married a girl named Carmena. She
was still living, almost as old as he;
all their children had either died, or
married and gone away, and the two old
people lived alone together in the little
mud house.

They were very poor; but they man-
aged to earn just enough to keep from

starving. There was a little land around








OF CONNORLOA. 125

the house,— not more than an acre; but it
was as much as the old man could culti-
vate. He raised a few vegetables, chiefly
beans, and kept some hens.

Carmena had done fine washing for the
San Gabriel people as long as her strength
held out; but she had not been able for
some years to do that. All she could do
now was to embroider and make lace.
She had to stay in bed most of the time,
for she had the rheumatism in her legs
and feet so she could but just hobble about;
but there she sat day after day, propped up
in her bed, sewing. It was lucky that the
rheumatism had not gone into her hands,
for the money she earned by making lace

was the chief part of their living.








126 THE HUNTER CATS

Sometimes Ysidro earned a little by
days’ works in the fields or gardens; but
he was so old, people did not want him if
they could get anybody else, and nobody
would pay him more than half wages.

When he could not get anything else to
do, he made mats to sell. He made them
out of the stems of a plant called yucca;
but he had to go along way to get these
plants. It was slow, tedious work making
the mats, and the store-keepers gave him
only seventy-five cents apiece for them; so
it was very little he could earn in that
way.

Was not this a wretched life? Yet they
seemed always cheerful, and they were as

much attached to this poor little mud






OF CONNORLOA, 127



hovel as any of you can be to your own
beautiful homes.

Would you think any one could have
the heart to turn those two poor old people
out of their home? It would not seem
as if a human being could be found who
would do such a thing. But there was.
He was a lawyer; I could tell you his
true name, but I will not. He had a great
deal to do with all sorts of records and law
papers, about land and titles and all such
things.

There has always been trouble about the
ownership of land in California, because
first it belonged to Spain, and then it
belonged to Mexico; and then we fought

with Mexico, and Mexico gave it to us.








128 THE HONTER CATS



So you can easily see that where lands
are passed along in that way, through
so many hands, it might often be hard to
tell to whom they justly belonged.

Of course this poor old Ysidro did not
know anything about papers. He could
not read or write. The missionaries gave
the land to his father more than a hundred
years ago, and his father gave it to him,
and that was all Ysidro knew about it.

Well, this lawyer was rummaging
among papers and titles and maps of
estates in San Gabriel, and he found out
that there was this little bit of land near
the church, which had been overlooked by
everybody, and to which nobody had any

written title. He went over and looked




! OF CONNORLOA., 129

at it, and found Ysidro’s house on it; and
Ysidro told him he had always lived there ;
but the lawyer did not care for that.

Land is worth a great deal of money
now in San Gabriel. This little place of
Ysidro’s was worth a good many hundred
dollars; and this lawyer was determined to
have it. So he went to work in ways I can-
not explain to you, for I do not understand
them myself; and you could not under-
stand them even if I could write them
out exactly: but it was all done accord-
ing to law; and the lawyer got it decided
by the courts and the judges in San Fran-
cisco that this bit of land was his.

When this was all done, he had not quite

boldness enough to come forward himself,
9






130 THE HUNTER CATS





and turn the poor old Indians out. Even
he had some sense of shame; so he slyly
sold the land to a man who did not know
anything about the Indians being there.
You see how cunning this was of
him! When it came to the Indians being
turned out, and the land taken by the
new owner, this lawyer’s name would not
need to come out in the matter at all.
But it did come out; so that a few people
knew what a mean, cruel thing he had
done. Just for the sake of the price of an
acre of land, to turn two aged helpless peo-
ple out of house and home to starve! Do
you think those dollars will ever do that
man any good as long as he lives? No,

not if they had been a million.








OF CONNORLOA. 131



“Well, Mr. Connor was one of the per-
sons who had found out about this; and
he had at first thought he would help
Ysidro fight, in the courts, to keep his
place; but he found there would be no use
in that. The lawyer had been cunning
enough to make sure he was safe, before
he went on to steal the old Indian’s farm.
The law was on his side. Ysidro did not
really own the land, according to law,
though he had lived on it all his life,
and it had been given to his father by
the missionaries, almost a hundred years
ago.

Does it not seem strange that the law
could do such a thing as that? When the
boys who read this story grow up to be.




132 THE HUNTER CATS ]



men, I hope they will do away with these
bad laws, and make better ones.

The way Rea had found out about old
Ysidro was this: when Jim went to the
post-office for the mail, in the mornings, he
used generally to take Anita and Rea in the
wagon with him, and leave them at Anita’s
mother’s while he drove on to the post-
office, which was a mile farther.

Rea liked this very much. Anita's
mother had a big blue and green parrot,
that could talk in both Spanish and
English; and Rea was never tired of lis-
tening to her. She always carried her
sugar; and she used to cock her head on

one side, and call out, “ Sefiorita! senorita !



Polly likes sugar! sugar! sugar!” as soon

i






OF CONNORLOA. 133



as she saw Rea coming in at the door. It
was the only parrot Rea had ever seen,
and it seemed to her the most wonderful
creature in the world.

Ysidro’s house was next to Anita's
mother’s; and Rea often saw the old man
at work in his garden, or sitting on his
door-step knitting lace, with needles as fine
as pins.

One day Anita took her into the house
to see Carmena, who was sitting in bed at
work on her embroidery. When Carmena
heard that Rea was Mr. Connor’s niece,
she insisted upon giving her a beautiful
piece of lace which she had made. Anita
did not wish to take it, but old Carmena

said, ——






134 THE HUNTER CATS



“You must take it. Mr. Connor has
given us much money, and there was
never anything I could do for him. Now
if his little seforita will take this, it will
be a pleasure.”

So Rea carried the lace home, and
showed it to her Uncle George, and he
said she might keep it; and it was only
a few weeks after this that when Anita
and Rea went down to San Gabriel, one
day, they found the old couple in great
distress, the news having come that they
were going to be turned out of their
house.

And it was the night after this visit that
Rea dreamed about the poor old creatures

all night, and the very next morning that






:

OF CONNORLOA. 135



she asked her Uncle George if he would
not build them a house in his cafion.

After lunch, Mr. Connor'said to Rea, —-

“T am going to drive this afternoon,
Rea. Would you like to come with
me?”

His eyes twinkled as he said it, and Rea
cried out, —

“Oh! oh! It is to see Ysidro and
Carmena, I am sure!”

“Yes,” said her uncle; “I am going
down to tell them you are going to build
them a house.”

“ Uncle George, will you really, truly, do
it?’ said JRea.” 2.think, you’ are’ the
kindest man in all the world!” and she

ran for her hat, and was down on the










136 THE HUNTER CATS

veranda waiting, long before the horses
were ready.

They found old Ysidro sitting on the
ground, leaning against the wall of his
house. He had his face covered up with
both hands, his elbows leaning on his
knees.

“Oh, look at him! He is crying, Uncle
George,” said Rea.

“No, dear,” replied Mr. Connor. “ He



is not crying. Indian men very rarely
cry. He is feeling all the worse that he
will not let himself cry, but shuts the
tears all back.”
“ Ves, that is lots worse,” said Rea.
“How do you know, pet?” laughingly

said her uncle. “Did you ever try it? 2

Bw Gy SSS a ce nee ET






OF CONNORLOA. 137



“T’ve tried to try it,” said Rea, “and it
felt so much worse, I could n't.”

It was not easy at first to make old
Ysidro understand what Mr. Connor
meant. He could not believe that any-
body would give him a house and home
for nothing. He thought Mr. Connor
wanted to get him to come and work; and,
being an honest old fellow, he was afraid
Mr. Connor did not know how little
strength he had; so he said, —

“Sefior Connor, I am very old; I am
sick too. I am not worth hiring to
work.”

“Bless you!” said Mr. Connor. “I
don’t want you to work any more than you

do now. I am only offering you a place












138 THE HUNTER CATS



to live in. If you are strong enough to do
a day’s work, now and then, I shall pay you
for it, just as I would pay anybody else.”

Ysidro gazed earnestly in Mr. Connor's
face, while he said this; he gazed as if he
were trying to read his very thoughts.
Then he looked up to the sky, and
he said, —

“Senor, Ysidro has no words. He can-
not speak. Will you come into the house
and tell Carmena? She will not believe
if I tell it.”

So Mr. Connor and Rea went into the
house, and there sat Carmena in bed,
trying to sew; but the tears were running
out of her eyes. When she saw Mr. Con-

nor and Rea coming in at the door, she








OF CONNORLOA., 139



threw up her hands and burst out into
loud crying.

“OQ senor! sefor!” she said. “They
drive us out of our house. Can you help us?
Can you speak for us to the wicked man?”

Ysidro went up to the bed and took hold
of her hand, and, pointing with his other
hand to Mr. Connor, said, —

“ He comes from God,—the senor. He
will help us!”

“Can we stay?” cried Carmena.

Here Rea began to cry.

«Don't cry, Rea,” said Mr. Connor.
“That will make her feel worse.”

Rea gulped down her sobs, enough to
say, —

“ But she does n’t want to come into the






140 THE HUNTER CATS



canon! All she wants is tostay here! She
won't be glad of the new house.”

“Ves, she will, by and by,’ whispered
Mr. Connor. “Stop crying, that’s my
good Rea.”

But Rea could not. She stood close to
the bed, looking into old Carmena's dis-
tressed face; and the tears would come,
spite of all her efforts.

When Carmena finally understood that
not even Mr. Connor, with all his good
will and all his money, could save them
from leaving their home, she cried again as
hard as at first; and Ysidro felt ashamed
of her, for he was afraid Mr. Connor would
think her ungrateful. But Mr. Connor.

understood it very well.






OF CONNORLOA. I4I



“I have lived only two years in my
house,” he said to Rea, “and I would not
change it for one twice as good that any-
body could offer me. Think how any one
must feel about a house he has lived in all
his life.”

“But it is a horrible little house, Uncle
George,” said Rea, —“ the dirtiest hovel I
ever saw. It is worse than they are in
Italy.”

“T do not believe that makes much dif-
ference, dear,” said Uncle George. “It is
their home, all the same, as if it were large
and nice. It is that one loves.”

Just as Mr. Connor and Rea came out
of the house, who should come riding by,

but the very man that had caused all this








142 THE HUNTER CATS



unhappiness, — the lawyer who had taken
Ysidro’s land! He was with the man to
whom he had sold it. They were riding up
and down in the valley, looking over all
their possessions, and planning what big
vineyards and orchards they would plant
and how much money they would make.

When this man saw Mr. Connor, he
turned as red as a turkey-cock’s throat.
He knew very well what Mr. Connor
thought of him; but he bowed very
low.

Mr. Connor returned his bow, but with
such a stern and scornful look on his face,
that Rea exclaimed, —

“What is the matter, Uncle George?

What makes you look so?”


ee
OF CONNORLOA., 143



“That man is a bad man, dear,” he re-
plied; “and has the kind of badness I most
despise.” But he did not tell her that he
was the man who was responsible for the
Indians being driven out of their home.
He thought it better for Rea not to know it.





“ Are there different sorts of badness, —
some badnesses worse than others?” asked
Rea.

“T don’t know whether one kind is



really any worse than another,’ said Mr.
Connor. “But there are some kinds which
seem to me twice as bad as others; and
meanness and cruelty to helpless creatures
seem to me the very worst of all.”

“To me too!” said Rea. “ Like turn-

ing out poor Ysidro.”






144 THE HUNTER CATS



“Yes,” said Mr. Connor. “That is just
one of the sort I mean.”

Just before they reached the beginning
of the lands of Connorloa, they crossed
the grounds of a Mr. Finch, who had a
pretty house and large orange orchards.
Mr. Finch had one son, Harry, about
Jusy’s age, and the two boys were great
cronies.

As Mr. Connor turned the horses’ heads
into these grounds, he saw Jusy and Harry
under the trees in the distance.

“Why, there is Jusy,” he said.

“Yes,” said Rea. “ Harry came for him
before lunch. He said he had something
to show him.”

As soon as Jusy caught sight of the






OF CONNORLOA. 145



carriage, he came running towards it,
crying, —

“Oh, Uncle George, stop! Rea! come!
I ve found Snowball! Come, see him!”

Snowball had been missing for nearly a
month, and nobody could imagine what
had become of him. They finally came to
the conclusion that he must have got
killed in some way.

Mr. Connor stopped the horses; and Rea
jumped out and ran after Jusy, and Mr.
Connor followed. They found the boys
watching excitedly, one at each end of a
little bridge over the ditch, through which
the water was brought down for irrigating
Mr. Finch’s orchards. WHarry’s dogs were

there too, one at each end of the bridge,

10










146 THE HUNTER CATS



barking, yelping, watching as excitedly as
the boys. But no Snowball.

“Where is he?” cried Rea.

“In under there,” exclaimed Jusy.
“He’s got a rabbit in there; he'll be
out presently.”

Sure enough, there he was, plainly to
be heard, scuffling and spitting under the
bridge.

The poor little rabbit ran first to one
end of the bridge, then to the other, trying
to get out; but at each end he found a
dog, barking to drive him back.

Presently Snowball appeared with the
dead rabbit in his teeth. Dropping it
on the ground, he looked up at the dogs,

as; muchas: te) say, “Phere! Cant. 1






OF CONNORLOA. 147



hunt rabbits as well as you do?” Then

they all three, the two dogs and he, fell
to eating the rabbit in the friendliest
manner.

“Don’t you think!” cried Jusy. “He’s

been hunting this way, with these dogs,

all this time. You see they are so big
they can’t get in under the bridge, and
he can; so they drive the rabbits in
under there, and he goes in and gets

them. Isn’t he smart? Harry first saw

him doing it two weeks ago, he says.

He didn’t know it was our cat, and he
wondered whose it could be. But Snow-
ball and the dogs are great friends.
They go together all the time; and

wherever he is, if he hears them bark,




148 THE HUNTER CATS



he knows they ’ve started up something,
and he comes flying! I think it is just
splendid!”

“ Poor little thing!” said Rea, looking at
the fast-disappearing rabbit.

“Why, you eat them yourself!” shouted
Jusy. “You said it was as good as

chicken, the other day. It isn’t any worse



for cats and dogs to eat them, than it is
for us; is it, Uncle George?”

“T think Jusy has the best of the argu-
ment this time, pet,’ said Uncle George,
looking fondly at Jusy.

“ Girls are always that way,” said’ Harry
politely. “My sisters are just so. They
can’t bear to see anything killed.”

After this day, Rea spent most of her

dt




OF CONNORLOA. 149



time in the cafion, watching the men at
work on Ysidro’s house.

The cafion was a wild place; it was a
sort of split in the rocky sides of the
mountain; at the top it was not much
more than two precipices joined together,
with just room enough for a brook to come
down. You can see in the picture where

it was, though it looks there like little



more than a groove in the rocks. But it
was really so big in some places that huge
sycamore trees grew in it, and there were
little spaces of good earth, where Mr.
Connor had planted orchards.

It was near these, at the mouth of the

cafion, that he put Ysidro’s house. It was



built out of mud bricks, called adobe, as

a






150 THE HUNTER CATS



near as possible like Ysidro’s old house, —
two small rooms, and a thatched roof made
of reeds, which grew in a swamp.

But Mr. Connor did not call it Ysidro’s
house. He called it Rea’s house; and the
men called it “the sefiorita’s house.” It
was to be her own, Mr. Connor said, — her
own to give as a present to Ysidro and
Carmena.

When the day came for them to move -
in, Jim went down with the big wagon,
and a bed in the bottom, to bring old
Carmena up. There was plenty of room
in the wagon, besides, for the few little bits
of furniture they had.

Mr. Connor and Jusy and Rea were at

the house waiting, when they came. The










OF CONNORLOA. 15]



cook had made a good supper of meat and
potato, and Rea had put it on the table, all
ready for them.

When they lifted Carmena out of the
wagon, she held, tight clutched in her
hand, a small basket filled with earth; she
seemed hardly willing to let go of it for a
moment.

“What is that?” said Jusy.

“A few handfuls of the earth that was
ours,” replied Ysidro. “We have brought
it with us, to keep it always. The man
who has our home will not miss it.”

The tears came into Mr. Connor's eyes,
and he turned away.

Rea did not understand. She looked
puzzled; so did Jusy.










TQ oe | THE HUNTER CATS



Jim explained. “The Indian women
often do that,” he said. “ When they have
to move away from a home they love they
carry a little of the earth with them; some-
times they put it in a little bag, and wear
it hanging on their necks; sometimes they
put it under their heads at night.”

“Yes,” said Carmena, who had. listened
to what Jim said. “One can sleep better
on the earth that one loves.”

colisay, Neal» ened Jusy. shame they had to come away!”

“T told you so, Jusy,” said Rea gently.
“ But you did n’t seem to care then.”

“Well, Ido now!” he cried. “I didn’t
think how bad they ’d feel. Now if it were
in Italy, I’d go and tell the King all about |






OF CONNORLOA. , 153



it. Who is there to tell here?” he con-
tinued, turning to his Uncle George.
“Who is there here, to tell about such
things? There must be somebody.”

Mr. Connor smiled sadly. “ The trouble
is, there are too many,” he said.

“Who is above all the rest?” persisted
Jusy. “Isn't there somebody at the top,
as our King is in Italy?”

“Yes, there is one above all the rest,”
replied Mr. Connor. “We call him the
President.”

“Well, why don’t you write and tell him
about Ysidro?” said Jusy. “I wish I

could see him, I’d tell him. It’s a

shame!”
“Even the President could not help this,






154 THE HUNTER CATS



Jusy,’. said Mr. Connor. “The law was
against poor Ysidro; there was no help;
and there are thousands and thousands of
Indians in just the same condition he is.”

“ Does.n't the President make the laws?”
said Jusy.

“No,” said Mr. Connor. “Congress
makes the laws.”

“Oh,” said Jusy, “like our Parliament.”

“Ves,” said Mr. Connor.

Jusy said no more; but he thought of
little else all the afternoon; and at bedtime
he said to Rea, —

“Rea, I am real sorry I didn’t care
about those old Indians at first, when
you did. But I’m going to be good to

them now, and help them all I can; and






OF CONNORLOA. 155



I have made up my mind that when I am
a man I shall not go to Italy, as I said
I would, to be an officer for the King. I
shall stay here, and be an officer for the
American President, instead; and I shall
tell him about Ysidro, and about all the

rest of the Indians.”

There is nothing more to be told about
the Hunter Cats. By degrees they dis-
appeared: some of them went to live at
other houses in the San Gabriel Valley ;
some of them ran off and lived a wild
life in the cafions; and some of them,
I am afraid, must have died for want of

food.








156 THE HUNTER CATS.



Rea was glad when they were all gone;
but Jusy missed the fun of seeing them
hunt gophers and linnets. :

Perhaps, some day, I shall write another
story, and tell you more about Jusy and
Rea, and how they tried to help the

Indians.

SMR
Nera te
PTD ea a
i re Ht a
A
COCA RAC
nt ia H
we
FMT
ei

Ha
E



MATS MADE BY YSIDRO. — Page 1264,
“Hats CAT STORIES.

ty a hy ee
i x

aly 3

| : /

"

‘

! iy
ai |:
U

















Published by her Mistress for the Benefit of all Cats and the Amuse
ment of Little Children. With seventeen Illustrations by ADDIE LEDYARD
Small quarto. Cloth, black and gold cover. Price $1.25



ROBERTS BROTHERS, /udblishers.




—_

MAMMY TITTLEBACK AND HER FAMILY

A TRUE STORY OF SEVENTEEN CATS.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY ADDIE LEDYARD.

Small quarto. Cloth, black and gold cover. Price $1.25.

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Publishers.
Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications,

Blis OF TALK

ABOUT HOME MATTERS.
By H. H.





Autor of “ Verses,” and * Bits of Travei” Sguars
1870. Cloth, red edges. Price, $1.00.



“A New Gospet ror Moruers. — We wish that every mother In
the land would read ‘ Bits of Talk about Home Matters,’ by H. H., and
that they would read it thoughtfully. The latter suggestion is, however,
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only startling truths presented with direct earnestness can do... . The
adoption of her sentiments would wholly change the atmosphere in many
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“In the little book entitled ‘ Bits of Talk,’ by H. H., Messrs. Roberts
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Sold everywhere. Mailed, post-paid, by the pub-
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Birs OF TRAVEL AT HOME
By H. H.
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es

“Mrs. Helen Hunt is too well and favorably known to need introduction to
American readers. Her poems are among the most thoughtful, vigorous, and
truly imaginative this country has produced. She is a poet to the manner born,
and something of the poetic touch and quality enters into her prose writings. Her
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she intersperses her sketches of nature with cha-ming pictures of human life on
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in a meadow, which the reader lingers over, and the reviewer longs to pluck for a
bouquet of quotations. It isa charming book for summer reading, and will make
many a dull day brighter by its vivacity and beauty. She gives five sunrises from
her calendar in Colorado, and closes her volume as follows: ‘O emperor, wilt
thou not build an eastern wing to thy palace and set thy bed fronting the dawn!
And by emperor I mean simply any man to whom it is given to make himself'a
home ; and by palace I mean any house, however small, in which love dwells and
bn which the sun can shine.’ — WV. VY. Express.

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“The descriptions of American scenery in this volume indicate the imagination
of a poet, the eye of an acute observer of Nature, the hand of an artist, and the
heart of a woman.

“ H. H.’s choice of words is of itself a study of color. Her picturesque diction
rivals the skill of the painter, and presents the woods and waters of the Great
West with a splendor of illustration that can scarcely be surpassed by the bright-
est glow of the canvas. Her intuitions of character are no less keen than het
perceptions of Nature.” — WV. V. Tribune.

age
Our publications are to be had of all Booksellers. When
not to be found, send directly to

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.
Messrs. Roberts Brothers Publications.





NELLY’s SILVER MINE.
By H. H.

With Illustrations. 16mo, cloth. Price $1.50.



“ The sketches of life, especially of its odd and out-of-the-way aspects, by H. H.
4lways possess so vivid a reality that they appear more like the actual scenes than
any copy by pencil or photograph. They form a series of living pictures, radiant
‘vith sunlight and fresh as morning dew. In this new story the fruits of her fine
genius are of Colorado growth, and though without the antique flavor of her recol-
Jections of Rome and Venice, are as delicious to the taste as they are tempting to
the eye, and afford a natural feast of exquisite quality”’— MV. Y. Tribune.

“This charming little book, written for children’s entertainment and instruc-
tion, is equally delightful to the fathers and mothers. It is life in New England,
and the racy history of a long railway journey to the wilds of Colorado. The
children are neither imps nor angels, but just such children as are found iu every
happy home. The pictures are so graphically drawn that we feel well acquainted
with Rob and Nelly, have travelled with them and climbed mountains and found
silver mines, and know all about the rude life made beautiful by a happy family,
and can say of Nelly, with their German neigl:bor, Mr. Kleesman, ‘ Ach well, she
haf better than any silver mine in her own self.’ ”” — Chicago Inter-Ocean.

“©In *Nelly’s Silver Mine’ Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson has given us a true
classic for the nursery and the school-room, but its readers will not be confined to
any locality. Its vivid portraiture of Colorado life and its truth to child-nature
give it a charm which the most experienced cannot fail to feel. It will stand by
the side of Miss Edgeworth and Mrs. Barbauld in all the years to come.” — Mrs.
Caroline H. Dail.

* We heartily commend the book for its healthy spirit, its lively narrative, and
its freedom from most of the faults of books for children.” — Atlantic Monthly.

—

Our publications are to be had of all Booksellers. When
not to be found, send directly to

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.
Messrs. Roberts Brothers’ Publications.

_——————

VERS ESS,

By H. H.





A New Enlarged Edition. Square 18mo. Untform with
“ Bits of Talk” aud“ Bits of Travel.” Price $1.00.



* The volume is one which will make H.H. dear to all the lovers of true
poetry. Its companionship will be a delight, its nobility of thought and of purpose
an inspiration. . . . This new edition comprises not only the former little book
with the same modest title, but as many more new poems. .. . The best critics
have already assigned to H. H. her high place in our catalogue of authors. She
is, without doubt, the most highly intellectual of our female poets. . . . The new
poems, while not inferior to the others in point of literary art, have in them more
of fervor and of feeling ; more of that lyric sweetness which catches the attention
and makes the song sing itself over and over afterwards in the remembering brain.
. . . Some of the new poems seem among the noblest H. H. has ever written.
They touch the high-water mark of her intellectual power, and are full, besides, of
passionate and tender feeling. Among these is the ‘ Funeral March.’?”—™. FY.
‘Tribune.

‘*A delightful book is the elegant little volume of ‘ Verses,’ by H. H.,~
instinct with the quality of the finest Christian womanhood. . . . Some wives and
mothers, growing sedate with losses and cares, will read many of these ‘ Verses’
with a feeling of admiration that is full of tenderness.” — Advazce.

“The poems-of this lady have taken a place in public estimation perhaps
higher than that of any living American poetess. .. . They are the thoughts of
a delicate and refined sensibility, which views life through the pure, still atmos
phere of religious fervor, and unites all thought by the tender talisman of love.” —
tnter-Ocean.

“ Since the days of poor ‘L. E. L.,’ no woman has sailed into fame under a
flag inscribed with her initials only, until the days of ‘H. H.’ Here, however,
the parallelism ceases; for the fresh, strong beauty which pervades these ‘ Verses’
‘as nothing in common with the rather languid sweetness of the earlier writer.
Unless I am much mistaken, this enlarged volume, double the size of that origi-
nally issued, will place its author not merely above all American poetesses and al}
jiving English poetesses, but above ali women who have ever written poetry in
the English language, except Mrs. Browning alone. ‘H. H.’ has not yet proved
herself equal to Mrs. Browning in range of imagination ; but in strength and depth
the American writer is quite the equal of the English, and in compactness and
symmetry cltogether her superior.” — 7. WW. A. tn The Index.

Sold by all booksellers. Mailed, post-paid, by the Pub

dishers.
ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston.
PENELOPE PRIG

AND OTHER STORIES.

?



AUTHOR OF “DEAR DAUGHTER DOROTHY,” “BETTY A BUTTERILY,
“THE LITTLE SISTER OF WILIFRED,” “ROBIN’S RECRUIT,”
“RAGS AND VELVET GOWNS.”

Mlustrated by the author.
12mo. Clotk. Price, $1.00.

ROBERTS BROTHERS, Pustisuers, Boston, Mass.
UNIFORM LIBRARY EDITIONS

MRS. EWING’S STORIES.

IN TEN VOLUMES.



JAN OF THE WINDMILL.

A Story of the Plains. With illustrations by Mrs. ALLINGHAM.
16mo. Cloth. 50 cents. ‘

SIX TO SIXTEEN.

A Story for Girls. With 10 illustrations by HELEN PATTERSON.
16mo. Cloth. 50 cents.

A GREAT EMERGENCY, and Other Tales.

With illustration. 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents.

WE AND THE WORLD.
A Story for Boys. With ro illustrations. 16mo. Cloth. so cts.

MRS. OVERTHEWAY’S REMEMBRANCES.

Ten illustrations. t6mo. Cloth. 5octs. A Series of Short
Stories which are supposed to be told by a nice old lady to a little
girl invalid.

JACKANAPES, and Other Tales.

Comprising “ Jackanapes,” ‘“ Daddy Darwin’s Dovecot,” and
“The Story of a Short Life.” With a sketch of Mrs. Ewing’s
Life, by her sister, Horatia K. F. Gatty. With portrait and illus-
trations. 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents.

MELCHIOR’S DREAM, BROTHERS OF PITY, and
Other Tales.
With illustrations. 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents.
LOB LIE-BY-THE-FIRE, THE BROWNIES, and
Other Tales.
With illustrations by George Cruikshank. 16mo. Cloth.
50 cents.

A FLATIRON FOR A FARTHING.

With illustrations. 16mo. Cloth. 50 cents.

LAST WORDS.

A Final Collection of Stories. With illustrations by H. D.
MurpHyY. 16mo. 50 cents.

















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