Pussy and Doggy Tales Pussy and Doggy Tales By E. Nesbit With Illustrations by L. Kemp-Welch London J. M. Dent & Co. Aldine House 29 & 30 Bedford Street 1899 W. C. Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. At the Ballantyne Press Contents Pussy Tales PAGE TOO CLEVER BY HALF 3 THE WHITE PERSIAN 16 A POWERFUL FRIEND 26 A SILLY QUESTION 40 THE SELFISH PUSSY 47 MEDDLESOME PUSSY 54 NINE LIVES 62 Doggy Tales PAGE TINKER 79 RATS! 95 THE TABLES TURNED 100 A NOBLE DOG 108 THE DYER'S DOG 114 THE VAIN SETTER 123 List of Illustrations PAGE "_I may have no nose, old man, but I smell rats_" _Frontispiece_ _Page_ _Nurse dried the poor, dear, cruelly-used kittens a little_ 11 _She was very beautiful_ 17 _I who superintended the writing of his letters_ 23 _So much better to go to sleep in front of it_ 27 _Now the back of a cow is the last place where you would look for a cat_ 33 "_I don't believe a word of it_" 43 _I was picked up in the street by a child_ 49 _The dog saw me off_ 53 _Seeing the tea set out, I got on the table_ 59 _Sitting up, and beginning to wash the kitten's face very hard indeed_ 73 _The man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinker hanging on to his fingers_ 89 _It was a magnificent fight_ 106 _He pulled her out some ten yards down the stream_ 111 _Sat in the sun on the dyer's doorstep_ 117 _I took the first prize_ 127 Pussy Tales Too Clever by Half "TELL us a story, mother, " said the youngest kitten but three. "You've heard all my stories, " said the mother cat, sleepily turningover in the hay. "Then make a new one, " said the youngest kitten, so pertly that Mrs. Buff boxed her ears at once--but she laughed too. Did you ever hear acat laugh? People say that cats often have occasion to do it. "I do know one story, " she said; "but I'm not sure that it's true, though it was told me by a most respectable brindled gentleman, a greatfriend of my dear mother's. He said he was a second cousin twenty-ninetimes removed of Mrs. Tabby White, the lady the story is about. " "Oh, do tell it, " said all the kittens, sitting up very straight andlooking at their mother with green anxious eyes. "Very well, " she said kindly; "only if you interrupt I shall leave off. " So there was silence in the barn, except for Mrs. Buff's voice and thesoft sound of pleased purring which the kittens made as they listened tothe enchanting tale. * * * * * "Mrs. Tabby White seems to have been as clever a cat as ever wentrat-catching in a pair of soft-soled shoes. She always knew just where amouse would peep out of the wainscot, and she had her soft-sharp paw onhim before he had time to know that he was not alone in the room. Sheknew how to catch nice breakfasts for herself and her children, a trickI will teach you, my dears, when the spring comes; she used to lie quitequietly among the ivy on the wall, and then take the baby birds out ofthe nest when the grown-up birds had gone to the grub-shop. Mrs. TabbyWhite was very clever, as I said--so clever that presently she was notsatisfied with being at the very top of the cat profession. "'Cat-people have more sense than human people, of course, ' she said toherself; 'but still there are some things one might learn from them. Imust watch and see how they do things. ' "So next morning when the cook gave Mrs. Tabby White her breakfast, shenoticed that cook poured the milk out of a jug into a saucer. Thatafternoon Tabby felt thirsty, but instead of putting her head into thejug and drinking in the usual way, --you know--she tilted up the jug topour the milk out as she had seen the cook do. But cats' paws, thoughthey are so strong to catch rats and mice and birds, are too weak tohold big brown jugs. The nasty deceitful jug fell off the dresser andbroke itself. 'Just to spite me, I do believe, ' said Mrs. Tabby. And themilk was all spilled. "'Now how on earth could that jug have been broken?' said cook, when shecame in. "'It must have been the cat, ' said the kitchenmaid; and she was quiteright, but nobody believed her. "Then Mrs. Tabby White noticed that human people slept in bigsoft-cushioned white beds, instead of sleeping on the kitchenhearth-rug, or in the barn, like cat people. So she said to her childrenone evening-- "'My dears, we are going to move into a new house. ' "And the kittens were delighted, and they all went upstairs veryquietly, and crept into the very best human bed. But unfortunately thatbed had been got ready for a human uncle to sleep in; and when he foundthe cats there he turned them out, not gently, and threw boots at themtill they fled, pale with fright to the ends of their pretty tails. Andnext morning he told the Mistress of the house that horrid CATS had beenin his bed, and he vowed that he would never pass another night under aroof where such things were possible. Mrs. Tabby White was veryglad--because no lady can wish for the visits of a person who throwsboots at her. But the Mistress of the house said sadly, 'Oh, Tabby!--youhave lost us a fortune!' And Tabby for all her cleverness didn'tunderstand what the Mistress meant, but went on purring proudly, andwondering what clever thing she could do next. And _I_ don't know whatit meant either, so don't you interrupt with silly questions. "'I think we ought to wear shoes, ' was the next thing Mrs. Tabby Whitesaid; but all the human shoes were too big for her. However, there was anice pair of salmon-coloured kid shoes, quite new, belonging to thehuman child's big doll--and Mrs. Tabby White put them on her eldestkitten's little browny feet. "'Now, Brindle, ' she said (he was named after the gentleman who told methe story), 'you are grander than any kitten ever was before. ' And atfirst Brindle felt pleased--then he tried to feel pleased--then he knewhe wasn't pleased at all. Then the shoes began to hurt him horribly, sohe mewed sadly; and Mrs. Tabby White boxed his ears softly--as mothercats do; _you_ know how I mean! But when she was asleep he took off thepink shoes and bit them to pieces. And Nurse slapped him for it. PoorMrs. Tabby White was very miserable when she saw her son being slapped:for it is one thing to box your son's ears (softly, as mother cats do;_you_ know how I mean), and quite another to see another person doit--heavily, as is the way with nursemaids. "But the last and greatest effort Mrs. Tabby White made to imitate humanmanners was one Saturday night. "She saw the human child have its bath before the nursery fire, with hotwater, pink soap, dry towels, and much fussing, and she said to herself, 'Why should I waste hours every day in washing my children with mylittle white paws and my little pink tongue, when this human child canbe made clean in ten minutes with this big bath. If I had more time Icould learn to be cleverer, and I should end by being the mostwonderful Cat in all the world. ' So she sat, and watched, and waited. "When the human child was in bed and asleep, Nurse went down to hersupper, leaving the bath to be cleared away later, for it was a hotsupper of baked onions and toasted cheese, and if you don't go to thatsupper directly it is ready, you may as well not go at all, for it won'tbe worth eating--at least so I have heard the kitchenmaid say. "Mrs. Tabby White waited till she heard the last of Nurse's steps on thestairs below, and then she put both her cat-children into the tub, andwashed them with rose-scented soap and a Turkey sponge. At first theythought it very good fun, but presently the soap got in their eyes andthey were frightened of the sponge, and they cried, mewing piteously, tobe taken out. I don't know how she could have done it, I couldn'thave treated a kitten of _mine_ like that. "When she took them out, Mrs. Tabby tried to dry them with the softtowel, but somehow catskin is not so easy to dry as child-skin, and thelittle cats began to shiver, and moan: 'Oh, mother, we were so nice andwarm, and now we are so cold! Why is it? What have we done? Were wenaughty?' "'Drat the cats!' said Nurse, when she came up from supper, and foundMrs. Tabby White trying to warm her kittens against her own comfortablefur; 'if they haven't tumbled in the bath!' "Nurse dried the poor, dear, cruelly-used kittens a little (her handswere bigger than Mrs. Tabby's, so she could do it better), and put themin a basket with flannel, and next day Tabby-Kit was quite well, thoughrather ragged looking; but Brindle had taken a chill, and for days hehung between life and death. Poor Mrs. Tabby was like a wild cat withanxiety, and when at last Brindle was well again (or nearly, for healways had a slight cough after that), Mrs. Tabby White said to herchildren, 'My darlings, I was wrong, I was a silly old cat. ' "'No, ' purred the cat-children, 'darling mother, you were always thebest of cats. ' "Mrs. Tabby kissed them both, for of course any one would be pleasedthat her children should think her the best of cats, but in her heartshe knew well enough how silly she had been. "Then she set about washing the kittens, not with pink soap and whitetowel this time, but with white paws and pink tongue in the goodold-fashioned way. " * * * * * "Thank you, mother, " said all the kittens; "what a nice horrible story. " "What is the moral?" asked the youngest kitten but three. "The moral, " said Mrs. Buffy, "is, 'There is such a thing as being tooclever by half. ' I'm not sure about the story being true, but I know themoral is. Why, it's nearly tea-time. Come along, children, and get yourtea. " So they all crept quietly away to catch the necessary mice, and theyoungest was so afraid of being too clever by half, that she would neverhave caught a mouse at all, if her mother had not boxed herears--softly, as mother cats do; you know how I mean! The White Persian I WAS a handsome, discreet, middle-aged, respectable, responsible, domesticated tabby cat. I was humble. I knew my place, and kept it. Myplace was the place nearest the fire in winter, or close to the sunnywindow in summer. There was nothing to trouble me--not so much as a flyin the cream, or an error in the leaving of the cat's meat, until somethoughtless person gave my master the white Persian cat. She was very beautiful in her soft, foolish, namby-pamby, blue-eyedway. Of course, she did not understand English, and when they called"Puss, puss, " she only ran under the sofa, for she thought they wereteasing her. She was mistress only of two languages--Persian andcat-talk. My master did not think of this. He called her "Puss"; he called her"Pussy"; he called her "Tittums" and "Pussy then"; and a thousandendearments that had formerly been lavished on me were vainly showeredon this unresponsive stranger. But when he found she was cold to all ofthem, my master sighed. "Poor thing!" he said; "she is deaf. " I sat by the bright fender, and washed my face, and sleeked my prettypaws, and looked on. My master gave up taking very much notice of thenew cat. But I had a fear that he might learn Persian or cat-talk, andmake friends with her; so I resolved that the best thing for me would bea complete change in the Persian's behaviour--such a change as shouldmake it impossible for her ever to be friends with him again; so I saidto her: "You wonder that our master looks coldly at you. Perhaps you don't knowthat in England a white cat is supposed to mew twenty times longer andto purr twenty times louder than a cat of any other colour?" "Oh, thank you so much for telling me, " she said gratefully. "I didn'tknow. As it happens, I have a very good voice. " And the next time she wanted her milk, she mewed in a voice you couldhave heard twenty miles away. Poor master was so astonished that henearly dropped the saucer. When she had finished the milk, she jumpedupon his knee, and he began to stroke her. She nearly gave herself afit in her efforts to purr loud enough to please him. At first he waspleased, but when the purring got louder and louder, the poor man puthis hands to his ears and said, "Oh dear! oh dear! this is worse than awhole hive of bees. " Still he put her down gently, and I congratulated her on having done sowell. She did better. She was an affectionate person, though foolish, and in her anxiety to do what was expected of a cat of her colour inEngland, she practised day and night. Her purr was already the loudest I have heard from any cat, but shefancied she could improve her mewing; and she mewed in the garden, shemewed in the house, she mewed at meals, she mewed at prayers, she mewedwhen she was hungry to show that she wanted food, and she mewed whenshe had had it to show her gratitude. "Poor thing, " said the master to a friend who had come to see him, "sheis so deaf she can't hear the noise she makes. " Of course, I understood what he said, but she hadn't yet picked up aword of English; and if the master _had_ begun to learn Persian, I don'tsuppose he had got much beyond the alphabet. The Persian's mew was rather feebler that day, because she had a cold. "I don't think it's so bad, " said his friend. "If you really wanted toget rid of her, she is very handsome; she would take a prize anywhere. " "She is yours, " said the master instantly; and the strange gentlemantook her away in a basket. That evening it was I who sat on my master's knee--I who superintendedthe writing of his letters on the green-covered writing table--I whohad all the milk that was left over from his tea. In a few days he had a letter. I read it when he laid it down; and ifyou don't believe cats can read, I can only say that it is just as easyto read a letter like the master's as it is to write a story like this. The letter begged my master to take back the fair Persian. "Her howls, " the letter went on, "become worse and worse. The poorcreature is, as you say, too deaf to be tolerated. " My master wrote back instantly to say that he would rather be condemnedto keep a dog than have the fair Persian within his doors again. Then by return of post came a pitiful letter, begging for help andmercy, and the friend came again to tea. I trembled lest my foreignrival should come back to live with me. But she didn't. The next morningmy master took me on his knee, and, stroking me gently, said-- "Ah, Tabbykins! no more Persians for us. I have sent her to my deafaunt. She will be delighted with her--a most handsome present--and asthey are both deaf, the fair Persian's shrieks will hurt nobody. "But I will have no more prize cats, " he said, pouring out some creamfor me in his own saucer. "You know how to behave; I will never have anycat but you. " I do, and he never has. A Powerful Friend MY mother was the best of cats. She washed us kittens all over everymorning, and at odd times during the day she would wash little bits ofus, say an ear, or a paw, or a tail-tip, and she was very anxious aboutour education. I am afraid I gave her a great deal of trouble, for I wasrather stout and heavy, and did not take a very active or graceful partin the exercises which she thought good for us. Our gymnasium was the kitchen hearth-rug. There was always a good firein the grate, and it seemed to me so much better to go to sleep infront of it than to run round after my own tail, or even my mother's, though, of course, that was a great honour. As for running after the reel of cotton when the cook dropped it, orplaying with the tassel of the blind-cord, or pretending that there weremice inside the paper bag which I knew to be empty, I confess that I hadno heart or imagination for these diversions. "Of course, you know best, mother, " I used to say; "but it does seem tome a dreadful waste of time. We might be much better employed. " "How better employed?" asked my mother severely. "Why, " I answered, "in eating or sleeping. " At first my mother used to box my ears, and insist on my learning suchlittle accomplishments as she thought necessary for my station in life. "You see, " she would say, "all this playing with tails and reels andballs of worsted is a preparation for the real business of life. " "What is that?" asked my sister. "Mouse-catching, " said my mother very earnestly. "There are no mice here, " I said, stretching myself. "No, but you will not always be here; and if you practise the littletricks I show you now with the ball of worsted and the tips of ourtails, then, when the great hour comes, and a career is open to you, andyou see before you the glorious prize--the MOUSE--you will be quickenough and clever enough to satisfy the highest needs of your nature. " "And supposing we don't play with our tails and the balls of worsted?" Isaid. "Then, " said my mother bitterly, "you may as well lie down for the miceto, run over you. " Thus at first she used to try to show me how foolish it was to think ofnothing but eating and sleeping; but after a while she turned all herattention to teaching my brother and sister, and they were apt pupils. They despised nothing small enough to be moved by their paws, whichcould give them an opportunity of practising. They did not mind makingthemselves ridiculous--a thing which has been always impossible with me. I have seen Tabby, my sister, in the garden, playing with dead leaves, as excited and pleased as though they had been the birds which shefoolishly pretended that they were. I thought her very silly then, but I lived to wish that I had taken halfas much trouble with my lessons as she did with hers. My mother was verypleased with her, especially after she caught the starlings. This was apiece of cleverness which my sister invented and carried throughentirely out of her own head. She made friends with one of the cows atthe farm near us, and used to go into the cowhouse and jump on the cow'sback. Then when the cow was sent out into the field to get her grassybreakfast, my sister used to go with her, riding on her back. Now birds are always very much on the look-out for cats, and, if theycan help it, never allow one of us to come within half-a-dozen yards ofthem without taking to those silly wings of theirs. I never could seewhy birds should have wings--so unnecessary. But birds are not afraid of cows, for cows are very poor sportsmen, andnever care to kill and eat anything. Now the back of a cow is the last place where you would think of lookingfor a cat; so when the starlings saw the cow coming, they didn't thinkit worth while to use their wings, and when the cow was quite close tothe birds--beautiful, fat, delightful birds--- my sister used to pickout with her eye the fattest starling, and then leap suddenly from thecow's back on to her prey. She never missed. "I have never known, " said my poor mother with tears of pride in hergreen eyes--"I have never known a cat do anything so clever. " "It's all your doing, mother dear, " said my sister prettily; "if youhadn't taught me so well when I was little, I should never have thoughtof it. " And they kissed each other affectionately. I showed my claws and growled. My mother shook her tabby head. "O Buff, " she said, "if you had only been willing to learn when you werelittle, you might have been as clever as your sister, instead ofbeing the great anxiety you are to me. " "And why am I an anxiety?" I said, ruffling up my fur and my tail, for Iwas very angry. "Because you are useless, " she said, "and not particularly handsome; andwhen a cat is useless and not particularly handsome, they sometimes----" "What?" I said, turning pale to the ends of my ears. "They sometimes drown it, Buff, " she said in a whisper, and turned awayto hide her feelings. Judge of my own next day when they came into the kitchen and took me upand put me into a basket. I knew all about drowning. These tales ofhorror are told at twilight time in all cat nurseries, and I knew thatif three large stones were put into the basket with me, I mightconsider my fate sealed. It was very uncomfortable in the basket. They carried me upside-downpart of the way, and it was draughty and hard; but, so far, there wereno stones. When they took off the lid of the basket, I found myselfunder the shade of a huge moving mountain, that seemed about to fall andcrush me. It was an elephant. I found that the people where my mother lived had given me to the cook, who had given me to her cousin, who was engaged to be married to a youngman whose brother-in-law was the elephant's keeper, and so I foundmyself in the elephant's house. There was no milk for me--no heads and tails of fish--no scraps ofmeat--no delicious unforeseen morsels of butter. The elephant was very kind to me. He had once had a friend exactly likeme, he explained, but had unfortunately walked upon him, and now I hadcome to fill the vacant place in his large heart. I resolved at once that he should not walk upon me; but in order toinsure this, I was compelled to enter upon a more active existence thanI had ever known. When I asked what I was expected to eat, he said-- "Mice, I suppose; or you can have some of my buns if you like. You mightlike them at first, but you will soon get tired of them. " But I couldn't eat buns. I was never, from a kitten, fond of suchthings. I got very hungry. Again and again the mice rushed through thestraw, and I, heavily, helplessly, in my unpractised way, rushed afterthem. At first the elephant laughed heartily at my inexpertness; butwhen he saw how hungry and wretched I was, he said-- "They won't give you any milk, and if they find you don't catch the micethey will take you away from me. Now you are a nice little cat, and Idon't want to part with you. We must try and arrange something. " Then the great thought of my life came to me. "You walked on the other cat, " I said. "What?" he trumpeted in a voice of thunder. "I beg your pardon, " I said hastily; "I didn't mean to hurt yourfeelings"--and, indeed, I could not have imagined that an elephant wouldhave been so thin-skinned "but a great idea has come to me. Whyshouldn't you walk on mice--not too hard, but just so that I could eatthem afterwards?" "Well, " said the elephant, showing his long tusks in a smile, "you arenot very handsome, and you are not very brisk; but you certainly havebrains, my dear. " He dropped his great foot as he spoke. When he lifted it, there lay amouse. I had an excellent supper; and before the week's end I heard thekeeper say, "This cat has certainly done the trick. She has kept themice down. We must keep her. " They have kept me. They even go so far as to allow me to moisten my micewith milk. There is no moral to this story, except that you should do as you aretold, and learn everything you can while you are young. It is true thatI get on very well without having done so, but then you may not have mygood luck. It is not every cat who can get an elephant to catch her micefor her. A Silly Question "HOW do you come to be white, when all your brothers are tabby, mydear?" Dolly asked her kitten. As she spoke, she took it away from theball it was playing with, and held it up and looked in its face as Alicedid with the Red Queen. "I'll tell you, if you'll keep it a secret, and not hold me so tight, "the kitten answered. Dolly was not surprised to hear the kitten speak, for she had read herfairy books, as all good children should, and she knew that allcreatures answer if one only speaks to them properly. So she held thekitten more comfortably and the tale began. "You must know, my dear Dolly, " the kitten began--and Dolly thought itdreadfully familiar--"you must know that when we were very small we allset out to seek our fortunes. " "Why, " interrupted Dolly, "you were all born and brought up in our barn!I used to see you every day. " "Quite so, " said the kitten; "we sought our fortune every night, and itturned out to be mice, mostly. Well, one night I was seeking mine, whenI came to a hole in the door that I had never noticed before. I creptthrough it, and found myself in a beautiful large room. It smeltdelicious. There was cheese there, and fish, and cream, and mice, andmilk. It was the most lovely room you can think of. " "There's no such room----" began Dolly. "Did I say there was?" asked the kitten. "I only said I found myselfthere. Well, I stayed there some time. It was the happiest hour of mylife. But, as I was washing my face after one of the most deliciousherring's heads you ever tasted, I noticed that on nails all round theroom were hung skins--and they were cat skins, " it added slowly. "Wellmay you tremble!" Dolly hadn't trembled. She had only shaken the kitten to make it speakfaster. "Well, I stood there rooted to the ground with horror; and then came asort of horrible scramble-rush, and a barking and squeaking, and aterrible monster stood before me. It was something like a dog andsomething like a broom, something like being thrown out of the larder bycook--I can't describe it. It caught me up, and in less than a momentit had hung my tabby skin on a nail behind the door. "I crept out of that lovely fairyland a cat without a skin. And that'show I came to be white. " "I don't quite see----" began Dolly. "No? Why, what would your mother do if some one took off your dress, andhung it on a nail where she could not get it?" "Buy me another, I suppose. " "Exactly. But when my mother took me to the cat-skin shop, they were, unfortunately, quite out of tabby dresses in my size, so I had to have awhite one. " "I don't believe a word of it, " said Dolly. "No? Well, I'm sure it's as good a story as you could expect in answerto such a silly question. " "But you were always----" "Oh, well!" said the kitten, showing its claws, "if you know more aboutit than I do, of course there's no more to be said. Perhaps you couldtell me why your hair is brown?" "I was born so, I believe, " said Dolly gently. The kitten put its nose in the air. "You've got no imagination, " it said. "But, Kitty, really and truly, without pretending, you _were_ bornwhite, you know. " "If you know all about it, why did you ask me? At any rate, you can'texpect me to remember whether I was born white or not. I was too youngto notice such things. " "Now you are in fun, " said poor Dolly, bewildered. The kitten bristled with indignation. "What! you really don't believe me? I'll never speak to you again, " itsaid. And it never has. The Selfish Pussy "YES, " said the tortoiseshell cat to the grey one, as she thoughtfullywashed her left ear, "I have lived in a great many families. You see, it's not every trade that deserves to have a cat about the place. Myfirst master was a shoemaker, and I lived with him happily enough, untilone morning in winter, when I found the wicked man sewing strips of--letme whisper--_cat's fur_ on a pair of lady's slippers! "I mewed as I saw it, and he, thinking I wanted milk, put down his workto get me some, for he was fond enough of me. I drank the milk, and thenI ran away. I could not live with such a man. "My next home was in a garret, with a half-starved musician who madeviolins. A violin is a musical instrument that miauls when you touch itjust as we cats do, and it was amusing to live with a man who could makethings with voices like my own. He was very poor, and often had notenough to eat, but he always got me my cat's-meat; and when there was nofire on, he nursed me to keep me warm. But one day I learned, from thetalk of one of his friends (a man as lean as himself) who came to seehim, that the strings of the violins were taken from the bodies of deadcats. No wonder the voices were like my brothers' voices, since theywere stolen from my brothers' bodies. He might take my own voice someday. "So next day, after the cat's-meat man had called, I walked quietly out, and never saw that bad violin-maker again. "I was picked up in the street by a child, who took me home to hermother's house. They were rich folk; they had curtains, and cushions, and couches, and they did very little but nurse me, or sometimes, notwishing to hurt his feelings, the Italian greyhound. But they liked _me_best, of course. They were a noble family; and I should have been livingwith them still, but one year, when they went to the seaside, theyforgot to provide for my board and lodging, and I had to go into tradeagain. "'Milk ahoy! milk ahoy!' I heard that well-known music as I sat lonelyon the doorstep of the deserted mansion in the Square. The milkmanlooked lonely too; so I thought it would be only kind to go home withhim. I did. He was a very well-meaning man, but his tastes were low. Hetook skim milk in his tea, and gave me the same. Of course, after that, I could not stay another hour under his roof. "I tried two or three other houses, and I could have been happy with avery nice butcher who kept a corner shop, but he kept a dog also, a dogthat no cat in her senses would live in the same street with; so I cameaway--rather hurriedly, I remember--and the dog saw me off. Now I livewith a worker in silver, and I have cream every day; and when he makes acream-jug, and I remember what will be put in it some day, I lick mylips, and think what a happy cat I am to live with such a good man. Where do you live?" "With a poor widow, in an attic. I never have enough to eat. " And, indeed, the grey cat was thin. "Why do you stay with her?" "Because I love her, " said the grey cat. "Love!" replied the tortoiseshell cat. "Nonsense! I never heard of such a thing. " "Poor puss!" said the parrot in the window. The grey cat thought it wasspeaking to the tortoiseshell, and the tortoiseshell was certain itmeant the grey. Which do _you_ think it meant? Meddlesome Pussy I WAS separated from my mother at a very early age, and sent out intothe world alone, long before I had had time to learn to say "please" and"thank you, " and to shut the door after me, and little things like that. One of the things I had not learned to understand was the differencebetween milk in a saucer on the floor, and milk in a jug on the table. Other cats tell me there is a difference, but I can't see it. Thedifference is not in the taste of the milk--that is precisely the same. It is not so easy to get the milk out of a jug, and I should havethought some credit would attach to a cat who performed so clever afeat. The world, my dear, thinks otherwise. This difference of opinionhas, through life, been a fruitful source of sorrow to me. I cannot tellyou how much I have suffered for it. The first occasion I remember was abeautiful day in June, when the sun shone, and all the world lookedfair. I was destined to remember that day. The fishmonger (talk of statues to heroes! I would raise one to thatnoble man!)--the fishmonger, I say, brought his usual little present to_me_. I let the cook take it and prepare it for my eating. I am alwaysgenerous enough to permit the family to be served first--and then I havemy dinner quietly at the back door. Well, he had brought the salmon, and I followed the cook in, to seethat it wasn't put where those dogs could get it; and then, thedining-room door being opened, I walked in. The breakfast things werelying littered about, and on the tea-tray was a jug. Of course, I walked across the table, and looked into the jug; there wasmilk in it. It was a sensible, wide-mouthed jug, and I should have been quite ableto make a comfortable breakfast, if some clumsy, careless servant hadn'trushed into the room, crying "Shoo! scat!" This startled me, of course. I am very sensitive. I started, the jugwent over, and the milk ran on to the cloth, and down on the new carpet. You will hardly believe it, but that servant, to conceal her owncarelessness, beat me with a feather brush, and threw me out of the backdoor; and cook, who was always a heartless person, though stout, gaveme no dinner. Ah! if my fishmonger had only known that I never tastedhis beautiful present, after all! But though I admired him so much, I could not talk to him. I never, froma kitten, could speak any foreign language fluently. So he never knew. My next misadventure was on an afternoon when the family expectedcompany, and the best china was set out. Why "best"? Why should asaucer, all blue and gold and red, with a crown on the back, be betterthan a white one with mauve blobs on it? I never could see. Milk tastesequally well from both. I went into the drawing-room before the guests arrived--just to be surethat everything was as I could wish--and, seeing the tea set out, I goton the table, as usual, to see whether there was anything in thesaucers. There was not, but in the best milk-jug there was--CREAM! The neck of the best milk-jug was narrow. I could not get my head in, soI turned it over with my paw. It fell with a crash, and I paused amoment--these little shocks always upset me. All was still--I began tolap. Oh! that cream! I shall never forget it! Then came a rush, and the fatal cry of "Shoo! scat!"--always presagingdisaster. I saw the door open, and, by an instinct I cannot explain, Ileaped from the table. In my hurry, my foot caught in the handle of thesilver tray. We fell together--neither the tray nor I was hurt--but thebest china!!! I picked myself up, and looked about me. The family had come in. I readin their faces that their servant's unlucky interruption-of my meal haddestroyed what was dearer to them than life--than _my_ life, at anyrate. I fled. I went out homeless and hopeless into the goldenafternoon. I live now with a Saint--a maiden lady, who takes condensed milk in herown tea, and buys me two-pennyworth of cream night and morning. And cat's meat, too! And the glorious fishmonger still leaves his offerings at my door. Nine Lives "MOTHER, " said the yellow kitten, "is it true that we cats have ninelives?" "Quite, my dear, " the brindled cat replied. She was a very handsome cat, and in very comfortable circumstances. She sat on a warm Turkey carpet, and wore a blue satin ribbon round her neck. "I am in the ninth lifemyself, " she said. "Have you lived all your lives here?" "Oh dear, no!" "Were you here, " the white kitten asked, in a sleepy voice, "when theTurkey carpet was born? Rover says it is only a few months old. " "No, " said the mother, "I was not. Indeed, it was partly the softness ofthat carpet that made me come and live here. " "Where did you live before?" the black kitten said. A dreamy look came into the brindled cat's eyes. "In many strange places, " she answered slowly; adding more briskly, "andif you will be good kittens, I will tell you all about them. Goldie!come down from that stool, and sit down like a good kitten. Sweep! leaveoff sharpening your claws on the furniture; _that_ always ends introuble and punishment. Snowball! you're asleep again! Oh, well; ifyou'd rather sleep than hear a story----" Snowball shook herself awake, and the others sat down close to theirmother with their tails arranged neatly beside them, and waited for thestory. "I was born, " said the brindled cat, "in a barn. " "What is a barn?" asked the black kitten. "A barn is like a house, but there is only one room, and no carpets, only straw. " "I should like that, " said the yellow kitten, who often played among thestraw in the big box which brought groceries from the Stores. "I liked it well enough when I was your age, " said the motherindulgently, "but a barn is not at all a genteel place to be born in. Mymother had had a little unpleasantness with the family she lived with, and, of course, she was too proud to stay on after that. And so sheleft them, and went to live in the barn. It wasn't at all the sort oflife she had been accustomed to. " "What was the unpleasantness?" Sweep asked. "Well, it was about some cream which the woman of the house wanted forher tea. She should have said so. Of course, my mother would not havetaken it if she had had any idea that any one else wanted it. She wasalways most unselfish. " "What is tea?" "A kind of brown milk--very nasty indeed, and very bad for you. Well, Ilived with my brothers and sisters very happily for some months, for Iwas too young to know how vulgar it was to live in a barn and play withstraw. " "What is vulgar, mother?" "Dear, dear; how you do ask questions, " said the brindled cat, beginningto look worried. "Vulgar is being like everybody else. " "But does everybody else live in a barn?" "No; nobody does who is respectable. Vulgar really means--not likerespectable cats. " "Oh!" said the black kitten and the yellow, trying to look as if theyunderstood. But the white one did not say anything, because it had goneto sleep again. "Well, " the mother went on, "after a while they took me to live in thefarm-house. And I should have liked it well enough, only they had a lowhabit of locking up the dairy and the pantry. Well, it would be tiresometo go into the whole story; however, I soon finished my life at thefarm-house and went to live in the stable. It was very pleasant there. Horses are excellent company. That was my third life. My fourth was atthe miller's. He came one day to buy some corn; he saw me, and admiredme--as, indeed, every one has always done. He and the farmer weredisputing about the price of the corn, and at last the miller said-- "'Look here; you shall have your price if you'll throw me that cat intothe bargain. '" The kittens all shuddered. "What is a bargain? Is it like a pond? Andwere you thrown in?" "I was thrown in, I believe. But a bargain is not like a pond; though Iheard the two men talk of 'wetting' the bargain. But I suppose they didnot do it, for I arrived at the mill quite dry. That was a very pleasantlife--full of mice!" "Who was full of mice?" asked the white kitten, waking up for a moment. "I was, " said the mother sharply; "and I should have stayed in the millfor ever, but the miller had another cat sent him by his sister. "However, he gave me away to a man who worked a barge up and down theriver. I suppose he thought he should like to see me again sometimes asthe barge passed by. "Life in a barge is very exciting. There are such lots of rats, some ofthem as big as you kittens. I got quite clever at catching them, thoughsometimes they made a very good fight for it. I used to have plenty ofmilk, and I slept with the bargee in his warm little bunk, and of nightsI sat and toasted myself in front of his fire in the small, cosy cabin. He was very fond of me, and used to talk to me a great deal. It is solonely on a barge that you are glad of a little conversation. He wasvery kind to me, and I was very grieved when he married a lady whodidn't like cats, and who chased me out of the barge with a barge-pole. " "What is a barge-pole?" the yellow kitten asked lazily. "The only leg a barge has. I ran away into the woods, and there I livedon birds and rabbits. " "What are rabbits?" "Something like cats with long ears; very wholesome and nutritious. AndI should have liked my sixth life very much, but for the keeper. No, don't interrupt to ask what a keeper is. He is a man who, when he meetsa cat or a rabbit, points a gun at it, and says 'Bang!' so loud that youdie of fright. " "How horrible!" said all the kittens. "I was looking out for my seventh life, and also for the gamekeeper, andwas sitting by the river with both eyes and both ears open, when alittle girl came by--a nice little girl in a checked pinafore. "She stopped when she saw me, and called--'Pussy! pussy!' So I went veryslowly to her, and rubbed myself against her legs. Then she picked me upand carried me home in the checked pinafore. My seventh life was spentin a clean little cottage with this little girl and her mother. She wasvery fond of me, and I was as fond of her as a cat can be of a humanbeing. Of course, we are never so _unreasonably_ fond of them as theyare of us. " "Why not?" asked the yellow kitten, who was young and affectionate. "Because they're only human beings, and we are Cats, " returned themother, turning her large, calm green eyes on Goldie, who said, "Oh!"and no more. "Well, what happened then?" asked the black kitten, catching itsmother's eye. "Well, one day the little girl put me into a basket, and carried me out. I was always a fine figure of a cat, and I must have been a good weightto carry. Several times she opened the basket to kiss and stroke me. Thelast time she did it we were in a room where a sick girl lay on a bed. "'I did not know what to bring you for your birthday, ' said my littlegirl, 'so I've brought you my dear pussy. ' "The sick girl's eyes sparkled with delight. She took me in her arms andstroked me. And though I do not like sick people, I felt flattered andpleased. But I only stayed a very little time with her. " "Why?" asked all the kittens at once. "Because----but no; that story's too sad for you children; I will tellit you when you're older. " "But that only makes eight lives, " said Sweep, who had been counting onhis claws, "and you said you had nine. Which was the ninth?" "Why, _this_, you silly child, " said the brindled pussy, sitting up, andbeginning to wash the kitten's face very hard indeed. "And as it's mylast life, I must be very careful of it. That's why I'm so particularabout what I eat and drink, and why I make a point of sleeping so manyhours a-day. But it's your _first_ life, Snowball, and I can't have youwasting it all in sleep. Go and catch a mouse at once. " "Yes, mamma, " said Snowball, and went to sleep again immediately. "Ah!" said Mrs. Brindle, "I'll wash you next. That'll make you wake up, my dear. " "Snowball's always sleepy, " said the yellow kitten, stretching itself. "But, mamma dear, she doesn't care for history, and yours was a verylong tale. " "You can't have too much of a good thing, " said the mother, looking downat her long brindled tail. "If it's a good tail, the longer it is thebetter. " Doggy Tales Tinker MY name is Stumps, and my mistress is rather a nice little girl; but shehas her faults, like most people. I myself, as it happens, amwonderfully free from faults. Among my mistress's faults is what I maycall a lack of dignity, joined to a desire to make other peopleundignified too. You will hardly believe that, before I had belonged to her a month, shehad made me learn to dance and to jump. I am a very respectabledachshund, of cobby build, and jumping is the very last exercise Ishould have taken to of my own accord. But when Miss Daisy said, "Nowjump, Stumps; there's a darling!" and held out her little arms, I couldnot well refuse. For, after all, the child is my mistress. I never could understand why the cat was not taught to dance. It seemedto me very hard that, when I was having those long, miserable lessons, the cat should be allowed to sit down doing nothing but smile at mymisfortunes. Trap always said we ought to feel honoured by being taught, and the reason why Pussy wasn't asked to learn was because she was sodreadfully stupid, and had no brains for anything but the pleasures ofthe chase and the cares of a family; but I didn't think that could bethe reason, because the doll was _taught_ to dance, though she never_learned_, and I am sure _she_ was stupid enough. Another thing which Miss Daisy taught me to do was to beg; and theaction fills me with shame and pain every time I perform it, and as theyears go on I hate it more and more. For a stout, middle-aged dog, the action is absurd and degrading. Yet, such is the force of habit, that I go through the performance now quitenaturally whenever I want anything. Trap does it too, and says what doesit matter? but then he has no judgment, and, besides, he's thin. But one of the most thoughtless things my little mistress ever did wasone day last summer when she was out without me. I chose to stay at homebecause it was very hot, and I knew that the roads would be dusty; andshe was only going down to the village shop, where no one ever thinksof offering a dog anything to drink. If she had been going to the farm, I should have gone with her, because the lady there shows properattention to visitors, and always sets down a nice dish of milk for usdogs. Besides, I was a little unwell just then; the family had had duckfor dinner, and I always feel a little faint after duck. All our familydo. So I stayed at home. Well, Miss Daisy had gone out with only Trapand her hoop. I wish I had been there, for Trap is far too easy-going, and a hoop never gives any advice worth listening to. Trap told me allabout it as well as he could. Trap can't tell a story very well, poorfellow! It seems that, as Miss Daisy went across the village green, she saw acrowd of children running after a dog with--I hardly like to mentionsuch a thing--a tin saucepan tied to his tail! The dog bolted into theempty dog-kennel by the blacksmith's shop, and stayed there, growling. "Go away, bad children, " said Miss Daisy; "how dare you treat a poordear doggie so?" The children wouldn't go away at first. "Very well, " said Miss Daisy; "Ishall tell Trap what I think of you all. " Then she whispered to Trap, and he began to growl so fiercely that thechildren dared not come nearer. Any one can growl. Presently thechildren got tired of listening to him, and went away. Then Miss Daisycoaxed the unpleasant, tin-tailed creature out of the kennel, and untiedthe string, and took off the pan. Then, if you'll believe a dog of mycharacter (and of course you must), she carried that low dog home in herarms, and washed him, and set him down to eat out of the same plate asTrap and myself! Trap was friends with him directly--some people haveno spirit--but I hope I know my duty to myself too well for that. Isnarled at the base intruder till he was quite ashamed of himself. Iknew from the first that he'd be taught jumping and begging, and thingslike that. I hate those things myself, but that's no reason why everylow dog should be taught them. Miss Daisy called him Tinker, because heonce carried a tin pan about with him, and she tried very hard to makeme friendly to him; but I can choose my own friends, I hope. Every one made a great fuss about one thing he did, but actually it wasnothing but biting; and if biting isn't natural to a dog, I should liketo know what is; and why people should be praised and petted, and havenew collars, and everybody else's share of the bones, only for doingwhat is quite natural to them, I have never been able to comprehend. Besides, barking is as good as biting, any day, and I'm sure I barkedenough, though it wasn't my business. Miss Daisy had gone away to stay with her cousins in London, and she hadtaken Trap with her. Why she should have taken him instead of me is amatter on which I can offer no opinion. If my opinion had been asked, Ishould have said that I thought it more suitable for her to have a heavymiddle-aged dog of good manners than a harum-scarum young stripling likeTrap. Trap told me afterwards that he thought the reason he was takenwas because Miss Daisy would have had more to pay for the dog-ticket ofsuch a heavy dog as I am; but I can't believe that dogs are charged forby the weight, like butter. As I was saying, Miss Daisy took Trap withher, and also her father and mother; and Tinker and I were left to takecare of the servants. We had a very agreeable time, though I confessthat I missed Miss Daisy more than I would have believed possible. Butthere was more to eat in the kitchen than usual, and the servants oftenleft things on the table when they went out to take in the milk or tochat with the gardeners; and if people leave things on tables, they haveonly themselves to thank for whatever happens. There was a young man who wore a fur cap, and who used to call withfish; and I was more surprised than I care to own when I met him walkingout with cook one Sunday afternoon, for I thought she had a soul abovefish; yet when the servants began to ask this young man to tea in thekitchen, I thought, of course, it must be all right, but Tinker would donothing but growl the whole time the young man was there; so that atlast cook had to lock us up in the butler's pantry till the young manwas gone. _I_ had not growled, but I was locked in too. The world isfull of injustice and ingratitude. Now one night, when the servants went to bed, Tinker and I lay down inour baskets under the hall table as usual; but Tinker was dreadfullyrestless, which must have been only an accident, because he said himselfhe didn't know what was the matter with him; and he would not go tosleep, but kept walking up and down as if he were going to hide a boneand couldn't find a good place for it. "Do lie down, for goodness' sake, Tinker, " I said, "and go to sleep. Anyone can see you have not been brought up in a house where regular hoursare kept. " "I can't go to sleep; I don't know what's the matter with me, " he saidgloomily. Well, I tried to go to sleep myself, and I think I must almost havedropped off, when I heard a scrape-scraping from the butler's pantry. Iwasn't going to bark. It wasn't my business. I have often heard MissDaisy's relations say that I was no house-dog. Still, I think Tinkerought to have barked then, but he didn't: only just pricked his ears andhis tail; and he waited, and the scraping went on. Then Tinker said to me--"Don't you make a noise, for your life; I amgoing to see what it is;" and he trotted softly into the butler'spantry. It was rather dark, but you know we dogs can see as well as catsin the dark, although they do make such a fuss about it, and declarethat they are the only creatures who can. There was a man outside the window, and I tapped Tinker with my tail toshow him that he ought to bark, but he never moved. The man had beenscraping and scraping till he had got out one of the window-panes. Itwas a very little window-pane, only just big enough for his hand to gothrough; and the man took out the window-pane and put his hand through, making a long arm to get at the fastening of the window; and just as hewas going to undo the hasp, Tinker made a spring on to the window-ledge, and he caught the man's hand in his mouth, and the man gave a push, andTinker fell off the window-ledge, but he took the man's hand with him;and there was the man's arm dragged through the window-pane, and Tinkerhanging on to his fingers. The man broke some more panes and tried to get his other hand through, and if he had he would have done for Tinker, but he could not manage it;and now I thought "This is the time to bark, " and I barked. I barked mybest, I barked nobly, though I am not a house-dog, and I don't thinkit's my business. In less than a minute down came the gardener and the under-gardener: andTinker was still holding on, and they took the man, and he was marchedoff to prison, and it turned out to be the man in the fur cap. Butthough they made fuss enough about Tinker's share in the business, youmay be sure it didn't make me think much more of him. I should never have had anything to say to him but for one thing. Earlyone morning we three dogs--it's all over long ago, and I hope I can begenerous and let bygones be bygones; he is one of _us_ now--went out fora run in the paddock by the wood, and while Trap and I were trotting upand down chatting about the weather, that Tinker dog bolted into thewood, and in less than a minute came out with a rabbit. I saw at once that he could never get it eaten before Miss Daisy cameout, and I knew that, if he were found with it, his sufferings would beawful. So I helped him to eat it. I know my duty to a fellow-creature, Itrust. It was a very young rabbit, and tender. Not too much fur. Furgets in your throat, and spoils your teeth, besides. We had justfinished it when my mistress came out. Trap would not eat a bit, even tohelp Tinker out of his scrape, but _I_ have a kind heart. Well, after that I thought I might as well consent to be friends withTinker, in spite of his low breeding. You see, I had helped him out of adreadful scrape, and one always feels kindly to people one has helped. He has caught several more rabbits since then, and I have always stoodby him on those occasions, and I always mean to. I am not one to turn myback on a friend, I believe. So now he has a collar like ours, and I hardly feel degraded at all whenI sit opposite to him at the doll's tea-parties. Rats! "HE has no nose, " said my master; "he is a handsome dog, but he has nonose. " This annoyed me very much, for I have a nose--a very long, sharp, blacknose. I wear tan boots and gloves, and my coat is a beautiful shinyblack. I am a Manchester terrier, and I fulfil the old instructions for suchdogs. I am _Neckčd like a drakč, _ _Headed like a snakč, _ _Tailed like a ratte, _ _And footed like a catte. _ And then they said I had no nose. But Kerry explained to me that my master did not mean to find fault withthe shape of my nose, but that what he wanted to be understood was thatI had no nose for smelling rats. Kerry has, and he is ridiculously vainof this accomplishment. "And you have no nose, you know, old boy, " said Kerry; "why, you wouldlet the rats run all over you and never know it. " I turned up my nose--my beautiful, pointed, handsome nose--and walkedaway without a word. A few weeks afterwards my master brought home with him some white rats. Kerry was out at the time, but my master showed me the rats through thebars of their cage. He also showed me a boot and a stick. Although Ihave no nose, I was clever enough to put two and two together. Did Imention that there were two rats? We were not allowed to go in the study, either of us, and my master putthe rats there in their cage on the table. That night, when everybody had gone to bed, I said to Kerry, "I may haveno nose, old man, but I smell rats. " Kerry sniffed contemptuously. "You!" said he, curling himself round in his basket; "I don't believeyou could smell an elephant if there were one in the dresser drawer. " I kept my temper. "I am not feeling very well, Kerry, " I said gently, "or I would go and see myself. But I am sure there _are_ rats; I smellthem plainly; they seem to be in the study. " "Go to sleep, " he said; "you're dreaming, old man. " "Why don't you go and see?" I said. "If I didn't feel so very faint, Iwould go myself. " Kerry got out of his basket reluctantly. "I suppose I ought to go, ifyou are quite certain, " he said; and he went. In less than a minute he returned to the kitchen, trembling all overwith excitement. "Chappie!" he said; "Chappie!" "Well?" "There _are_ rats, " he whispered hoarsely; "there are rats in thestudy. " "Did you go in?" I asked. "No, you know we're forbidden to go in, but I smelt them quite plainly. I can't smell them at all here, " he said regretfully. "What a nose youhave got, after all, Chappie!" "What are you going to do, Kerry?" I asked. "Why, nothing, " he said; "we mustn't go in the study. " "Oh, " I said, "rules weren't made for great occasions like this; it'syour business to kill rats wherever they are. " And that misguided wire-haired person went up. He got them out of thecage, and killed them. The next morning, when the master came down, he thrashed Kerry within aninch of his life. He knows I don't touch rats; and, besides, I was sounwell that nobody could have suspected me. And I explained to Kerrythat, good as my nose is, I couldn't possibly tell by the smell that therats were white, and, therefore, sacred. It was not worth while tomention that I had seen them before. Kerry looks up to me now as a dog with a nose, and I am much happierthan formerly. But Kerry is not nearly so keen on rats now. I thoughtsomehow he wouldn't be. The Tables Turned WE knew it was a dog, directly the basket was set down in the hall. Weheard it moving about inside. We sniffed all round. We asked it why itdidn't come out (the basket was tightly tied up with string). "Are youhaving a good time in there?" said Roy. "Can't you show your face?" saidI. "He's ashamed of it, " said Roy, waving his long bushy tail. Then hegrowled a little, and the dog inside growled too; and then, as Roy hadan appointment with the butcher at his own back door, I went out to seehim home. "I am so sorry I am going away for Christmas with my master, " he saidwhen we parted; "but you must introduce that new dog to me when I comehome. We mustn't stand any of his impudence, eh?" I was sorry Roy was going away, for Roy is my great friend. He alwaysfights the battles for both of us. I daresay I might have got into theway of fighting my own battles, but I never like to interfere withanybody's pleasure, and Roy's chief pleasure is fighting. As for me, Ithink the delights of that recreation are over-estimated. When my master came home, he opened the basket, and a dog of Irishfamily tumbled out, growling and snarling, and hid himself under thesofa. They wasted more biscuits on him than I have ever seen wasted onany deserving dog; and at last they got him out, and he consented to eatsome supper. They gave him a much better basket than mine, and we wentto bed. Next morning, the Irish terrier got out of his basket, stretchedhimself, yawned, and insisted on thrashing me before breakfast. "But I am a dog of peace, " I said; "I don't fight. " "But I do, you see, " he answered, "that's just the difference. " I tried to defend myself, but he got hold of one of my feet, and held itup. I sat up, and howled with pain and indignation. "Have you had enough?" he said, and, without waiting for my answer, proceeded to give me more. "But I don't fight, " I said; "I don't approve of fighting. " "Then I'll teach you to have better manners than to say so, " said he, and he taught me for nearly five minutes. "Now then, " he said, "are you licked?" "Yes, " I answered; for indeed I was. "Are you sorry you ever tried to fight with me?" "Yes, " still seemed to be the only thing to say. "And do you approve of fighting?" He seemed to wish me to say "yes, " and so I said it. "Very well, then, " he said; "now we'll be friends, if you like. Comealong; you have given me an appetite for breakfast. " "Any society worth cultivating about here?" he asked, after the meal, inhis overbearing way. "I have a very great friend who lives next door, " I said; "but I don'tknow whether I should care to introduce you to him. " He showed his teeth, and asked what I meant. "You see, you might not like him; and, if you didn't like him----buthe's a most agreeable dog. " "A good fighter?" asked Rustler. I scratched my ear with my hind foot, and pretended to think. "Oh, I see he's not, " said Rustler contemptuously; "well, you shallintroduce him to me directly he comes back. " Rustler's overbearing and disagreeable manners so upset me that I wasquite thin when, at the end of the week, Roy came home. I told him mytroubles at once. "Bring your Rustler along, " he said grandly, "and introduce him to_me_. " So I did. Rustler came along with his ears up, and his miserable tailin the air. Roy lay by his kennel looking the image of serenity andpeacefulness. To judge by his expression, he might not have had a toothin his head. Rustler stood with his feet as far apart as he could get them, and puthis head on one side. "I have heard so much about you, Mr. What's-your-name, " he said, "that Ihave come to make a closer acquaintance. " "Delighted, I'm sure, " said Roy, who has splendid manners. "If you will get on your legs, " said Rustler rudely, "I will tell youwhat I think of you. " Roy got on his legs, still looking very humble, and the next minute hehad Rustler by the front foot, and was making him sit down and screamjust as Rustler had made me. It was a magnificent fight. "Have you had enough?" said Roy, and then gave him more without waitingfor an answer. "I don't want to fight any more, " said Rustler at last; "I am sorry Ispoke. " "Then I'll teach you to have more pluck than to own it, " said Roy. When he had taught him for some time, he said, "Are you licked?" "Yes, " said Rustler, glaring at me out his uninjured eye. "Are you sorry you tried to fight with me?" "Yes. " "Will you promise to leave my little friend here alone?" "Yes. " Then Roy let him go. We shook tails all round, and Rustler and I wenthome. "Poor Rustler, " I said, "I know exactly how you feel. " "You little humbug, " he said, with half a laugh--for he is not anill-natured fellow when you come to know him--"you managed it verycleverly, and I'm not one to bear malice; but, I say, your friend isA1. " We are now the most united trio, and Roy and Rustler have licked all theother dogs in the neighbourhood. A Noble Dog ROVER would go into the water fast enough for a bathe or a swim, but hewould not bring anything out. The children used to throw in sticks, andRover and I used to bound in together; but I would bring the stick back, while he swam round and round, enjoying himself. I am not vain, but I could not help feeling how much superior I was tosuch a dog as Rover. He is a prize Newfoundland, and I am only a humbleretriever of obscure family. So one day I said to him-- "Why don't you fetch the sticks out when the children throw them in?" "I don't care about sticks, " he said. "But it's so grand and clever to be able to fetch them out. " "Is it?" he answered. "I know it is, for the children tell me so. " "Do they?" he said. "I wonder you are not ashamed, " I went on, a little nettled by hismeekness, "never to do anything useful. I should be, if I were you. " "Ah, " he said, "but you see you are not. Good night. " We used to spend a great deal of time by the river. The children lovedto play there, and we dogs were always expected to go with them. One day, as I was lying asleep on the warm grass by the river bank, Iheard a splash. I jumped in, but there was no stick, only one of thechildren floating down on the stream, and screaming whenever her headcame from under the water. I thought it was a new kind of game, not very interesting, so I swam outagain; and just as I was shaking the water out of my ears, I heardanother great flop, and there was Rover in the water, holding on to thechild's dress. He pulled her out some ten yards down the stream; and oh!if you could have seen the fuss that the master and mistress and therest of the children made of that black and white spotted person! "Why, Rover, " I said afterwards, when we had got home and weretalking it over, "whatever made you think that the child wanted to bepulled out of the water?" "It's my business to pull people out of the water, " he said. "But, " I urged, "I always thought you were too stupid to understandthings. " "Did you?" he said, turning his mild eyes on me. "Why didn't you explain to me that you----" "My dear dog, " he said, "I never think it worth while to fetch sticksout of the water, and I never think it worth while to explain things tostupid people. " The Dyer's Dog SHE was beautiful, with a strange unearthly beauty. She had a littleblack nose. Her eyes were small, but bright and full of charm. Her earswere long and soft, and her tail curled like one of the ostrich plumesin the window of the dyer with whom she lived. I have met many little dogs with noses as charming, and eyes as bright, and tails as curly; but never one who, like my Bessie, was a rich, deeppink all over. I lived with a baker then. I was sitting on his doorstep when she firstdelighted my eyes. I ran across the road to give her good morning. Sheseemed pleased to see me. We had a little chat about the weather and theother dogs in the street, and about buns, and rats, and the vices of thedomestic cat. Her manners and her conversation were as bright and charming as hereyes. Before we parted, we had made an appointment for the nextafternoon, and as I said good-bye, I ventured to ask-- "How is it, lady, that you are of such a surpassingly beautiful colour?" "It is natural to our family, " she said, tossing her pretty ears. "Mymother was the Royal Crimson Dog at the Court of the King of India. " I bowed with deep respect and withdrew, for I heard them calling me athome. The next day I looked for my beautiful pink-coloured lady, but I lookedin vain. Instead, a dog of a bright sky-blue, with a yellow ribbon roundits neck, sat in the sun on the dyer's doorstep. Yet, could I bemistaken? That nose, those ears, that feathery tail, those bright andbeaming eyes! I went across. She received me with some embarrassment, whichdisappeared as I talked gaily of milk and guinea pigs, and the habits ofthe cats'-meat man. Before we parted I said-- "You have changed your dress. " "Yes, " she said, "it's so common and vulgar to wear always one colour. " "But I thought"--I hesitated--"that your mother was the Royal CrimsonDog at the Court of----" "So she was, " replied the lady promptly, "but my father was thewell-known sky-blue terrier at the Crystal Palace Dog Show. I resembleboth my parents. " I retired, fascinated by her high breeding and graceful explanations. Through my dreams that night wandered a long procession of blue andcrimson dogs. The next day, when I hurried to keep the appointment she had been goodenough to make with me, I found her a deep purple. Again I concealed mysurprise, while we talked of subjects of common interest, of dog-collarsand chains and kennels, of biscuits, bones, and the outrage of themuzzling order; and at last I said-- "You have changed your dress again. Your mother was the Royal----" "Oh, don't, " she said, "it's so tiresome to keep repeating things. Myfather was red and my mother was blue, and I myself, as you see, ampurple. Don't you know that crimson and blue make purple? Any child witha shilling box of paints could have told you that. " I thanked her, and came away. Purple seemed to me the most beautifulcolour in the world. But the next day she was green--as green as grass. After the customaryexchange of civilities, I remarked firmly-- "Blue and crimson may make purple, but----" "But green is my favourite colour, " she said briskly. "I suppose a dogis not to be bound down by the prejudices of its parents?" I went away very sadly, and, as I went, I noticed that there were somecurtains in the dyer's window of exactly the same tint as my friend'sdress. The next day she was gone. I sought her in vain. The day after, a French poodle appeared on thedyer's doorstep, dressed in stripes of orange and scarlet. I went boldlyacross to him. "Good morning, old man; how do you come to be that colour?" I said. "They dye me so, " he answered gloomily. "It's a dreadful lot for a dogthat respects himself. " I never saw Bessie but once again. She seemed then to be living with atinsmith, and her colour was a gingery white. I hope I am too much of a gentleman to taunt any lady in misfortune, butI couldn't help saying-- "Why don't you wear any of your beautiful coloured dresses now?" She answered me curtly, for she saw that she had ceased to charm. "I gave up wearing my pretty dresses, " she said, "because silly peopleasked me so many questions about them. " As usual, I accepted her explanations in silence; but, when I see thepoodle opposite, in his varying glories of blue, and green, and orange, and purple, I can't help thinking that perhaps my fair Bessie did notalways speak the truth. The Vain Setter OURS is one of the most ancient and noble families in the land, and Icontend that family pride is an exalted sentiment. I still hold to thisbelief, in spite of all the sufferings that it has brought upon me. My father, whose ancestor came over with the Conqueror, has taken prizesat many a county show; and my mother, the handsomest of her sex, tookone prize, and would have taken more, but for the unfortunate accidentof having her tail cut off in a door. I early determined to be worthy of my high breeding and undoubteddescent. A setter should have long, silky ears. I made my brother pullmine gently for an hour at a time. In order to lengthen them, I combedtheir fringes with my paws. My father's brow is lofty and narrow. The unfortunate accident whichremoved my mother from public life, suggested to me a way of cultivatingour most famous family characteristic. I used to place my head betweenthe doorpost and the door, while my brother leaned gently against thelatter, so as to press my skull to the requisite shape. My legs, I knew, ought to be straight. I never indulged in any of those field-sports, towhich my brother early turned a light-hearted attention; for I knewthat undue exercise tends to curve the legs. My tail was my special care. Regardless of comfort, I twisted myselfinto the shape of a capital O, and, holding the end of my tail gently, but firmly, in my teeth, I stretched myself and it. So much pains devoted to such a noble object could not be thrown away. Ibecame the handsomest setter in the three counties. My brother, in the meantime, grew expert in the coarse sportingexercises to which he devoted his energies. He had no pride. He trampedthe mud of the fields; he tore his ears in bramble bushes; and I haveseen him so far lose all sense of our family's dignity as to grovel atthe feet of his master, and raise one of his paws, to indicate thatbirds were near--common birds; I believe they are called partridges. "You might as well, " I said to him bitterly--"you might as well havebeen born a pointer. " "Why not?" he said. "I know a pointer, " he went on, laughing in hismerry, careless way--"I know a pointer who lives at the Pines Farm. Acapital fellow he is. " "My dear boy, " I said, "just come and squeeze my head in the door alittle, will you? and let me tell you that for one of our family toassociate with a pointer is social ruin--common, coarse, smooth-coatedpersons, related, I should suppose, to the vulgar plum-pudding dog. " My brother only laughed; but he was a good-natured fellow, and pinchedmy head in the door until my forehead could stand the strain no longer. I was sent to the Crystal Palace Dog Show; and, as I looked round on thehundreds of dogs of all families and nationalities, I breathed a sighof contentment, and blessed the fate that had made me, in this Englandof ours, a well-born English setter. My brother was not at the Show, ofcourse; but I think even he would have admired me if he could have seenhow far superior I was to all about me. Of course, I took the firstprize. My mission was fulfilled: my family pride was satisfied. Thejudges unanimously pronounced me to be the most perfect and beautifulsporting dog in the whole Show. My master, wild with delight, patted mysilky forehead, and then turned aside to talk with a stout gentleman ingaiters. I thought of what my life would be--one long, joyous round of shows, applause, pats on the head from a grateful master, delicious food andfirst prizes. But my master's base nature--his ancestors came over with George andthe Hanoverians--struck all my hopes to the ground. I woke from mydream of triumph to find myself sold to the stout man in gaiters. I never saw my brother again. I was never able to tell my fond anddoting mother that I, like her, had taken a prize. I was never able tochat with my father over a bone, comparing with him experiences of theshow bench. The stout, gaitered man took me away into a far country. The next morning he took me out into the fields, and looked at me fromtime to time, as if he expected me to do something. Unwilling todisappoint him, I sat down and began my usual exercise for lengtheningmy tail. He at once struck me violently. We went a little farther, and Inoticed that he looked more and more displeased; but I could not imaginewhat it could be that so distressed him. Presently one of those commonpartridge birds had the impertinence to fly out close to me. I caught itat once, and looked round for applause. There only came another showerof blows. "What's the good of your taking prizes, " he said, "if you're such anidiot in the field?--might as well have a greyhound. " "I wish you had, " I said under my breath. I spent a week in torment, and then it occurred to me that thislow-born, gaitered person would have been better pleased with mybrother. So I tried to recall the tricks with which my brother hadparticularly aggravated me; and, the next time I smelt a partridge, Ilay down, as I had seen my brother do, and lifted a foolish foot. I wasrewarded with a pat and encouragement. I have now sunk entirely to my brother's level. My master pronounces meto be a most excellent sporting dog. But I shall never forget the blowsand angry words that were necessary to make me renounce my ideal of whata setter should be; and deep in my heart I still cherish, withpassionate devotion, my views on duty, and my honourable family pride. Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. Edinburgh & London