Chapter XXV: Eventide 261 (8)

It is certain that the family never had truer friends than this dog and cat. They all remember them, and count them with those loved ones of whom it is so comforting to say, "Not lost, but gone before."

XXIII

THE STORY OF BLACKIE

One of our friends boarded in a family where cats were treated in a cruel manner. Often when my mistress visited her, the tales of woe about poor, ill-used cats made her very sad. Cats always found our friend's room, and proved very loving and grateful for her care. She kept them in her room all she could, always feeding them; and as she had her meals sent to her rooms, she had pieces of meat and always a plenty of milk to give them, and they were very thankful; they loved her dearly. She said they were hunted about, and never knew what it was to have a kind word spoken to them.

One nice cat had several kittens that were kept for the little son of the family to abuse. One of them ran away from him, and was jammed into the crack of a door and killed. Another had its back broken under the rockers of a chair; while the boy had the third one by the tail, swinging it about, banging its head against door-steps, till its feeble moans made the neighbors call to him; and as he paid no heed to them, one good-hearted Irish girl rushed out and, with a good shake, took the kitten in, and ended its sufferings in a pail of water. You do not often see a real, true-hearted Irish girl that is cruel to animals.

The mother of that boy never noticed any complaints made to her of her child's cruelty to animals. She allowed him to do as he pleased with his living playthings, regardless of their suffering.

At last the cat ran away or was stolen, and my mistress's friend said she hoped they would never have another.

A little sister had been born, and at an early age developed the same cruel traits that made her brother a terror to all animals. At last, after some months, they had a black kitten given them. She was about six months old, a beautiful black, and she had very sharp claws. Though the boy was obliged to keep away from her,--for she defended herself with her sharp claws,--her life was wretched. The first lesson she learned was to defend herself, and look upon every one as her enemy.

She had not one friend. No one ever spoke a kind word to her, and she was given wretched food and bones, for the boy devoured every scrap usually given to a cat. Then she was hunted into the cellar to find rats, and her life was one long punishment. No resting place, no nice corner, or bed to call her own--she was an object of pity indeed.

At last a gleam of light dawned on her darkened life. A mouse had been heard in the room of our friend, and Blackie was sent up to catch it. She cowered down in one corner, trembling all over, not knowing what would be done to her. When the lady took her on her lap, smoothed her soft fur, she seemed to realize that there was something besides kicks and blows for her. When laid on a soft wool shawl on the lounge, she testified her delight by "kneading up bread" on the shawl with her claws, till she was tired, then purred out her satisfaction, and at last indulged in a good sleep, though starting and trembling at every sound, for cats are all nerves and sensitive in the highest degree. That night she caught a mouse, and after that was allowed to sleep in the room for a long time, and she effectually cleared the place of them.

When she slept downstairs again our friend had given them a box for her to sleep in, with old blanket pieces folded to make her comfortable. This was to be kept in the passageway just out of the kitchen, that she might keep the rats away.

She had got so attached to her friend by this time that she did not relish being out of her room at all, and early in the morning she would be up at the door, crying like a child to be let in, if the door was closed.

It was a very great trial to this kind-hearted lady, for she could not keep Blackie all the time, and knowing she would be away in summer some months, she was very unhappy about leaving Blackie. She tried to interest the people in the house in her, but it was of no use. The mistress of the house hated Blackie, frequently threatening to get rid of her. She dared not offend her boarder, so she contented herself with abuse of the poor cat on the sly. She did not half feed her, but the cat knew where she could always get food, for the kind friend would buy meat for her and feed her well. Blackie turned from them all. She did not believe in any one but her kind friend, so it was impossible to help her.

All the lady could do when she went away was to speak for her to all of the people she could in the house, and to give the servants money to buy meat and to be kind to her. But she always left with a heavy heart.

At last Blackie was to have her first kittens. She, with that rare instinct that cats have at such times, established herself on the lounge in her friend's room, and if not forcibly removed, would ignore her hunger rather than go down in quest of food. She was determined her kittens should be born in luxury and under the care of her kind friend. Her friend did not fail her. She provided a nice box, all lined and made soft inside; and although she could not have it in her room, she went down every night to see that Blackie was made comfortable.

Poor Blackie! She had a determined will, and escaped from her box the night her kittens were born, and got up to her friend's door, where she cried, and then lay down as near the door as she could, and bore her pains in silence, like the patient creature she was.

As soon as morning came she was carried down and put in her nice box with the seven little kittens she had borne. Her friend took care that they disposed of them humanely, keeping only one. Blackie never rested till she brought up that kitten and laid it in a large chair; then she felt relieved. She would take it up the two flights of stairs, then put it down at her friend's door, while she mewed and scratched till it was opened to her. She was very happy with her dear little kitten, and truly it was a lovely little creature--a real tiger-striped gray.

Blackie was perfectly at home; she cast off the care of her kitten, and rested and got up her strength in this peaceful element. She had avoided the boy tyrant and hid her kitten away from him, and his mother dared not help him find it, fearing Blackie's friend.

The kitten was just the smartest little creature. She soon got big enough to go up to her friend's door, and mew just like her mother, and she cuffed and fought Blackie in a way that proved she would be able to defend herself. Her mother was not so fond of her after she began to show her independence. She tried to keep her in subjection, but found her to be unmanageable. When she went out to parties nights, her mother was very morose over it; and when her first kittens were born, she disowned her altogether. She never would stay in the room with her.

The little kittens were all four allowed to live, and were around the kitchen, under people's feet, abused by the children, and Kitty Gray, as the friend called her, was just wild to get them up into her room. But Blackie, their grandmother, drew the line here. She stood on the stairs, and Kittie Gray with her "No Name Series" (as Miss Milly called the kittens) were never allowed up there.

Poor Kittie Gray! She could not understand it. She had had such a happy childhood, and now the change was fearful. From a bright, happy cat she became a snappish, nervous creature, all the time in fear for her kittens. Sometimes Blackie did try to save the poor little creatures from the children, but it was of no use. Their mother hated her because she had defended herself from that boy, and they kicked and cuffed her till she was obliged to abandon the wretched little creatures to their fate, and the boy and girl tortured them just as they pleased. Their mother said Blackie was a thief, stealing things to eat all the time, and she hated her. She said, as soon as her kittens were born, she would get rid of her.

When the good friend of Blackie heard of it, she talked seriously to the woman. She told her that with her feelings she never ought to keep a cat. She said that Blackie had well paid for her home in keeping them free from rats. She said, "The cat would not steal if you would give her enough to satisfy her hunger." Then she tried superstition as a reason to be kind to her.

"She is a black cat," she said, "and they are supposed to have the power of making or injuring your fortunes. There are people who would never dare turn a black cat from their home, and would consider it a mark of good fortune to have one an inmate of their family. If you get rid of Blackie, you will never prosper. At least," she said, "have it done mercifully."

It did seem as if poor Blackie knew she was doomed. She never was like herself. Though she would go up to her friend's room and cry to be let in, she was very unhappy, and if any friends came in, she would run and hide, instead of remaining to be noticed as she had before. She was the most wretched cat, and all the petting her friend gave her was no comfort to her. She had a premonition of her fate. Kitty Gray dared not go near her, and it was between two fires that their kind friend lived at this time.

She was away for two days, but the servant had promised to look after the cats and earn the money given her for that purpose. On the lady's return at night, as she had company, she had no chance to ask after Blackie. In the morning no little voice greeted her; and later, when she opened her door, Kitty Gray crept in alone. She looked frightened, and began hunting around the room, mewing piteously. She was dazed, poor little creature! by the scene she had witnessed.

The lady said all at once a faintness came over her, and as she fell back on the lounge she seemed to realize what had taken place. She had not believed they would dare do this thing. She rang the bell several times; then the servant came up, looking very much frightened.

"Maggie," said the lady, "where is Blackie?"

The girl hesitated, but at last said, "She is given away."

"That is not true; I want the whole story," said our friend.

Maggie then said she had promised not to speak of Blackie.

"Very well; you can send Miss M. to me, if she is in the house."

Very soon the young lady from the next room came in. She said: "I was just coming in to tell you this sad story. I leave the house next week to go West. Had I not proposed going there, I should not have remained in this house another day. As it is, I have never been downstairs since you left, and I never shall go to that table again."

Then she told her story. She said the night after our friend went away she saw Blackie at her door, and petted her and carried her down to her box and helped the girl give her some food. In the morning she did not get down to the table till late, and then there seemed something very unusual in the atmosphere of the house. She went out as usual to see Blackie, but the mistress of the house shut the door, saying, "That old black cat is dead, and I want to hear nothing about her." The young lady said she was so faint she ran upstairs to her room and burst out crying.

Later, when the servant girl came up, she made her tell the story. She said the girl had been told that if she should let Blackie's friend know how she died, that she should lose her place, but the girl said, "I don't care. I hate her; and as soon as I can I will leave here."

She said Blackie had four kittens. As soon as the last one was born, and poor Blackie lay back exhausted, this fiend in human shape, this cruel woman, took her and thrust her into a tub of water, holding her down with all her strength till her struggles and shrieks ended. It was a wholesale slaughter. Next she put the two good-sized kittens of Kitty Gray in, and then the four helpless ones of Blackie. The boy and girl looked on, dancing and yelling till the cries of the kittens were all still.

The girl said she thought _Hell_ could not be worse than that scene. They were thrown into the city cart, a dreadful sight, and one calculated to harden the hearts of the children, who looked on at the exhibition of these neglected remains.

The lady was speechless. She said she could not bear even to see Kitty Gray, and she wished the poor little creature had been destroyed with the others. She wrote a note, giving a week's notice that her rooms would be at liberty, sent for a carriage, and left the house. She sent a friend to pack her things, and never entered the house again. But she wrote a note to the woman, saying that she knew the laws of the land did not punish such crimes, but she said: "God will avenge that poor black creature; and the sight that you allowed your children to look upon, of wholesale cruelty, will prove a curse to them. You will never prosper."

And she never has. The loss of her two best boarders, then the sickness and death of her husband, the children both of them with some troublesome disease all the time, filled her cup of woe. In one year's time her house was empty, and she was obliged to give it up. Wherever she is, the curse she brought on herself, in the murder of Blackie, will follow her forever; and she will yet see her children made to suffer for the cruel natures she encouraged in them.

Many a murderer can trace back his first wrong act to just such crimes as this one. The first lessons in cruelty are the ones to be dreaded; the children cannot reason, and they follow the example of those older than themselves, and their hearts harden, and no later instructions will ever counteract their influence. And soon the teaching in our institutions supplement their home lessons of cruelty, and they are ready for the pastime of vivisection. No wonder that they are adepts in this criminal abuse of creatures in their power. And God suffers it just as he allows men and women to follow their wicked natures and commit crimes for which they have to pay the penalty. I heard my mistress say this, and I did comprehend it; therefore I do not hesitate to write it even if it does sound too deep for a cat. There are cats--and _cats_, and I am of the second kind.

I have told you the story of Blackie that you may know what is passing around you all the time. It is heartrending to see the poor cats stealing about, trembling and hiding at the sound of a footstep. Half starved and homeless, what can they do but steal, to satisfy the pangs of hunger? Think how many people steal dress and jewels to decorate their sinful bodies, while cats are satisfied with the forms and clothes their Maker gave them; and they keep themselves clean without the expense of a ticket to the public bath-houses.

There is much said about not giving to the poor, for fear of encouraging laziness. There, again, cats are superior to the human race. You never find a lazy cat. Give a cat a home, enough to eat, and then give her work to do, to clear your house of rats, and she will spend days patiently watching, allowing nothing to divert her attention till she has accomplished her task, and the rats are all killed or driven away.

And they feel well paid by kind words. Cats are invaluable to amuse babies, if you will trust them. I heard a lady say that her baby she left for hours, with the cat sitting on its little crib. She did not like the idea of nurse bottles, as she nursed her baby (that being the fashion at that time); and as baby must have something to go to sleep on, she made of pounded cracker and sugar a pap and put it into little pieces of muslin tied around with a string. It was about as big as a cherry, and the long ends of muslin would prevent the baby from swallowing it. He would go off to sleep contentedly with that comforter in his mouth. Nino had looked on with wide open eyes and even ventured to smell of the little comforters.

One day, hearing the baby cry after a good long hour's sleep, the mother went in, and saw one of the funniest sights. She said the baby was crying, but Nino was lying on her side, with the little comforter in her mouth. From the noise she made and the satisfied expression on her face there is no doubt she enjoyed it, just as one does a new discovery in cooking. When her mistress took it away from her, she made great resistance. After that, when the baby had his comforter, she always laid a fresh one by the side of Nino--a very satisfactory move for her.

She trusted Nino with the children, and Pussy seemed to find as much pleasure in playing with them as she would have found with cats. There was never any nice thing given to the children of which Nino was not given her portion. They never enjoyed their own unless Nino had her full share.

Cats are invaluable in stores. There is no doubt they often prevent robberies and protect their master's property. In a grocery store they do good service. They keep away rats and save a great deal from destruction.

A nice grocer told my mistress that he would not take any sum of money for his cat. He had a very large gray cat, and he might always be seen walking about as if master of the store. His bright ribbon bow on his neck made him doubly attractive to all the children around. He walked over the boxes and cases, with velvet paws, and never was known to break or destroy anything. He would lie quite happy in the window where the sun came on him and would sleep for hours. But let any one presume on his not hearing, and he would find a very wide-awake cat.

Dick never allowed cats to visit at the store. He would drive them out with tooth and nail. But he evidently visited his own friends, for some days he would be away for hours, though he never was absent nights, his master seeing that Dick was in his box, on his rug, before he closed the store.

The grocer's daughter was very fond of cats, and Dick was a prime favorite. One evening, on returning home, she found a little kitten on the doorstep. It was not more than two days old. It appealed to her heart at once, and she decided to keep it. She gave it some milk in a saucer, but it did not know how to lap it, and she gave it a few drops on her finger. From the way it drew her finger into its mouth she got an idea. She had seen dolls' nurse bottles, and she bought one, filled it with milk just warm, and the little kitten took to it at once. It was so happy, sleeping peacefully with that bottle in its mouth, that every one who saw it was delighted. One friend suggested that the girl should exhibit the kitten in the window of her father's store.

It was a dear little black and white kitten, and lying in a basket lined with blue, a blue ribbon on its neck, and the nurse bottle in its mouth, it was a lovely sight. A place was made in the large window, a big box put in, and the basket put on it, and then the crowd were treated to this little show. Not only children, but men and women, crowded the sidewalk; and the exclamations of delight and admiration proved how deep a hold cats have on real true hearts. The grocer facetiously reminded them that as they had all enjoyed this free show, they might now come in and patronize him, saying milk was expensive, and nurse bottles consumed a great deal of the best; that now he had an extra mouth to feed, he must get more custom. His joke was appreciated, and in a very few days he found that the increase of trade, due to the charming picture in his window, was really worth the experiment. And after the people had once bought of him, his kind heart and the very nice quality of his goods made them friends and customers from that time.

But Dick! Wasn't he as mad as a March hare. He looked upon the nurse bottle as an infernal machine, and the little orphan as a fraud. He would not go near the basket, but took a seat where he could measure every drop of milk that was consumed; and although he had always scorned milk as too weak for him, he would hang around the milk-can, and once, when it was not given to him, he threw over the can, spilling all the milk, and then walked away, as if to say, "Now I hope you will give me my share." And they never after that overlooked him, for he developed quite a love for what he had before despised.

His master said he had every reason to be grateful to cats as well as fond of them, for they cleared his store of rats; and one large yellow cat he had when he first kept a store, had saved him from being robbed. The thief had got in through a window, and had made some excellent selections from the boxes and cases, when the cat, seated on a high shelf, knocked over a tin cracker box, and that fell against another, and down went the whole shelf of tins, with a noise like thunder. The man fled, leaving his tools behind him, probably thinking the store was filled with armed men. Pretty good work for one cat!

It seems to me the best combination a safe could have would be a dog and a cat. At the least provocation they would fight, and this would intimidate intruders.

XXIV

RETRIBUTION

A great deal has been said about chloroforming animals. I should prefer this mode of leaving the world to any other. Miss Eleanor was so unhappy over hanging, that the desire to have criminals disposed of in that way was one of her often expressed wishes. If it must be that one murder should follow another,--"a life for a life,"--why should it be a cruel one? Justice would be satisfied.

Miss Milly said, "Oh, that would not be satisfactory to those who delight in punishing their fellow-creatures."

While the law will allow such exhibitions, reserved seats, and tickets to witness the taking of life, and all the etiquette of a first-class bull fight in Spain, just so long will they persevere in the most barbarous way of taking life. It is murder just the same, however it is done.

Sometimes we really see retribution follow crime. There is no doubt it is always punished, though it is not given to us to know how it is done. In the story I am about to relate we can plainly see just how swiftly retribution followed the sin.

A friend told my mistress the tale, and it made my hair stand on end. I suffered so deeply in thinking about it that I know I can tell it in a forcible manner. Tales of this kind, however we may dislike to hear them, must be put in black and white before we can reach the hearts of those in whose power rests the future of that crime called vivisection.

Millions of innocent victims are offered up every year in the name of science. It is simply pandering to the low animal craving for cruelty. No man or woman can witness the torturing of helpless creatures and come out of the ordeal innocent. Why is the cannibal worse than the doctor who uses his knife on helpless creatures, teaching a class of young people to do likewise? Is life safe when the fiendish craving to operate comes upon him? Would his wife or his child be sacred? Would he not practise on them?

And now, as this all-absorbing subject has driven me all around "Robin Hood's barn," I will tell my story. An elderly lady who was very fond of cats told the story to her daughter, and from her it came to my mistress. A niece of this lady, a beautiful girl, had married a young doctor. Her friends were not pleased with the match, but could not influence her. She was young, beautiful, and rich. She was her own mistress, being an orphan, and under no obligation to obey her aunt unless she would do so willingly. It is a very true saying that love is blind. She could see no flaw in her idol.

For two years she travelled in Europe with her aunt, the separation being a great trial to the lovers. On her return they were married, and his devotion made her life perfect. When their first child was expected, they felt that nothing would be wanting to complete their happiness.

One year from the date of their marriage she died, and a few hours after her beautiful little son followed her. Her husband was prostrated with grief, and in two months from the day of her death he left his home and sought in travel to forget his sorrow. Three years after, he died in Rome, of fever.

His friends believed he had recklessly thrown away his life. Without his wife he cared not to live. But there was a mystery that many friends suspected, but the truth was never made public. The aunt held the key to the mystery and revealed the sorrowful secret to her daughter.

Alice was one of the most sensitive girls. She never would tolerate a falsehood. She had one master passion, and that was love of animals. Her horse knew her voice and would follow her about like a dog. But of all her pets, she loved cats the best.

Some time before her engagement to Dr. G. she had a beautiful little kitten. She seemed to live for that little creature. It was always in her arms and seemed to know as much as a child. When it was eight months old it disappeared under the most mysterious circumstances. Search was made, and great rewards were offered, but all of no avail. She mourned for it, and had it been a child she could not have suffered more.

She fell ill of low fever, and her friends were very anxious about her. They never mentioned Little Blossom to her, and she never had another cat. After her engagement and marriage she was very happy, but never could speak to her husband about her loss, and he knew nothing of her love for Little Blossom. They were seldom separated, but two months before her death her husband left her to visit a patient in a neighboring town.

As she was well and cheerful, he did not feel any hesitation at leaving her, though he expected to be away all day. He was surprised, on his return, that his wife was not watching for him as usual. He ran up to their room and, finding the door locked, called to his wife to open the door. Receiving no answer, he was alarmed and, going through his dressing-room, entered the room. The odor of chloroform caused his heart to stand still with fear. His wife lay on the lounge insensible.

He threw open the windows and used every means in his power to restore her, and she at last revived. With a look of horror she recoiled from him, releasing herself from his arms in frantic haste. He thought she had lost her reason, and when she again became unconscious he took her in his arms and carried her into her room, where he laid her on the couch, and she soon revived. Very tenderly he soothed her, asking her why she had used a dangerous thing like chloroform so recklessly. He remembered that she had, before her marriage, used it for neuralgia, but since he had the care of her he had never allowed it.

She looked with a dazed expression. She trembled all over if he touched her, and made no answer to his words of tenderness. He telegraphed for one of the best physicians and a nurse. And then, with the aid of her maid, who was very much attached to her mistress, he made her as comfortable as possible.

The maid could give no explanation of the cause of her sickness. Her mistress had received several letters, and had been shut up in her room writing for some hours. She had taken her some toast and tea, though she did not care to take it. She thought she had taken a chill, for she was shivering and looked very white. She said she would sleep, and did not wish to be disturbed. So the maid left her, and had heard nothing of her since, till called by him on his return.

Though conscious when the doctor and nurse came, she closed her eyes and never spoke a word. After an examination the doctor said, "She has evidently received some shock that has unbalanced her mind." He advised her husband to keep away from her, as the moment he came near her she trembled and shrunk away from him.

It was torture to her husband, but his knowledge taught him that the doctor was right--that the nearest and dearest are always turned from by the diseased mind. Though he never left the dressing room, he kept out of her sight.

Two days from the time she was taken sick she died, and her little son followed her a few hours after. She never spoke to them, though they believed her to be conscious. Their agony and grief did not move her at all, and in the last few hours convulsions prevented any attempt to make her speak.

This was a crushing blow to her husband. To lose her without one word prostrated him. He was to know a deeper sorrow--one that would admit of no consolation. It was a long time before he could look over her papers; but at last it was necessary, and he aroused himself. Then came retribution indeed.

A package met his eye, on opening her desk, directed to him in the handwriting of his wife. The date on the outside convinced him that she had written it soon after he had left her that fatal morning. It contained a letter in a masculine hand, but the letter from his wife he read first.

From that moment his life was ended. He spoke to no one of his friends of his sorrow, giving the charge of their home into the hands of the aunt with whom his wife had lived, and then he left his home, to travel alone.

The letter from his wife, and the one she had received that had caused all her sorrow, was sent to her aunt, at his death, with a letter he had also written. The letter from his wife explained all. She wrote him that after reading the enclosed letter all love for him had died out of her heart, leaving only disgust. She could not endure the thought of him as her husband. She was determined rather than live with him she would take her own life and her child's. She could read only cruel thoughts in his face, and her life would be filled with the dread that she and her child would be subjects for his knife.

"My dear Little Blossom was like a child, and I can see her delicate limbs quivering while you tortured her. I should go mad to live with you, for her dear little face would always be before me."

She had evidently fought with her weakness, to finish her letter, for the writing was almost unintelligible.

He at once recognized the handwriting of the other letter, and he knew that there was no appeal from the truth. He could only say in anguish of heart, "It is just." The letter was directed to her, in her maiden name, and had been forwarded to her by her aunt. By some mistake it was over a year since it had been written, and with other papers was found by her aunt when she opened her house after a long absence.

It was from one of her old friends, a gentleman of high standing, holding a very important position in a neighboring city. The news of her marriage had never reached him, else the letter would never have been written. He had known her from childhood and had loved her hopelessly. His letter stated the fact that a power stronger than his own will obliged him to write to her, and save her from marriage with a man who would surely make her unhappy.

"If I cause you great sorrow, in this terrible relation, it may save you from a life-long unhappiness. Doctor L., my cousin, whom you well know, is my authority, and will swear to the truth of my story. Willard C., your little friend and neighbor, will also vouch for its accuracy, for he took an active part in the scene of which I write.

"Dr. L., as you well know, is a classmate of the man to whom you are engaged. And as he was a frequent visitor at your home, and a great friend of your aunt, you will know there is no appeal against his report. He returned from Germany last week, and when he asked my sister regarding news of his old friends, she spoke of your engagement.

"'Impossible,' he exclaimed, 'of all things this is the most unaccountable.'

"'Why?' said my sister; 'they are very fond of each other, and you are not so shabby, because you have broken with him, to grudge him his happiness, for he is devoted to her. You will admit it is a good match.'

"'Yes,' he said, 'so it looks to the world, but he never ought to marry her.'

"Then he changed the subject, though my sister tried to get at his reason for speaking in this manner. After she left us, I at once insisted on an explanation. Then to my horror and disgust I heard this fearful story.

"My cousin said: 'You know my love of animals and my opposition to vivisection. I have never allowed myself to listen to or assist in any act of this nature. You know my intimacy with Dr. G., and I never for one moment suspected him of the cruelty of which I proved him guilty.

"'Visiting Alice M. so often, I knew all her feelings in regard to animals, and I knew that her love for cats was the master passion of her life. Her last pet was a beautiful little kitten. You surely remember it? She called it Little Blossom.

"'One evening I called on her and learned from the servant that Miss Alice had been ill for some days.

"'On my way home I had to pass Dr. G.'s office, and as I had some business with him, I thought I would call. I found him very busy. Two young students were waiting to accompany him to the classroom. He invited me to go with them, saying, "We have a most interesting subject to-night." I never thought to ask the nature of the study, and finding an old friend in the outer room, I remained talking with him.

"'Soon cries the most agonizing came from the next room, and my friend, an old physician said: "This is hellish work! G. is a fiend when he is at it. I must go and prevent all the cruelty I can."

"'Some power stronger than my own will made me follow him. Dr. G. was the actor in one of the cruellest cases of vivisection. A lovely little kitten about eight months old, a pet kitten evidently, he was torturing, without the least pretence of anaesthetic. Its cries were fearful, but there was no release for it. I cried to him to give it something to deaden the pain, but he was deaf to my request. If ever a man's face was transformed to that of a demon, it was that man's.

"'Two of the students, to their credit be it said, turned away sick and faint, while one of them, Willard C. cried out, "My God! it is Alice M.'s pet, Little Blossom."

"'I gave one spring forward, and--yes, it indeed was dear Little Blossom, her lovely eyes starting from her head, her soft fur matted with blood, while her intestines were exposed to his cruel hand, to be tortured. I tore a long scarf from my neck, and finding a bottle of chloroform near, I saturated it with it and covered the dear little kitten, holding it down with my breast till every sound was still. It was a fearful task, for I was almost overpowered by the chloroform, and Dr. G. fell upon me like a madman despoiled of his prey. But others came to my aid, and Willard C. took the body of the little victim, saying he would bury it himself.

"'To Dr. G. I said: "I will never take your hand again in friendship. Professional honor requires silence, and in this case sympathy with the owner or the victim will allow you to escape punishment. You know there is a law against taking a pet animal."

"'He was in a great rage, saying, "That is not your business. I bought her of a boy, supposing she was his property. I do not think you are much of a doctor if you shrink from procuring the knowledge so necessary to science, however painful the ordeal."

"'"Never would I be a doctor," I answered, "if I must also be a fiend. Heaven grant you may never have wife or child, for they would not be safe from you, if you needed subjects."

"'He laughed a scornful laugh, saying, "My wife, if I ever have one, will be obliged to you."

"'And now, great Heaven! he is engaged to the loveliest and dearest woman I ever knew, and she is the mistress of Little Blossom whom he murdered.'

"'It must be prevented,' I said, as soon as I could control my feeling, for the fearful tale my cousin had so feelingly related, made me sick. 'She shall never be his wife. I will prevent it, even though I have to tell her this heartrending story. If she should discover the truth after her marriage, it would kill her.'

"I could not sleep that night. I could see Little Blossom in your arms, with her blue bow on her neck, just under one ear, and I could feel her soft little paws, when she would give them to me when you told her to. I could hear you say: 'Jack, I love her better than I could love a child. If anything should happen to her, it would kill me, for I mean to keep her all my life.'

"And then the face of that man, as he bent over that innocent little creature! Even when she tried to lick his hand it did not touch his heart.

"Can you blame me for telling you this? I know you so well that I do not fear that the loss of such a fiend will ever trouble you. I know your love will die at once, and Little Blossom will be avenged. And I cannot answer to my conscience if I allow you to marry this man. Wife or child would not be safe with a man who has entered into this compact with Satan, called vivisection. Let no mother ever trust her boy after he has willingly assisted in this cruel pastime.

"Show him this letter, if you wish, and Willard C. will tell you where he made the grave of your dear little pet."

After Dr. G. read that letter he no longer needed a clew to the loss of wife and child. Little Blossom was avenged. But at what a fearful cost!

There are often advertisements seen in the daily papers and great rewards offered for lost pets,--dogs and cats. Never expect to find them. The doctors will pay more than the offered reward for nice, well-cared-for dogs and cats; and boys have no regard for those who feel the loss of their pets. It is to get the highest price.

Is it not the duty of every one who can have influence to use it in behalf of the dumb creatures who appeal to their mercy? They cannot speak for themselves.

XXV

EVENTIDE

We are still in our pleasant rooms, and life is very quiet and happy. Each day I grow less able to go about. I have no inclination to leave our nice room. It is really true I am growing old. I can hear only in one ear; but, oh my, don't I hear quickly in the other! The sense of smell has grown stronger. I think I could smell a rat one mile away. My eyesight is good. I do not believe even a Boston-born cat ever wears glasses. Their literary tendencies do not need to be advertised by glasses.

But alas! there are other indications of old age. I love to lie quiet, looking in the fire, where I see pictures of the past. My appetite is good, but I am very particular about my food, and if it does not please me, I am irritable. Unless the boys or some friends I love come in, I do not feel inclined to make myself agreeable. It is a real pleasure when Will takes me on his knee, and I can stick my claws in, just as I used to, scratching gently, while he says, "Oh, Daisy, you are at your old tricks!"

But it makes me sad after they have gone. I look in the fire and see the dear little boys of long ago, dressed so cunning and always so full of fun. To know that they are no longer mine! These smart young men have taken their places. Then, indeed, I feel I am an old cat and nearing the end. I have learned now the meaning of "the beginning of the end." I realize that I must finish my book at once, before I get too old to write at all. My thumb is rather stiff and rheumatic, and my "index claw" not quite as sharp a pen as it used to be, but I think I shall be able to finish my work.

There is one thing very true. No one realizes my great age. Friends come in daily, and say, "Oh, Daisy, how lovely you are! and your tail is just perfect." Of course I know it is true. My tail is just lovely, and my fur is as soft and luxuriant as it was years ago. But when they say, "_She_ is beautiful," that arouses all the "old cat Adam" in me, for I suppose that is the part of us that dies last. After having all my life behaved like a gentleman, with all his virtues, and none of his vices, now, in my old age, to be called "She" is more than I can bear. The advanced woman cat may, like her superiors, have a desire to be men; but no gentleman cat would ever care to change his nature or sex. Just because my name is Daisy, they seem to think I am a "Miss Nancy," and adapt their conversation to suit an inferior intellect.

One young girl came to visit us one day, and we were tired enough of her. She had no brains and soon used up all her small talk. Then she gushed over me. It made me sick. I opened my eyes wide at her. This pleased her so much that she nodded just like a donkey, and clucked at me just as if she thought me a hen. Then she repeated that awful silly thing with no sense in at all:--

"'Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?'
'I've been to London to see the Queen.'"

Her voice was thin and pitched high, and it made me tired and cross. She looked for approval and got disappointed. I backed away from her and swelled up my tail till it was as big as a muff. She was rather frightened, but my two friends laughed. They understood that I was insulted by such childish nonsense. As if I had a mind no deeper than that silly stuff!

I wanted her to know that "Washington" and the "President of the United States" and his wife would be much more attractive to me.

London and the Queen! There are snobs enough to visit them without a cat joining the crowd. I have no doubt the Queen is a nice old lady, but then there are so many nicer ones who earn their own living that I can see every day. Such a journey would be useless. I have never heard she was fond of cats. If she had been, they might be treated better by those who follow after and pin their faith on royalty.

I did get very nervous over that silly "Pussy Cat." It ran in my head, and my nice fire pictures were filled with the maudlin trash. And I was heartily glad when Miss Eleanor said, "Now we will have a little of Dickens to clear the atmosphere." That calmed my nerves, and I fell asleep, and I also fell off of the hassock, where I had perched myself.

The other day I heard Miss Milly say that she scarcely ever took up a paper without finding some interesting anecdote of a dog or cat. Miss Eleanor said, "What interesting stories we could tell of the pets we have known!"

I just laughed to myself, thinking how surprised they would be when they found my manuscript containing many of their nice stories. I never forget stories I hear, and I hear many I would like to repeat if I had space. Here is one, however, I cannot overlook.

A friend of ours had a beautiful maltese cat named Primrose. Primrose had four kittens. They were just perfect, and she was very proud of them. The mistress decided to keep them all, for the children were delighted with them. As they were living that summer in a large old farmhouse, they had plenty of room. Primrose had a large clothes-basket for her nursery, with a nice rug inside. A more luxurious place could not have been found for a home. Indeed, had she been a society cat, feeling the necessity of giving importance to her home, she would, like "human society people," have called her home "Catmore," "The Mewes," or "Pussy Villa." But she was content to call it what it really was,--a good homelike clothes-basket, with beauty and goodness enough inside to allow of its being nameless.

One day one of the children tied a red ribbon around the neck of Primrose. She looked so charming that the other children gave up their pretty hair ribbons to decorate the kittens. There were pink, blue, and yellow. The fourth one was red, like the mother's. It was a beautiful sight. The basket looked like one huge bouquet.

Primrose was away when they were decorated, and on her return she looked with surprise at the brilliant objects in her home. She gave one "cat call" of surprise. This aroused the kittens, and they climbed up the side of the basket and mewed for their dinner. Primrose looked at each one, as if to make sure they were her kittens. Then she jumped into the basket, boxed all their ears, and tore off every ribbon, with the exception of the red one like her own. This was her way of saying; "Stick to your mother's color; it is red. I will not allow children of mine to indulge in such foolish masquerading!" She only made them naughty little kittens, for they did crowd their little sister, with the red ribbon, almost out of the basket. They whispered and licked and played with each other, but would not speak to her.

The next day, however, the children, finding that Primrose preferred her own taste in ribbons to theirs, brought red ribbons for them all. Then the mother was satisfied. Was not that a proof that Primrose could tell one color from another?

I have one great pleasure--I can go out every fair day. I climb on the fence, but do not go away from our garden: for in the next house is a dog, and he is a poor, evil-dispositioned creature. He seems to hate me. Why he should want to make me answerable for his unhappiness, I cannot understand. Just as soon as I appear on the fence, he barks and barks till all the neighborhood is disturbed. I do not notice him, for I know it is a free country, and I have as good a right to the fence as he has to his garden.

Norah, the girl where we live, is very kind to me. She keeps the window open, and I can jump in just when I please. The good kind old "gentleman of the house" speaks very kindly to me, and I know he understands me, for one day when I reached over when that dog was barking, and hissed right in his face once or twice just to aggravate him, this nice old gentleman laughed, and said, "Smart Daisy!" And I enjoyed it. When I got over my madness at night, all alone in my basket, all asleep around me, I did think how sad it was, when I ought to be at peace with all the world, knowing that my life would soon end, to go and irritate that poor dog by hissing at him; it made me feel ashamed. But then, I suppose I shall do it again unless I stay in when he barks.

There was a very nice cat belonging to some people who had recently moved into one of the houses near. He was a real "out and outer." I never heard such a voice or such sentiments before. He said he wanted to kill! It was his mission! Let the rats and mice in the neighborhood beware! He was there. That was enough; they were doomed. He would make that back yard a battle-field.

I was carried right off my feet by his eloquence. "Good heavens!" I thought, "is his name 'Gladstone' or 'Bismarck'? What a loss to me! I shall never find another rat; he will kill them all."

When weeks and weeks passed on, and I had killed a few, though I did not tell him, he blustered so, I thought he had killed dozens. The nice cat in the next house told me that he had never killed one. She said, "He is a real coward." He is just like some men--all talk and brag, "great cry and little wool."