A CAT STORY.
ID you ever see a cat laugh? Look at the cat in the picture, and see if she is not laughing. It is plain to me that she is.
What is she laughing at? Why, that is plain enough too. She is amused at the talk of those two little girls about her kittens.
There are four kittens,—just two for each; but little Jenny wants to take them all up in her arms, though she can hardly hold more than one. This is what pleases the old cat.
Now I am going to tell you a cat story.
Once, when I taught school in the country, I boarded at farmer Clark's house, where there were sixteen cats,—Yes, sixteen cats! There was a big yellow cat, and a big gray cat, and a big black-and-white cat, and lots of little kittens.
The big gray cat was named Gussy. She was the grandmother of them all. She lived in the house. The rest staid around the barn. Farmer Clark was a good man, and did not believe in killing any thing that was not dangerous to life or property. So no little kittens were drowned, if he knew it.
Mrs. Clark taught me how to make butter; and I was told to feed the skimmed milk to the cats. There were two large dish-pans that I used for this purpose. They were shallow and leaky; but precious little time there was for the milk to leak.
As soon as I appeared at the door, and called, "Tom, Tom!" the cats came tumbling, pell-mell, mewing, and rubbing against me. It was a sight to see.
First, there would be a thick row of cats around the pans,—so thick that only sixteen tails and thirty-two hind-legs could be seen. The next minute the heads would go lower, and the fore-paws would go up on the edge of the pans.
Then a kitten would jump in. Then they would all fight, and push, and spit, and snarl to get to the lower side of the pan, where the milk was the deepest.
And then it was all gone. And the pans would be licked clean. And then sixteen tongues licked sixteen jaws, and thirty-two eyes appealed for more. But it was no use to beg. Then sixty-four legs trotted off, and only old Gussy went into the house; while the others went to the barn.
There were no rats or mice around those premises, I tell you. I often wonder how many cats there are at farmer Clark's now. And sometimes I dream about them. This is a true story.
AUNT FAN.
