nence.
The screams of the young Puss, and the loud and angry tones of Senhor
Dickie (for I grieve to say he swore dreadfully), brought all her family
out-of-doors, who, seeing the chastisement, and without inquiring
whether it was deserved, fell upon poor Senhor Dickie in a body, and so
ill-treated him, tearing his very coat off his back, that he was forced
to run limping away, nor did he ever again venture to make his
appearance in the neighbourhood.

[Illustration: ONE TOO MANY.]

When my poor companion had thus been forced to take to flight, all the
anger of the enraged creatures fell on me. As I made my way into the
house, hisses, screams, the most horrible sounds the Cat tribe are
capable of uttering, broke from the numerous family; and, what was
worse, the uproar having brought all my neighbours out-of-doors, the
greatest falsehoods were told them about the origin of the dispute, and
I had not strength to raise my voice in order to explain the truth.
Finding there was no chance of obtaining justice, or even a hearing,
from my prejudiced judges, I walked slowly into the house, apparently
indifferent to what they were saying about my slyness and my cruelty;
but as soon as I got in-doors all my calmness vanished. Sorrow,
confusion, anger, so warred together in my bosom, that my Cat's frame
could bear it no longer. I fell to the ground in a fainting fit, and
was conveyed to bed by my servants, where I remained several days, a
prey to as much unpleasant feeling as if I were really the cruel Puss my
neighbours accused me of being, and as if it were really true that I had
persuaded poor Senhor Dickie to fall upon the little spy out of spite
towards her family.

REFLECTIONS AND RESOLUTIONS.

There is no place so conducive to reflection as the quiet of one's
bedchamber, when confined to it by sickness. It is true, when the
illness is violent, pain for the time excludes every thought beyond that
of the actual suffering,--for pain makes us all very, very selfish; but
when the bodily suffering is over, and our meditations come back into
their usual channel; when we are in a state of convalescence, and are
about shortly to resume our intercourse with the world, a crowd of
thoughts comes trooping from our brains, and we live over again much of
our former lives, and imagine beforehand scenes of our life to come.

At least it was so with me. When I had recovered from the fever into
which the disagreeable events rela