Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Vol. 5

d tragical deaths; so out of the long list of cats whom I have lo

e white one, who would live in the coal-bin, was a failure, and we never repeated the experiment. Black

ng down the street in the most composed and dignified manne

lar number, till, coming to our gate, he pushed it open, and walked in. Straight up to

evidently the right place, and, following me into the parlor, he perched himself on the rug, blinked at the fire, looked r

place suits me, and

satin; his tail like a graceful plume, and his eyes as round and yellow as two little moons. His paws were very dainty, and white socks and gloves, with a neat collar and shirt-bosom, gave hi

d pensively at the fire, as if unconscious of our praises; crouched like a tiger about to spring, and glared, and beat the floo

greater desolation and terror to the souls of his serfs, than this royal

my best bonnet-box, and bring up their interesting young families in the storeroom,

used in their revels, and felt that their day was over. Czar did not know what fear was, and flew at the biggest, fiercest rat that dared to show his lon

greeable to have an excited cat bounce into your lap, lugging a half-dead rat in his mouth; or to have vi

for a certain fat cushion suited him for a pillow, and, having coolly pulled out all the pins, the rascal would lay hi

ues; but in the winter we lost him, for, alas! he found his

he shed-roof, a big bull-dog entered the yard, and basely attacked him in the rear. Taken by surprise, the dear fellow did his best, and hit out bravely, till he

the poor Czar to me. What would have become of me I don't know, for the dog was in a rage,

h vials of wrath upon his head as I took up my bleeding pet, an

ion, patient and quiet, with his torn neck tied up in a soft bandage, a saucer of crea

of conversation, I thought I heard a plaintive mew, but could not go to see, and soon forgot all about i

-by, and with a farewell mew had died before the

e to take his place, though she never filled it. Blot's career was a sad and b

in a newspaper, bore the muddy little beast away in triumph. Being washed and dried, she turned out a thin black kit, with dirty blue bow

s, quaked when I touched her, took her food by stealth, and sat in a forlorn bunch in cold nooks, down cellar or behind the gate, mewing despondently to herself, as if her woes must find a vent. She would not be easy and comfortable. No cushion co

ome and be cuddled, she retreated to the hearth, and when I pursued her, meaning to catch and pet her, she took a distracted skip right into a bed

said a strong-minded friend; and quenched little Bl

dear a long farewell, confided her to old MacCarty for burial. He was my sexton, and I could trust h

a fat, cosey old mamma you never saw, and her first appe

e bits of carpet were kept there, but we never expected to let that small mansion till

y, jet-black kits. Such a confiding puss I never met, for when I started back, surprised, Mrs. B

t, and pay rent by allowing you t

ed for some months, with her children growing up around

n the door of her house, and they lived on most comfortably together, even after they grew

ifferent ways. Cuddle Bunch had a fit, and fell out of the window, killing herself instantly. Othello, her brother, was

y chloroformed out of life. Mother Bunch still remained, and often used to go and sit

onored father, who did not appreciate the dears, resolved to clear the house of the whole family; so he packed them in a basket, and carried them "over the hills and far away," like the "Babes in the Wood." Comin

hem in peace, and even when the mamma alone remained,

e Mother Bunch to the care of a kind neighbor, who promised to guard h

s old

s no more. It seems the dear thing pined for her old home

r her, and let her go. A storm came on, and when they went to see what had become of her, they

it some time, but the next Christmas I made it into muffs for several dolls, who were sent me to dress; and

d to rejoice the hearts of several small friends with dolls in full winter costume. I am sure

him the Imp. He tumbled into the garret one day through a broken scuttle, a

whole night, giving him air and light, food and comfort, through a little

to the soft-soap barrel, and was fished out a deplorable spectacle. He was half

in temper, but bit and scratched if touched, worried the bows off our slippers in his play, and

nd the green one was always half shut, as if he was winking at you, which gave him a rowdy air comical to see. Then

cousin of ours told us he wanted a black cat, without a single

a cousin was going to send puss off on a voyage, unknown to any one but the friend who took him, and when th

sailed away packed up in an old fishing-basket

dian too ill to keep him safe and quiet, so the irrepressible fellow escaped from prison, and betrayed

they had the best of it, for the weather happened to improve, and the rest of the voyage was prosperous

ate, but did not mourn him long, for he had no

ally did feel as if there was something uncanny about them after my tragica