To wash his hands and save the floshing,
Outside the door Jim did his washing,
But soon returned in haste and fright—
"Mother, aw come! and see the sight;
Up on our house there's such a row,
Millions of cats es up there now!"
Jim's mother stared, and well she might;
She knew that Jim had not said right.
"'Millions of cats,' you said; now worn't it so?"
"Why, iss," said Jim, "and I beleeve ut too;
Not millions p'rhaps, but thousands must be theere,
And fiercer cats than they you'll never hear;
They're spitting, yowling, and the fur is flying,
Some of 'em's dead, I s'pose, and some is dying;
Such dismal groans I'm sure you never heard,
Aw, mother! ef you ded, you'd be affeered."
"Not I," said Jinny; "no, not I, indeed;
A hundred cats out theere, thee'st never seed."
Said Jim, "I doan't knaw 'zackly to a cat,
They must be laarge wauns, then, to do like that;
LOST.
How beautiful she was in her superb calmness, so graceful, so mild, and yet so majestic! Ah! I was a younger man then, of course, than I am now, and possibly more impressionable; but I thought her then the most perfect creature I had ever beheld. And even now, looking back through the gathering mists of time and the chilling frosts of advancing age, and recalling what she was, I endorse that earlier sentiment—she lives in my memory now, as she lived in my presence then, as the most perfect creature I ever beheld.
I had gone the round of all the best boarding-houses in town, when, at last, I went to Mrs. Honeywold's, and there, in her small, unpretending establishment, I, General Leslie Auchester, having been subdued, I trust, to a proper and humble state of mind by my past experiences, agreed to take up my abode.
And it was there I first met her! Hers was the early maturity of loveliness, perfect in repose, with mild, thoughtful eyes, intelligent and tender, a trifle sad at times, but lighting up with quick brilliancy as some new object met her view, or some vivid thought darted its lightning flash through her brain—for she was wonderfully quick of perception—with an exquisite figure, splendidly symmetrical, yet swaying and supple as a young willow, and with unstudied grace in every quick, sinewy motion.
She spent little upon dress (I was sure she was not wealthy); but though there was little variety, her dress was always exquisitely neat and in perfect good taste, of some soft glossy fabric, smooth as silk and lustrous as satin, and of the softest shade of silver-gray, that colour so beautiful in itself, and so becoming to beautiful wearers; simply made, but fitting with a nicety more like the work of nature than of art to every curve and outline of that full and stately figure, and finished off round her white throat with something scarcely whiter.