Miranda Eliot Swan

I SUPPOSE I am growing old and forgetful, for memory brings things to me upside down, as I have heard old people say. All I can do about it is to tell the little incidents relating to the past as they come back to me.

For the last few days Thanksgiving has been in my mind more or less all the time, and I think you will be interested if I tell you about one that I enjoyed very much.

My mistress took me in her arms one day, saying, "Daisy, you are going to have a real Thanksgiving."

I opened my eyes wide (I know that I have very handsome eyes, and love to show them off, just as boys and girls do); for I did not know what a thanksgiving meant.

"Yes," she said, "I have just received a note from our friend, Miss W. You know her." (I winked in answer, for I did admire her.) "Every year she sends us a turkey, with a basket of goodies all cooked, ready to eat. This note tells me that she will send the basket Thursday morning. Now you do not understand what 'Thanksgiving' means, and I will explain it to you."

I settled myself comfortably on her lap; she always put on a clean white apron to keep the hairs from my coat off of her dress. I resented this, for I could not see, for the life of me, why cats' hair was not quite as good as camels' hair that her dress was made of. And I just crawled under her apron one day when she was reading, and I liked the feeling of the soft wool better than I did the cambric apron, it was so woolly and warm.

I had just snoozed off, dreaming that I was asleep between the camel's humps she had told me of, when all at once she dropped her book, saying, "Oh, Daisy, just look at my dress!" And sure enough, it was covered all over with gray hair, for I was shedding my fur fast.

I was really ashamed of myself, and said: "I am just like Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. So I will just go under the bed, the best place for a 'Hyde,' and repent of my wickedness. I do not know why I do these things, but my mistress loves me all the same."

So this afternoon I sat on her nice apron, listening to her story of Thanksgiving like a well-behaved cat.

This is what she told me: That on the last Thursday of November it usually occurred. The Governor of the State made a proclamation, which was read in all the churches and published in the papers. The day was set apart for giving thanks for all the blessings God had bestowed on us during the year.

Of course I had to listen to all this, but I was awful anxious for her to get to that basket. But for once she was very tiresome, and now I am glad she was, for I have an idea of Thanksgiving I shall never forget.

Once, she said, people invited all their family, no matter how many or how poor they were, to dine. They always attended church, and then returned to a bountiful dinner of turkey, chickens, plum puddings of mammoth size, and pies of every variety. All the poor of the family would eat all they could for the present, and then fill in for the future.

The children, who never get too much, had nuts and candy in plenty, and the day was altogether lovely to them all, more particularly to those who gave than to those who received.

Now, she said, things were changed. No one invited or thought of the poor of the family, and no one went to church but the poor relations who had nowhere else to go.

Perhaps the minister preached from the text, "In my Father's house are many mansions;" that is, if he had an idea of the fitness of things,—that it would give the poor homeless ones a sure hope of the future, where perhaps those who have such nice homes here would not be as well off as the poor would be; and this Christian thought would help them bear their slights with patience.

Meanwhile the rich do not go to church. They give dinner parties to those who have money and a higher rank in society; and if one thought is given to their own flesh and blood who are poor, they wish that all the old grandfathers and grandmothers, uncles and aunts and cousins were old turkeys and chickens; then their necks would be wrung, and they would be rid of them forever, and would never be called upon to remember kindness rendered to them in the past by these same old relatives.

The sons of the family celebrate the day by a grand carousal, which leaves its mark on them for many days.

"But," she said, "we have no such days to remember, we are very quiet and sad, but very thankful for all our blessings; and you are one of the greatest. I have told you all this because I know you understand it, and I love to talk to you." (Oh my! how my heart did swell with pride when she said that.) "I want you to have a lovely time this year—a real Thanksgiving."

Of course I was all ready for it. I did not sleep much that night, and was early at the window to see the arrival of that basket. Long before it arrived I had thought long and seriously of all my mistress had told me.

I was perfectly wild when that basket came and they unfolded the turkey. I could have hugged him at once, he did smell so good, but I never moved from the hassock where my mistress placed me.

I never saw such a lot of nice dishes and beautiful things on them. Even the dessert had not been forgotten. There was such a big bunch of celery. I thought it was a tree, and that I could run up in it.

At last, after the inward cravings after that fowl had torn me almost to pieces, and my desire to be polite and good had been almost upset by the inclination to rush in and devour right and left, they carved up the turkey, and I had so many tidbits I did not know which to eat first, the head or the tail, for I had both of them.

I did do justice to that dinner, and, like a child, as I did not know when to leave off, they had to take it from me. I then laid down and slept so sound that I had the nightmare. I thought I was beset by poor relations: that an aunt was sitting on my head, an uncle on my tail, and cousins on my stomach, and they pressed me so hard that I yelled out loudly.

Miss Eleanor came to me, saying, "What is the matter?" Of course I could not tell her, but I did not want to have such visitors again. I would rather give them my dinner.

We had a very light supper, and my mistress promised me the sequel to my Thanksgiving the next day. Indeed, the sequel beat the beginning, and I thought how nice it would be always to live on sequels.

They took a big platter, and stood it on a newspaper on the floor. In it was the carcass of the turkey and all the giblets. Miss Milly said I should, for once, have a real low-minded junket.

And I did. It was like a bone-yard, with the remains all around me. I felt so generous that I would willingly have said "come" to all the poor relations in the world. They would be welcome to all the bones I had picked and all of the quack. It was lovely, but I was greased from head to foot. When tired, I seated myself on the bones, in the midst of the carcass, and my fur was glued together in places.

The work of cleaning me was something fearful. I was as patient as I could be, though I could not help jerking away a few times. Miss Milly said, "You do not look like my lovely Daisy," and it was many days before I looked like myself again.

That evening my mistress let me look at the photograph of our nice young friend. I thought it lovely and a very good likeness. I gave a little purr at it, but I suppose a gobble or a crow would have been more appropriate.

She is a very dear friend to my mistress, and I am very fond of her. When she comes in, I always keep awake to hear her talk. She is very fascinating. I do not think she cares very much for cats. I suppose it is because she does not know much about them. One thing I do know: she would be kind to them, for when I am left alone with her, she smiles at me and says, "Daisy, you are a nice cat," just the same as if my mistress were here.

Some people make so much of me before my mistress, but behind her back say, "Scat, you old cat!" There is no need for them to speak. I know them, and would not go near them on any account. Then I do wish I could speak and warn my mistress of their falseness.

One of these people called one day and brought her great boy with her. He could hardly keep his hands off of me. When my mistress took his mother into the next room, to show her some work, he lingered behind, thinking, "Now is my opportunity."

He pulled my ear and yelled "Sassage meat" in it. Whatever he meant by his "sassage meat" I did not know, but I saw my opportunity and gave him a good dig with my claws and made his cheek bleed. He bellowed well, like a real calf, and his mother looked daggers at me, for I boldly stood my ground. I would not go to my retreat under the bed, for I was not to blame.

Miss Milly was very sorry, and helped his mother wash his cheek and got court-plaster for her. After he had been coaxed and comforted, he poured forth his wrongs, saying that he was sitting quietly, when I rushed upon him and without the least provocation clawed his face.

Miss Eleanor came forward then, saying, "You are mistaken. I was in the alcove, and saw you pull Daisy's ear and yell 'sassage meat' in it, and he scratched you in self-defence." The mother was very indignant. She said, "I have always told Harold never to touch such spiteful creatures as cats." No one answered her, and she soon left with her pretty boy, and she never came again.

Miss Eleanor said she thought, as Harold was to be a lawyer,—so his mother had told her,—he would never let truth stand in his way in gaining a case.

My ear did burn from the sharp nails he had pinched it with, and I was not sorry that I defended myself, and I made up my mind that when children came to the house, particularly if they were with their parents, I would keep out of their way.

Miss Milly came to the same conclusion. She said: "Daisy shall not be subjected to a trial of this kind again; it spoils his temper and makes him rude, and then he is unhappy about it."

And I was. I had reason to remember it, for my ear was swollen, and they were obliged to put salve on it to make it heal.

Some time after this we went into the country for a short time. While there I made the acquaintance of a very intelligent cat. His name was Pedro. He was very hard to get acquainted with at first, and I was just wild to know him, for he was very handsome and dignified.

I thought of every reason why he was so cool to me. At last I said to myself: "It is my collar and padlock. He thinks I am proud." So I worked and worked till I got the padlock up on my back, and then I licked down my fur to cover my collar. Then I walked out, and after a few turns in the garden I saw Pedro on the grounds. He belonged to a very wealthy man, and the house and grounds were quite lovely.

I walked to meet him very humbly. When I said, "Good morning, Pedro," he looked me all over, and instead of answering me, he said with a scoff, "Oh, you are in disgrace, are you?"

"No indeed," I answered; "what makes you think so?"

"Because you are not in full dress, and I miss that trinket you are so proud of."

This did provoke me, and I said, "The 'trinket,' as you call my nice padlock, is on my back. I supposed it was that that made you so against me. All the cats are envious and jealous of that."

"Envious! jealous!" he hissed. "I guess I am not a mean fellow enough to be jealous of a trumpery bit of finery on a stuck-up cat."

I had to swallow to keep down my temper. As I did want his friendship, I passed over his insolence in silence.

As I turned to go home I said: "I cannot understand why you dislike me; I have been anxious to be friends with you, and have wondered if my collar and padlock had made you think I put on airs. I tried to hide this gift of my dear mistress, though it seemed treachery to her, thinking perhaps you would then be pleased with me. Now, of course, I shall never try for your friendship again."

He had been silent, but he moved about uneasily. Then he winked very fast, and at last said: "Is that really so? Did you want to be friends with me? Why, I thought of all the blue-bloodedest, old-familiest, aristocratical creeters, you were the biggest. I thought you were a cat duke or a count, and them's the creeters I despise, for I am a real democrat."

"So am I," I joyfully said, too much delighted to notice Pedro's bad grammar. "There is my paw on it, and I do hope we shall be good friends. We ought to be fast friends. As for the dukes and counts, I spell them without capitals. That is how I value them. The only likeness they have to us is that we have whiskers, with this difference: the barber makes theirs, while God made ours."

We laughed and had a jolly time over the dukes and the counts; the rest of the rabble we did not give even a small-lettered title to.

After this we met every day, and our friendship increased till Pedro confided his history to me. If ever a cat had cause to mistrust the whole world, he had, and my heart ached with pity.

It was one very pleasant morning when we had met and walked down and seated ourselves on a nice grassy mound at the end of the garden, that Pedro said, "If you would like to hear my story, I will tell it to you this morning."

Of course I expressed my pleasure, and, making myself comfortable, I prepared to give my best interest to the story.

"My mother was born in New York. While quite a small kitten she was given a nice home with people who believe that no home is complete without the family cat. She was a very large cat, striped like a tiger, with a beautiful long tail. She was amiable and affectionate.

"The people were very kind to her, and she was quite happy. They were not very wealthy, but they had great expectations. An old uncle, a very Croesus, owned the estate they lived on, and a magnificent one adjoining, where he lived with a widowed sister. He was a childless widower, and made no secret of his intentions in regard to them.

"Of course they were not sure of his millions. He had given them a life interest, but should the children offend him, he would wash his hands of them at once. He was a rough, irascible, outspoken old man, despising shams, and a falsehood he would never forgive. He was a tender-hearted friend to animals, but his special favorites were cats.

"He was very fond of my mother, and she returned his affection. Tige, as she was called from her beautiful stripes, would run to meet him when he came to the house, walking very proudly by his side. He always noticed her kittens, always taking one for his own, while he would see that the rest were disposed of in a humane manner.

"When I was born, he made me his favorite. There were three besides myself, and we were called a very handsome family. My little brothers and sister were to be kept. Some friends of the family, who were cat lovers, were to have them, while I was to be the pet of my mother's old friend.

"My mother enjoyed us, for she was allowed to nurse us all till we were old enough to be weaned. Three of them were striped like my mother. I alone was Maltese. Probably I favored my father; never having seen him, I cannot tell.

"It was the first of July, and two of the boys belonging to the house were at home on a vacation. They were not bad boys, but were full of life. Boys will be boys, you know. They had been kind to my mother, though rather rough, and she kept her kittens out of their reach.

"We all found them changed for the worse, and I was sorry they had a long vacation. They were never still. They drove the pony in a reckless manner, and gave the poor dogs no rest.

"Tige, my mother, had always been a favorite; now, though they seemed fond of her, they were teaching her tricks all the time, making her jump over strings and hoops when she was sleepy and did not want to be troubled. And then they would take up the kittens by the tails, to hear them squeal, saying, when their mother remonstrated, that it did not hurt them.

"But I can tell you it did hurt. Imagine being taken up by the feet, the blood rushing to the head, and then put down with a jerk, while everything would look dark around, as the blood, in flowing back, seemed to settle around the eyes. It was fearful suffering, and we did squeal well. They were never caught by the uncle in such pranks, you may be sure; they were too sly.

"My mother dreaded them and would hide us the best she could under her fur. She had no peace, for her anxiety made her afraid to leave us alone long enough to get her dinner. I know it all now, but then we were so young we did not care for anything except to cuddle up together and see which one could get the most milk out of our mother.

"The boys were to have two cousins to spend the Fourth of July with them. We could hear, from our nice basket home, all about the great preparations the boys were making to celebrate the day. All the young people living in the homes near were invited, and the uncle had spent no end of money in fireworks and Chinese lanterns and all the things boys love.

"He said, 'This is the one day of the year when children should be made happy, and they will be more likely to remember its meaning.'

"The two cousins who came were disagreeable-looking boys. All the animals on the place, from the horses and dogs down to my mother, instinctively distrusted them, for animals find out their enemies very quickly. They soon found they would have no peace while these boys were here, for the visitors were not afraid of the uncle.

"I cannot tell you the horror of the night before the Fourth of July. The boys were out till very late, and by five o'clock were again on their feet. The yelling, blowing of horns, and firing of crackers made us almost crazy. My mother would jump at every fresh noise, for, like all cats, she was of a very nervous temperament. I now believe she had a presentiment of coming events.

"We could not get one square meal. Just as we would get our lips on her breast, ready for a good mouthful, she would jump and jerk away from us; and as we had no teeth, we could not hold on; besides, the worry and fright prevented the milk from coming. My poor mother, how she suffered that night!"

Pedro paused, overcome by his feelings, while I ventured a word of sympathy.

"We had been removed from the house into one of the outbuildings, quite a good distance from where the fireworks were to be, close to the stable; and we enjoyed seeing the horses and pony come out to the great trough to drink. It was exactly opposite where we were, and was very cool, the drop by drop sounding very soothing, though we did not exactly like the water. Our removal had been the work of our kind friend, the uncle. He knew, however delightful the noise was to young America, that we did not enjoy it at all.

"All day they were around the grounds with their crackers and pistols, and the din and smell of powder made all the animals in the stable wretched; but my poor mother suffered more than all the others, with four refractory kittens to care for.

"The family had a great supper, and then, about eight o'clock, the fireworks began. They were a great success, and when nothing was left but crackers, the elder people went into the house, where the windows opening on the veranda gave them a fine view of the grounds.

"The old uncle had entered with boyish delight into all the fun, and was supposed by the boys to be in the house resting. There was a ripple of excitement as some of the boys left the fireworks to the younger ones, and stole away, as they thought, unnoticed.

"One of the cousins, a great big fellow of sixteen or seventeen, came, and taking the basket containing my mother and her four little kittens, carried it out of the shed, and put it on a rock by the side of the pump. Next, he took some straw and stuffed it in all around the sides of the basket. From behind a hedge one of the boys got a can and handed it to him, and from it he poured kerosene over the straw and all over the sides of the basket.

"I saw all this with wonder. When he took up the basket, I was hanging over the side, and fell out just before he put it down. He had not missed me, and my mother was probably so frightened and choked by the smell of the kerosene that she could not think. I was quite pleased with my liberty, though I did not know how much it would influence my fate.

"Before my mother could start up and try to remove her kittens a tramp of feet made her aware that her tormentors were approaching. She could have jumped and saved herself, but, like a true mother, she cowered down over her kittens.

"The boys were all in high glee, while the big fellow yelled out, 'Here we are, and we will show you a piece not on the bill.'

"Quick as thought he applied a match to the basket in front, while another great fellow held a burning paper to the straw at the back of the basket, and all fell back as a loud report was heard, and a volume of flames sprang up around the basket."

Poor Pedro paused, overcome for a moment, while I almost gasped for breath, soon he continued in a trembling voice:—

"One shrill scream from my mother, and the last sight I had of her was in the midst of the flames, her fur all ablaze, her eyes starting from her head, and magnified to three times her size, while three little flames around her repeated the dreadful picture in her three kittens.

"A fearful oath rent the air, and powerful hands cleared a passage and seized the basket and plunged it into the trough that chanced to be filled to the brim with water, and held it there till the flames died out, and the last sobbing breath was still forever.

"The flames had enveloped his arms, his sleeves were burned to flinders, and his hands were a fearful sight. But to me his face looked like the face of an angel, and I crawled up on his boot, with one little mew. He heard it, and in spite of his maimed hands took me up and dropped me into the pocket of his loose coat, where I knew nothing more, for my little brain was dazed at the fearful sight I had been witness to.

"He was a profane man, and they said the air was blue with the language he used. Doctor L., his great friend and physician, chanced to be near. He said, 'My dear friend, you must not get so excited; you will have apoplexy. You will never be able to use your hands again if they are not attended to at once.'

"In his anxiety to end my mother's sufferings, he had held the basket down with both hands, never thinking of his burned hands or the pain.

"'No matter,' he answered, as he glared around on all the people assembled; 'I do not need to write, to demolish all your hopes.' And he looked at the boys with hatred. 'I have but to serve a few papers as you have these poor creatures, and the money you have looked upon as your own goes to charity.—'Not one cent,' he said, while the veins in his forehead swelled up like cords, with the anguish he was suffering, 'shall ever go to one of you, for you were all in the secret, though all may not yet have reached the fearful state of cruelty of your ringleader. Call John,' he said, and when his faithful servant came, he gave him his orders, then said, 'Now, Doctor, get your things ready; you can torture me as soon as John returns.'

"An easy-chair, table, and the lotions and bandages ordered by Doctor L. were brought out, as the patient refused to move from the spot till his work was completed.

"Soon John appeared with a small iron box in his arms, taken from the safe. His master's eyes brightened when he saw him, for he was suffering great pain.

"'Now, John, take my keys from my pocket and open that box. Jane,' he said, addressing his sister, who stood by his side, anxiety for him expressed in her face, 'take from that box the package marked "My last will and testament." Now, John, clear a space, then burn every inch of that paper in the presence of these murderers and their abettors; for it is a cruel murder, and Tige shall be avenged.'

"It was done, and no one dared interfere, though some of them knew they were seeing the hopes of years fade away and perish in that heap of ashes.

"'Now,' he said to the doctor, 'dress my burns. I am satisfied.' Just then I mewed, and he exclaimed, 'Poor little orphan! Take him out of my pocket, Jane; he shall have such tender care that this dreadful scene may be forgotten.'

"The sister took me out of his pocket very tenderly, and I clung to her, while she stood by her brother and tried to help him bear the suffering caused by the dressing of his wounds. The pain was fearful, but he said it was a pleasure to bear it, knowing that he had spared poor Tige and her kittens by ending their suffering at once.

"When the basket was taken out, my poor mother was found, her fur singed off, while one side of her was completely roasted. My little brothers and sister were just singed, for their mother had tried to cover them with her body. The water had ended their lives at once. I did not see them, but I heard the people describe the horrible sight.

"By his master's orders John carried them home and buried them, after putting them in a nice box on the grounds. I will show you their grave some day before you leave.

"The uncle never forgave them. He allowed his nephew and his wife the use of the house and an annuity for life; but not one cent of his money could be used for the children.

"Their own means being small, they were obliged to give up the thought of a profession for their sons and put them into business. The uncle said very justly that no one ought to be a doctor who had no love in his heart for the dumb creatures so dependent on him for their welfare.

"He lived but two years after this, and he made me his special care. Nothing was too good for me, and I loved him with all my heart, and I know I was a great comfort to him. When I would lick the scars on his hands, I have seen the tears in his eyes, and he would smooth my fur, and say, 'Poor Tige! poor Tige!'

"He never quite recovered the use of his left hand, but he never complained; and when I was big enough I would walk out with him every day, for I distrusted every one, and made very few friends. He named me Pedro for a friend of his, a Spanish gentleman from whom he inherited some of his wealth.

"At his death he gave me to his sister, and left a large sum to be used for my benefit. He had given her a fine property and the estate where we now live. After her death it is to be used for charity and a home for animals.

"She has been very kind to me. The friends whom she has taken to live here and keep the home for her are very nice, and they understand just how I am situated. They are fond of animals, and make a great deal of me; but I can never care for people again. My mistress is not very strong, probably will not live much longer, and I hope when she dies I shall soon follow her. The horrible scene of my mother's death has taken all the pleasure of life from me. Do you wonder I do not make new friends or trust people?"

I assured him of my sympathy, saying that I hoped there were no such wicked people about now.

"Don't think that," he said; "there are hundreds of just such wicked, cruel acts committed all the time. Something should be done to stop the work now, and save the children from being murderers and criminals."

I was very unhappy over Pedro's story. I did wish my mistress could hear this sad tale, for I know that she would try to help the poor abused creatures.

I had quite an ill turn from worry of mind over this sad story, and from the internal injury that I received from the encounter with that bulldog.

My mistress was quite anxious about me. She gave me catmint tea and made me a lovely little blanket, and this with a thick shawl folded under it was placed on the lounge for my bed. I was very comfortable, and I hope a grateful cat, when I contrasted my lot with others. I did not feel (even to the dog that attacked me) any bitterness, for had he been taught better by his master, he would not have treated me like an enemy.

How can we expect a life-long prejudice, such as dogs and cats have for each other, to be uprooted, unless they are taught better by their owners and by the good examples that ought to be set before them? How can human beings boast of being better than animals?

Think of the heathen cannibals, eating human flesh. To them the fat little baby is just like a chicken. Then the Indians—did a cat ever worry a rat worse than they tortured the white men? When you think of this, can you conscientiously say we are worse, or even as bad as human beings?

There is money, and eloquence, and sympathy for the heathen; but the poor animals are left to learn without teachers what ought to be taught them, to make them the faithful servants and intelligent companions of man.

I trust the day will come when these humble friends will be as much thought of in the family as the children; there is no doubt they will fully repay all kindness done them.