Miranda Eliot Swan

I PASS over several years—very sad ones to us all. The breaking up of our home, the death of dear Mrs. Rice, I cannot write of, though Time, the true friend of the sorrowful, has laid a healing balm on our hearts. Miss Eleanor and Miss Milly were both prostrated by their sorrows, and we were obliged to go into the country for a change of air.

How carelessly I looked upon the preparation for our flitting! When I mounted the piano, my favorite seat for many years, I little thought it was for the last time—that I should never hear my kind friends play on that dear old piano again, that I should never again arouse them in the morning by walking over the keys when they had left it open at night.

I could not understand their tears, when the furniture and piano were carried away, that they were parting forever with things associated with their old home and those who had made their happiness, now gone forever. Yet when I saw only our trunks, and looked at their sad faces, I did wish I could be something better than a cat and be able to help them.

I tried to amuse them, acting over all the little tricks they had taught me, and was a very happy creature when Miss Milly smoothed my fur, saying, "Oh, Daisy, what should we do without you!" Then I realized I was a comfort to them.

They had bought me a large brown straw basket with a cover, and very strong handles, and when I walked into it, taking possession, I felt like a prince of the blood. I little thought how many miles I should travel in that basket! It was open in places to give me air, and I could lie down and turn around comfortably in it. When travelling, my mistress would keep her finger between the cover and the basket, and with my eyes fixed on her face I felt safe. She said she felt under a spell, to watch me, and my stony stare reminded her of the Stranger Guest, in the "Ancient Mariner."

We remained only one month in our first boarding-place, for it was not satisfactory. The cats I could not associate with, for they were rough tramps, no one owning them, and they had no care. I was very sorry for them, knowing how care and kindness could transform them.

They really hated me, and it made me very unhappy, my chief offence being my collar and padlock. They might have overlooked my collar, but the padlock was adding insult to injury. Their eyes would grow green with envy that one of their race should be above them. They looked upon my collar and padlock just as women look at each other's diamonds. Animals feel envy the same as human beings; only they can tear and rend each other, while their so-called superiors would like to do the same were it not for the power of the law.

Cats and dogs fight, and that is the end of it; but with human beings it is never forgotten, and makes them bad-tempered and tyrannical.

I was very sorry for these poor cats, though I could not understand such mean feelings. I was always pleased when I saw cats or dogs with pretty collars on and bows of ribbon. One lovely white cat I knew used to wear blue ribbons, and I always told her how nice she looked, till I found how vain she was; then I said no more about her good looks, for I do hate vain people. I would gladly have given my collar and padlock, though I loved it dearly, if it would have helped them.

It is a problem beyond one poor cat's solution to know just how to help people to understand our race; but I do hope this little story will help a little. The life of one petted cat perhaps may make others as happy as I have been.

We changed our rooms quite often on our return to Boston; many of them were so cheerless I will not speak of them. Whatever our discomforts were, I was always cared for; but I did wish I could provide a palace and servants for my dear friends. I remember the stories Miss Eleanor used to tell the boys, and I wished I could be Cinderella, with a fairy godmother to give me means to help others. I fear I should have killed the mice before they were changed into horses. And when the boys would say to their aunties, "Why don't you have horses and carriages?" I also asked the same question.

I am an old cat now, and I know, and do not ask such questions, for I understand the world better, that it is not to those who deserve the most that luxuries are given. Why, we will never know.

We lived in one house where we were very uncomfortable. Our room, to be sure, always looked bright and nice, but it was because we had such good taste in covering up our defects and making poor things look nice.

The lady who owned the house was a philanthropist. It is a long name for me to master, but I thought it over in my waking hours, just as my mistress pronounced it, and I can think it quite correctly, better than I can understand why she was so called. She was utterly neglectful of the two gentlewomen in her house, who were far ahead of her in education and culture, if not her equals in money.

I pondered the name, and its meaning, more and more. I will not say it made me tired, for that is slang; but it did make me sleepy, and I would drop into a good cat-nap right in the midst of defining "philanthropist."

She had a cat named "Oliver Twist." One must have some companionship of his own kind. So Miss Milly said, "Perhaps he will be a playmate for Daisy."

"Perhaps," Miss Eleanor said, "he also may be a philanthropist."

We soon found, however, he was nothing of the kind. He proved himself a most depraved cat. Under the cloak of virtue he concealed a very coarse nature. He never came up to our room without trying to provoke a fight. His black, beady eyes and sleek Maltese coat always irritated me. I had a cattish desire to fight him and let him know his place. For my mistress's sake I tried to subdue this feeling, remembering he was my guest, and I must be polite even at the expense of comfort.

It was all thrown away on him; it was "casting pearls before swine." When I went out into the yard, as I did every day for an outing, he would hunt me about, as if I had no right to be there. Not one scrap of food did I ever get down there, though he was always ready to have a feast when he came to us.

One day things reached a climax. I had tried to amuse him; he had taken my favorite chair, and washed himself all over in it, leaving so many hairs on it I thought I should go wild, knowing how Miss Milly would have to clean it. I gave him half my milk, and though he stood with one leg in the saucer to keep me from eating any, I still kept my temper. I would not make a fuss. But when, after finishing my milk and licking his chops right in my face, he flew at me and knocked me down, then I threw all politeness to the dogs, and unsheathing my claws, I closed with him, rolling over and over till he yelled well. Like all bullies, he was a coward.

My mistress said, "Daisy, I am ashamed of you." Miss Eleanor took "Oliver Twist," and put him out, with scant ceremony, saying, "I wonder what Charles Dickens would say to hear a cat like that called 'Oliver Twist.'"

"Poor cat! You know he is disciplined by a philanthropist." And Miss Milly laughed at the absurd thought.

I laughed also, as I crept into a corner, when I thought how nicely I had "Oliver Twisted" him. I slept the sleep of the victorious. I did not see very much of him after this, for we went early into the country for the summer.

There were very nice people where we boarded. One dear little boy was very fond of me. He hugged me so hard I avoided him. My mistress told his mother that she did not think children should be allowed cats and dogs for playthings. Miss Eleanor talked quite nicely to little Alec, and I think when he remembers her stories of children who were good to animals, that it will make him careful, for he was a nice little fellow, and he may be a good friend to poor ill-treated dogs and cats.

I enjoyed that summer very much. The cats were kind and friendly, and the beautiful trees on the grounds gave me a nice chance to run up and hide from my mistress. She was anxious about me all the time, fearing to lose sight of me. She used to pet all the cats that were good to me, and they all said, if they had a friend like her, how good and happy they would be. Some of them were very wild and rude, hunted as they had been by bad children, and scat from the door when, half starved and cold, they had sought shelter and friends. No wonder they were not nice company for well-bred cats. I did pity them and never turned away when they came near me.

At the end of the grounds was a big bed of catmint. It was like the "corner grocery store" for the cats. Crowds of them would assemble there to talk over their affairs. And when, excited by the power of the catmint, they would get into a row, though there were no pistols or murders, such as characterize human fights, there were black eyes, scratched faces, and hate and rage in plenty.

I kept out of it all, though I cannot deny that my heart beat faster. I had to sheathe my claws till they hurt me; but I thought of my position, for a well-brought-up cat can understand the meaning of "noblesse oblige." I suppose I felt just as men do (and women too, as to that) when they bet on the fighting parties. And I had my favorites as well as they, and knew who I hoped would win.

I did love that catmint bed, and never for one moment doubt that in the boundless green fields of Paradise we shall have acres of catmint where we can roll to our hearts' content. I did try to encourage the poor neglected ones with this prospect, but they did not believe me. They said I was a "cat fanatic," "a fool," "a revivalist." They said, "If we are to be so cared for, then why don't your 'heavenly father' that you think so much of do something for us now?" And they all talked at once and were so excited, they hissed and yelled so loud, that my nerves were all of a quiver; but I stood my ground, though they pressed on me very hard, and breathed so much catmint over me I was glad when my mistress, hearing the row, came and took me away.

It was many days before I visited that catmint bed again, for it rained very hard. Miss Eleanor remarked that Daisy was rather quiet; she feared he was sick. I could have told her my heart was sick, trying to solve the problem, how I could reform my race, how make people believe them the intelligent beings they are.

After this I had to bear jeers and scoffs; but I would not give up my principles nor yet my catmint bed. Many were the scratches Miss Eleanor got, pulling me out from under the bushes, for the smell magnetized me. She always got me by the tail or leg, she cared not which, so that she carried me home and saved Miss Milly anxiety.

The people were very nice to me. One quiet young man, an artist, was very fond of me, and said I would make a fine subject for a picture. I used to flourish my tail and hold my head on one side just like a fool, I suppose; but then I know I am a beauty. I hear it every day, and how can I help being vain?

Before returning to Boston we paid a short visit to one of our friends. She had a delightful home, and the children were very much pleased to have me visit them.

As I have quite an adventure to relate, where I did not distinguish myself, I will take another chapter, and give it in full, without extenuating my faults, leaving them to be judged by my readers.