[ LETTER FROM TOM GRIMALKIN TO HIS MOTHER. ]
My Dear Mamma Grimalkin: How could you let Miss Nipper take me away from you? I am so miserable, that I have not run around after my tail once since I came here. There's nothing here to amuse me, not even a fly in the room to catch, for Miss Nipper won't have one about. There she sits, knitting—knitting—knitting—in the chimney corner. If she'd only drop her ball now and then, it would be quite a pretty little excitement for me to chase it round, you know; but she never drops her ball, nor her handkerchief, nor even leaves an old shoe round for me to toss about—and as to playing with her apron strings, I should as soon think of jumping into the cradle of Queen Victoria's baby.
I should like to hop up in the chairs now and then, by way of variety, but I don't dare,—or up on the window seats, to see what's going on in the street; but she won't let me. Goodness knows she needn't be afraid my paws are dirty, for I haven't been over the threshold since I came here, for a breath of fresh air; beside, every morning she souses me head over heels in a tub of water, till I hear all sorts of sounds, and see all sorts of sights; and then roasts my brains out drying me between the andirons. Ah, it's very well for people to talk about "leading a dog's life of it." I say, let 'em try a cat's.
Now I am about old enough to begin to go into society a little, and there are a plenty of well-bred cats here in the neighborhood, with beautiful voices, who give free concerts every moonlight night, but Miss Nipper won't let me stir a paw. I don't think I shall stand it much longer; for the other day, when she went out of the room, I hopped up on the table, and noticed that my whiskers had begun to grow considerable large, and that set me to examining my claws. You understand!
How does Tabby do? Have you weaned her yet? Don't she ever feel sorry, now I am away, that she used to nurse so much more than her share? She needs to have you cuff her ears now and then, that Tabby. She never had any sisterly affection for me, although one of my eyes was a week longer getting open than hers. I shan't forget it in a hurry. I often think it over, as I lie here on the hearth-rug, listening to the everlasting click, click of Miss Nipper's knitting-needles. Oh, it's a very hard case, Mother Grimalkin, for a kitty with such a warm heart, and such a frisky disposition as I have, to do nothing but think such miserable thoughts, and lie here staring the ashes in the fire-place out of countenance.
Miss Nipper is so stingy of her milk, too, that my ribs are all pricking through my fur; besides, you will be concerned to learn that I'm growing up as ignorant as a young Hottentot: for how can I learn to catch mice, boxed up in a parlor without any closets? Answer me that, and please write soon to your afflicted son,
Tom Grimalkin.
[ WHAT CAME OF AN OMNIBUS RIDE,
AND
"ONE PULL TO THE RIGHT!" ]