History of my pets

KETURAH THE KITTEN.
BY GRACE GREENWOOD.
WITH ENGRAVINGS FROM DESIGNS BY BILLINGS.
NEW EDITION, REVISED AND ENLARGED.
BOSTON: JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY, (Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.) 1871.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, BY SARA J. CLARKE, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, BY JAMES R. OSGOOD & CO., in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co., Cambridge.
Re-dedicated TO MARCEL, FRED, FANNY, AND FRANK BAILEY, OF WASHINGTON, D. C.
HISTORY OF MY PETS.
The first pet, in whose history you would take any interest, came into my possession when I was about nine years old. I remember the day as plainly as I remember yesterday. I was going home from school, very sad and out of humor with myself, for I had been marked deficient in Geography, and had gone down to the very foot in the spelling-class. On the way I was obliged to pass a little old log-house, which stood near the road, and which I generally ran by in a great hurry, as the woman who lived there had the name of being a scold and a sort of a witch. She certainly was a stout, ugly woman, who drank a great deal of cider, and sometimes beat her husband,—which was very cruel, as he was a mild, little man, and took good care of the baby while she went to mill. But that day I trudged along carelessly and slowly, for I was too unhappy to be afraid, even of that dreadful woman. Yet I started, and felt my heart beat fast, when she called out to me. “Stop, little girl!” she said; “don’t you want this ’ere young cat?” and held out a beautiful white kitten. I ran at once and caught it from her hands, thanking her as well as I could, and started for home, carefully covering pussy’s head with my pinafore, lest she should see where I took her, and so know the way back. She was rather uneasy, and scratched my arms a good deal;—but I did not mind that, I was so entirely happy in my new pet. When I reached home, and my mother looked more annoyed than pleased with the little stranger, and my father and brothers would take no particular notice of her, I thought they must be very hard-hearted indeed, not to be moved by her beauty and innocence. My brother William, however, who was very obliging, and quite a mechanic, made a nice little house, or “cat-cote,” as he called it, in the back-yard, and put in it some clean straw for her to lie on. I then gave her a plentiful supper of new milk, and put her to bed with my own hands. It was long before I could sleep myself that night, for thinking of my pet. I remember I dreamed that little angels came to watch over me, as I had been told they would watch over good children, but that, when they came near to my bedside, they all turned into white kittens and purred over my sleep.