ever had to test the delights of easy chairs. I was driven out with stones and bits of wood till I gladly found refuge for my poor bruised body in the cellar. There I lay in hunger and pain, my heart filled with bitterness toward all mankind. I felt the injustice, if only a poor cat.

It was a great neighborhood for cats, and I soon made friends with them. I was perfectly reckless, and caterwauled with them, joining their midnight revels with all my heart. We cared not for bottles or bootjacks, but made night terrible. Why should we keep quiet? We had no homes, no nice beds, no friend to speak to us. Why should we care to please those who remembered us only to abuse us?

Now this is all very sad. Since I have seen what life ought to be, in this dear home, I wish with all my heart I had earlier known these good people. I am very thankful that you, my only living child, will grow up in this refined atmosphere.

To return to my dismal history. Soon after my introduction to the nightly revels, I had my first kittens. I never was so happy in my life. Though I had suffered all alone the most severe pain, the dear little creatures compensated me for my hours of anguish. There were four of them. Two of them were black, and two of them gray. Such perfect little creatures, I was delighted with them. Though we had only an ash-heap for our bed, I kept them on my fur, and did not care for the ashes on my own nice fur coat. No mother on her bed of down, with laces and embroideries around her, could have kept her children nicer than I kept mine.

I followed just the instinct my Maker gave me, and what came after was from no fault of mine, but from the wickedness of human nature, which has unsettled my beliefs and made me a sceptical and unbelieving cat.

I hated to leave my kittens to take my food. How I fought for the best I could get, to nourish them! I swallowed things I had always disliked, for I was determined to carry back milk enough for all four of them.

This happiness lasted but a short time. The tyrant of the family, a dreadful boy of ten years, discovered them one morning. With shouts of delight, he took them and dropped them, one by one, into a pail of scalding hot water.

The cook called to him and tried to remove the pail, but it was too late; he continued his cruel work till my four dear little kittens were lost to me forever.

When I heard their last feeble wail, I tried to save them or share their fate. I was driven back with laughter, and the blows from a huge stick in the hands of the young murderer soon drove me down to the cellar, where I lay bruised, and oblivious of my pain and loss, for some hours.

Late at night I crawled out, faint and hungry, a hopeless outcast on the face of the earth. Tom, one of the neighbors' cats, shared his supper with me, and listened with sympathy to my sad story.

"Oh, is that all?" he said, when I had finished. "You may be glad they are dead, and out of the reach of that boy. If he is not hung," said Tom, with a wise shake of his head, "I miss my guess. Why, he is the terror of the neighborhood. He invents cruel things to practise on animals. Some time ago he cut a little baby pup's throat with a penknife, and sewed it up with cotton and a great big needle, while he never winced. The little pup died in great agony. And the boy's mother said, 'The dear child will certainly be a doctor, he has such skill.' Old Tabby, who lives next door, when she heard this speech of his mother's, said, 'He may be, and is, a devil, but he never ought to be a doctor.' And as we all believed in this wise saying, we gave old Tabby three cheers."

Tom tried to comfort me, telling such heartrending stories of the abuse of poor cats that my hair stood on end with horror. I then and there vowed hatred to all mankind. Even the peace of this dear home and the love of these dear people have not cured me of my distrust. I see an enemy on every hand.

Tom could not console me, and I was too wretched to confide my plans to him. I was suffering intense agony. My breasts were swollen like crab-apples. I could not bear the pain, and dragged myself to a puddle of water, hoping to cool the heat in them.

That night's suffering was the turning-point with me. I made up my mind I would take myself miles away from these cruel people, where every hand had been against me and mine.

I started slowly, and crawled through alleys and back yards, it seemed to me, for miles. The sound of a human voice, particularly that of a child, acted like a whip on me. I would run till my breath grew short, and I would sink down, feeling I must die, that I could never move again. Then at some sound I would start once more.

At last, worn out with fatigue, hunger, and fever (caused by my inflamed breasts), I reached a gate just as it opened to admit a man with groceries. I rushed in, spent and breathless, and hid myself in a dark corner. Here, thought I, will be a rest for one night.

As I crouched down in the dark corner, the man came out of the house, with the servant behind him, to close the gate. What an anxious moment for me! She returned to the house without seeing me, and I was safe.

After a brief rest, broken by the throbbing of my breast, I aroused myself, and, attracted by a bright light, I approached the window. The light came from the kitchen, where the half-curtain, open in the middle, gave me a glimpse of paradise.

This is the picture I looked upon with longing eyes: A large, old-fashioned kitchen, scrupulously clean, a table covered with a red cloth, a shade lamp standing in the centre, and a nice work-basket by its side, completed this homelike picture. The servant, a woman of middle age, nice, fresh, and pleasant looking, sat by the table, in a large rocking-chair, darning stockings. A more homelike scene never greeted the eye of a poor outcast. But the crowning object of all was a large black cat, spread out on a nice rug in front of the fire.

Presently she arose, walked about, swinging her tail, "monarch of all she surveyed," as I soon found she was.

How my heart beat as I thought, "Why is this? Why am I homeless, cast out to starve, while this cat has a beautiful home and is well fed and happy?"

Alas! even in the animal world is the vexed question, which disturbs human beings, of why one being, created by our "Heavenly Father," should be high in power, while others who are just as worthy are down under his feet. We ask, but who can answer?

Very soon, while I stood looking in, shivering with envy and my bodily pain, a door opened, and a lady came in. She was no longer young, but ladylike, and very kind and pleasant looking. She sat down and called, "Topsy, Topsy," in such a kind voice it made my heart ache. I looked with surprise, for Topsy took not the least notice of her. The lady laughed a very pleasant laugh, as she said, "What an odd creature you are," as she took Topsy in her arms, and smoothed her fur. Topsy did not seem to care for the affection lavished on her, never responding at all.

But just then another lady, somewhat younger than the other, came in. Topsy gave a great rush into her arms, and to my surprise, clasped her black paws around her neck, while the lady hugged and kissed her just like a child.

I could watch no longer. Envy, hatred, and malice, added to my swollen breasts, made me too wretched to live. I just dragged myself back to my dark corner and closed my eyes for a long time, oblivious of everything around me. At intervals I slept when the violent throbbing of my breasts would allow me; but when I could think, one idea had taken full possession of me, and that was a determination to get into this home.

"Surely," I said, "they have such kind hearts, they will not refuse help to such a miserable object as I am."

This comforted me a little; and as the neighborhood was a quiet one, and as I was worn out by the miles I had run and the pain of my bruises, I was able to sleep till morning.

The first thing I heard was a step approaching, and Bridget,