e time when he thought Tom
would go up to the bedroom to set the trap, went up himself, tied the
string to the latch of the door, having previously put a tin pan and
wash basin on the top of the bundle, then put the old cat in the
closet, and came down stairs.

"When do you go to bed, George?" said Tom.

"At the usual time," said George, quietly. Up ran Tom to prepare the
entertainment for his brother, and opened the door fearing
nothing--bang slam came great bundle, tin kettle and wash basin, and
out jumped the great black cat, howling and spitting at the racket.

Tom forgot he was the big brave boy, and scampering, like lightning,
down stairs, he slipped, fell, and was brought in faint from fright,
and with a bleeding nose.

His father inquired what had frightened him so. George told what he had
done.

His father blamed him severely.

"Blame us, father," said the other boys.

"It is only the biter bitten," said Tom. "I am justly punished. I was
the oldest, and I only am really to blame. It is all right that I
suffered instead of poor George."

Then their father gathered them around him, and told them stories of
the evil consequences he had known follow from being severely
frightened.

The children all promised him never to commit such a fault again; and I
believe they kept their word.

"But I am too long, and am growing prosy."

"So you are," bounced the musket.

"An ugly, impertinent contrivance, called a grate, was introduced in
lieu of us--black, dirty coal was burned instead of beautiful oak and
walnut, to warm the dear family. We were no longer of any use. Poetry
went away with the andirons, sentiment and refinement are obsolete, and
here we stand, the head and foot-stones, as it seems to me, at the
grave of the dear old-fashioned buried past.

"I have done. Please, friend tea-kettle, favor us with your
experiences."

"My story has nothing extraordinary in it," said the tea-kettle. "Like
most of my friends, I have had my ups and downs in the world.

I had the honor of being made in the mother country. I am of the very
best of tin; what there is left of me is still pretty good. When that
little girl's parents were married, I first took my place in the
family, and contributed my part to the adornment of the kitchen closet.
I was kept as bright as silver, and was carried, twice a day, into the
parlor, and set upon some red-hot coals, where I used to sing my
morning and evening song to the happy