A CAT STORY.
A philosophical old gentleman was one day passing a new school-house, erected somewhere towards the setting sun borders of our glorious Union, when his attention was suddenly attracted to a crowd of persons gathered around the door. He inquired of a boy, whom he met, what was going on.
"Well, nothin', 'cept the skule committy, and they're goin' in."
"A committee meets to-day! What for?"
"Well," continued the boy, "you see Bill, that's our biggest boy, got mad at the teacher, and so he went all round and gathered dead cats. Nothin' but cats, and cats, and cats. Oh! it was orful, them cats!"
"Pshaw! what have the cats to do with the school committee?"
"Now, well, you see Bill kept a bringing cats and cats; allers a pilin' them up yonder," pointing to a huge pile as large in extent as a pyramid, and considerably aromatic, "and he piled them. Nothing but cats, cats!"
"Never mind, my son, what Bill did; what has the committee met for?"
"Then Bill got sick haulin' them, and everybody got sick a nosin' them, but Bill got madder, and didn't give it up, but kept a pilin' up the cats and—"
"Can you tell what the committee are holding a meeting for?"
"Why, the skule committy are goin' to hold a meetin' up here to say whether they'll move the skule house or the cats."
The old gentleman evaporated immediately.