rt the poor old cat,
There can be no fun in that;
And it would be cruel too--
She never tried to injure you.

She, for years, has kept the house
Free from thievish rat and mouse;
Puss has always faithful been,
And has kept herself so clean.

True, she now is getting old,
Though she once was strong and bold;
At her prey she cannot leap,
And, if caught, can scarcely keep.

Poor old puss! 'Twould be a shame
Thee for uselessness to blame;
When though canst not active be--
Useless through infirmity.

In the Park

I'm a rich little kitten:
I live at my ease,

I keep my own carriage,
I go where I please;

My turn-out is stylish,
I nothing neglect,

And often I notice
That all recollect

That a rich little kitten
Deserves much respect.

[Illustration: Our Kitten in her Perambulator.]

[Illustration: Our Puss and her Dog Carriage.]

[Illustration: Our Puss and her Chicken Coach.]

[Page 160--More Pussy Land]

[Illustration: Cats playing piano, violin, and singing.]

The Dead Kitten

Don't talk to me of parties, Nan;
I really cannot go;
When folks are in affliction
They don't go out, you know.
I have a new brown sash, too;
It seems a pity--eh?
That such a dreadful trial
Should have come just yesterday!

The play-house blinds are all pulled down
As dark as it can be;
It looks so very solemn
And so proper, don't you see?
And I have a piece of crape
Pinned on my dolly's hat,
Tom says it is ridiculous
For only just a cat.

But boys are all so horrid!
They always, every one,
Delight in teasing little girls
And kitties, "just for fun."
The way he used to pull her tail--
It makes me angry now--
And scat her up the cherry tree,
To make the darling "meow!"

I've had her all the summer.
One day, away last spring,
I heard a frightful barking,
And I saw the little thing
In the corner of a fence;
'T would have made you laugh outright
To see how every hair stood out,
And how she tried to fight.

I shooed the dog away,
And she jumped upon my arm;
The pretty creature knew
I wouldn't do her any harm;
I hugged her close, and carried her
To mamma, and she said
She should be my own wee kitty,
If I'd see that she was fed.

A cunning little dot she was,
With silky, soft, grey fur;
She'd lie