KETURAH, THE CAT.
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.
The next morning, I asked my mother for a name for pussy. She laughed and gave me “Keturah,”—saying that it was a good Sunday name, but that I might call her Kitty, for short.
Soon, I am happy to say, all the family grew to liking my pet very much, and I became exceedingly fond and proud of her. Every night when I returned from school, I thought I could see an improvement in her, till I came to consider her a kitten of prodigious talent. I have seen many cats in my day, and I still think that Keturah was very bright. She could perform a great many wonderful exploits,—such as playing hide and seek with me, all through the house, and lying on her back perfectly still, and pretending to be dead. I made her a little cloak, cap, and bonnet, and she would sit up straight, dressed in them, on a little chair, for all the world like some queer old woman. Once, after I had been to the menagerie, I made her a gay suit of clothes, and taught her to ride my brother’s little dog, as I had seen the monkey ride the pony. She, in her turn, was very fond of me, and would follow me whenever she could.
It happened that when Kitty was about a year old, and quite a sizable cat, I became very much interested in some religious meetings which were held on every Wednesday evening in the village church, about half a mile from our house. I really enjoyed them very much, for I loved our minister, who was a good and kind man, and I always felt a better and happier child after hearing him preach, even though I did not understand all that he said. One evening it chanced that there were none going from our house; but my mother, who saw that I was sadly disappointed, gave me leave to go with a neighbouring family, who never missed a meeting of the sort. But when I reached Deacon Wilson’s, I found that they were already gone. Yet, as it was not quite dark, I went on by myself, intending, if I did not overtake them, to go directly to their pew. I had not gone far before I found Kitty at my heels. I spoke as crossly as I could to her, and sent her back,—looking after her till she was out of sight. But just as I reached the church, she came bounding over the fence, and went trotting along before me. Now, what could I do? I felt that it would be very wicked to take a cat to meeting, but I feared that, if I left her outside, she might be lost, or stolen, or killed. So I took her up under my shawl, and went softly into church. I dared not carry her to Deacon Wilson’s pew, which was just before the pulpit, but sat down in the farther end of the first slip, behind a pillar, and with nobody near.
I was very sorry to find that it was not our handsome, young minister that preached, but an old man and a stranger. His sermon may have been a fine one, for the grown-up people, but it struck me as rather dull. I had been a strawberrying that afternoon, and was sadly tired,—and the cat in my lap purred so drowsily, that I soon found my eyes closing, and my head nodding wisely to every thing the minister said. I tried every way to keep awake, but it was of no use. I finally fell asleep, and slept as soundly as I ever slept in my life.
When I awoke at last, I did not know where I was. All was dark around me, and there was the sound of rain without. The meeting was over, the people had all gone, without having seen me, and I was alone in the old church at midnight!
As soon as I saw how it was, I set up a great cry, and shrieked and called at the top of my voice. But nobody heard me,—for the very good reason that nobody lived anywhere near. I will do Kitty the justice to say, that she showed no fear at this trying time, but purred and rubbed against me, as much as to say,—“Keep a good heart, my little mistress!”
O, ’twas a dreadful place in which to be, in the dark night!—There, where I had heard such awful things preached about, before our new minister came, who loved children too well to frighten them but who chose rather to talk about our good Father in Heaven, and the dear Saviour, who took little children in his arms and blessed them. I thought of Him then, and when I had said my prayers I felt braver, and had courage enough to go and try the doors; but all were locked fast. Then I sat down and cried more bitterly than ever, but Kitty purred cheerfully all the time.
At last I remembered that I had seen one of the back-windows open that evening,—perhaps I might get out through that. So I groped my way up the broad aisle, breathing hard with awe and fear. As I was passing the pulpit, there came a clap of thunder which jarred the whole building, and the great red Bible, which lay on the black velvet cushions of the desk, fell right at my feet! I came near falling myself, I was so dreadfully scared; but I made my way to the window, which I found was open by the rain beating in. But though I stretched myself up on tiptoe, I could not quite reach the sill. Then I went back by the pulpit and got the big Bible, which I placed on the floor edgeways against the wall, and by that help I clambered to the window. I feared I was a great sinner to make such use of the Bible, and such a splendid book too, but I could not help it. I put Kitty out first, and then swung myself down. It rained a little, and was so dark that I could see nothing but my white kitten, who ran along before me, and was both a lantern and a guide. I hardly know how I got home, but there I found myself at last. All was still, but I soon roused the whole house; for, when the danger and trouble were over, I cried the loudest with fright and cold. My mother had supposed that Deacon Wilson’s family had kept me for the night, as I often stayed with them, and had felt no anxiety for me.