• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Copyright
 Dedication
 Table of Contents
 Keturah, the Cat
 Sam, the Cockerel
 Toby, the Hawk
 Milly, the Pony, and Carlo, the...
 Cora, the Spaniel
 Jack, the Drake
 Hector, the Greyhound
 Bob, the Cosset
 Robin Redbreast
 Tom
 Back Cover
 Spine






Title: History of my pets
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00002005/00001
 Material Information
Title: History of my pets
Physical Description: 109 p., <6> leaves of plates : ill. ; 17 cm.
Language: English
Creator: Greenwood, Grace, 1823-1904
Wilcox, John W ( Electrotyper )
Baker, William Jay ( Engraver )
Billings, Hammatt, 1818-1874 ( Illustrator )
Ticknor, Reed, and Fields ( Publisher )
Metcalf and Company
Publisher: Ticknor, Reed, and Fields
Place of Publication: Boston
Manufacturer: Stereotyped and printed by Metcalf and Company
Publication Date: 1851
 Subjects
Subject: Pets -- Anecdotes -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Animals -- Anecdotes -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children and death -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1851   ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1851
Genre: Pictorial cloth bindings (Binding)   ( rbbin )
novel   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
United States -- Massachusetts -- Cambridge
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: By Grace Greenwood <pseud.>
General Note: "With engravings from designs by Billings."
General Note: Ill. engraved by W.J. Baker.
General Note: "Cuts electrotyped by J.W. Wilcox." - t.p. verso.
Funding: Brittle Books Program
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00002005
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 002230827
oclc - 03987525
notis - ALH1192
lccn - 07015870
 Related Items
Other version: Alternate version (PALMM)
PALMM Version

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front page 1
        Front page 2
        Front page 3
        Front page 4
        Front page 5
    Frontispiece
        Front page 6
    Title Page
        Page i
    Copyright
        Page ii
    Dedication
        Page iii
        Page iv
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Keturah, the Cat
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17a
    Sam, the Cockerel
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 22a
    Toby, the Hawk
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
    Milly, the Pony, and Carlo, the Dog
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
    Cora, the Spaniel
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
    Jack, the Drake
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67a
    Hector, the Greyhound
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
    Bob, the Cosset
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
    Robin Redbreast
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
    Tom
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
    Back Cover
        Page 110
    Spine
        Page 111
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HISTORY OF MY PETS.





BY





GRACE GREENWOOD.


WITH ENGRAVINOS FROM DESIG#5 BY BILLING.







BOSTON: *
STICENOR, REED, AND FIELDS.

MDCCw LI. = i
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Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1880, by
SARA J CLARKE,

in the Clerk's Office of the District lourt of the District of Massachusetts.
























CAMBRIDGB:
STRRBOTYPSD AP 4 PRINTED BT
METCALP AND COMPANY,
PRINTERS TO THB UNIVERSITY.


Cuts electrotyped by J. W. Wilcox, 152 Washington Street.















LETTER OF DEDICATION,

TO MARCEL, FRED, FANNY, AND FRANK BAILEY,
OF WASHINGTON, D. C.

DEAR CHILDREN :-
Do you remember that, one evening last
summer, while I was with you in Washington,
I told you some stories of the odd sort of pets
I had when I was a child? And do you re-
member that our friend, Senator C--, who
was a good deal amused by them, advised me
to write them out, and so make a little book
for the holidays? I laughed at the idea at
first, but finally promised to do so, and here is
the book, to prove me a woman of my word.
I was the more desirous of writing this little
volume for you, as a sort of remembrance






DEDICATION.


the happy days I spent in your happy home,
at Washington, -as something that might, in
after years, recall to you our morning frolics
on the piazza and in the garden, our evening
story-telling and strictly private theatricals,
and the still merrier times which came after,-
the sea-shore sports, the fishing and bathing,
and long rambles over the rocks and through
the woods. I don't know but I flattered my-
self too much, but I did believe that you
heartily liked your playmate and friend. Yet,
if so, perhaps for the reason that a funny little
nephew of mine gave for his liking, when he
said that he loved his Aunt Grace best of all
his aunts, "because she was so foolish."
I have been thinking that you may wish to
know something of my life as a child, more
than you can get from the stories.
The first years of my childhood were spent
with my parents, and a large family of broth-
ers and sisters. Our home was on a farm, in
one of the interior counties of the State of
New York. We did not reside in any city


iv





DEDICATION.


until I was in my teens, which was well for
me, as I was never very strong, and needed the
healthful air, and all the sports and freedom of
the country. I have not grown up into a fine
lady, or a great scholar; but I have, as you
know, good health and good spirits, which I
think come from the wild way I lived as a
child. I was then, it is true, more given to
romping than reading, and always thought
more of a new pet than a new dress. Of pets
I had many more than I have told about in
this book; but you might weary of the sport
should I show up the whole menagerie. Yet
if you and the other children who may read
these stories, whose only merit is that they are
true, are pleased with my first effort in this
line, I shall be so happy and feel so much flat-
tered, that I may do myself the honor of writ-
ing another book for such kind and indulgent
readers.
I am hoping to see you soon, almost as
soon as this book may reach you. I have not
been quite content on the sea-shore since you






DEDICATION.


left, from the feeling that something brighter
and pleasanter than the sparkling waves and
the blue skies, and the beautiful autumn woods,
had gone from me. I have missed you, dear
children, even in my busy and happy life. I
have missed the sight of Marcel and Fred,
leaping among the rocks in their bold play,
in perfect agreement with each other,- true
brothers in heart as well as in name. I have
missed the sound of Fanny's merry laugh and
the tossing of her bright curls; and I have
sadly missed dear little Frank, who crepe so
near to me with his sweet ways and queer say-
ings, that my heart ached all night long after
I parted from him. Ah, it seems to me that
I can see you all, standing on the steps, to greet
me as I come! You may make as much noise
as you please in your welcoming, and be
sure it will be very agreeable music to your
friend,
GRACE.
LYNN, MASs., October, 1850.


vi













CONTENTS.





PAGB
KETURAH, THE CAT 1

SAM, THE COCKEREL 17

TOBY, THE HAWK 23

MILLY, THE PONY, AND CARLO, THE DOG 34

CORA, THE SPANIEL 49

JACK, THE DRAKE 58

HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND 67

BOB, THE COSSET 79

ROBIN REDBREAST 86

TOM 98


















































































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I











HISTORY OF MY PETS.


KETURAH, THE CAT.

THE first pet, in whose history you
would take any interest, came into my
possession when I was about nine years
old. I remember the day as plainly
as I remember yesterday. I was going
home from school, very sad and out of hu-
mor with myself, for I had been marked
deficient in Geography, and had gone
down to the very foot in the spelling-
class. On the way I was obliged to pass
a little old log-house, which stood near
the road, and which I generally ran by
in a great hurry, as the woman who lived
there had the name of being a scold and




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


a sort of a witch. She certainly was a
stout, ugly woman, who drank a great
deal of cider, and sometimes beat her hus-
band, which was very cruel, as he was
a mild, little man, and took good care of
the baby while she went to mill. But
that day I trudged along carelessly and
slowly, for I was too unhappy to be afraid,
even of that dreadful woman. Yet I
started, and felt my heart beat fast, when
she called out to me. "Stop, little girl!"
she said; "don't you want this 'ere
young cat ?" and held out a beautiful
white kitten. I ran at once and caught
it from her hands, thanking her as well
as I could, and started for home, care-
fully covering pussy's head with my pina-
fore, lest she should see where I took her,
and so know the way back. She was
rather uneasy, and scratched ny arms a
good deal; but I did not id that, I
was so entirely happy in myiew pet.
When I reached home, and my mother
looked more annoyed than pleased with


2





KETURAH, THE CAT.


Sthe little stranger, and my father and
brothers would take no particular notice S
of her, I thought they must be very hard-
hearted indeed, not to be moved by her
beauty and innocence. My brother Wil-
liam, however, who was very obliging, and
quite a mechanic, made a nice little house,
or cat-cote," as he called it, in the back
yard, and put in it some clean straw for
her to lie on. I then gave her a plentiful
supper of new milk, and put her to bed
with my own hands. It was long before
I could sleep myself that night, for think-
ing of my pet. I remember I dreamed
that little angels came to watch over me,
as I had been told they would watch over
good children, but that, when they came
near to my bedside, they all turned into
white kittens and purred over my sleep.
The next morning, I asked my mother
for a name for pussy. She laughed and
gave me "( Keturah," saying that it was
a good Sunday name, but that I might
call her Kitty, for short.


3





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


Soon, I am happy to say, all the family
Grew to liking my pet very much, and I
became exceedingly fond and proud of
her. Every night when I returned from
school, I thought I could see an improve-
ment in her, till I came to consider her a
kitten of prodigious talent. I have seen
many cats in my day, and I still think that
Keturah was very bright. She could per-
form a great many wonderful exploits, -
such as playing hide and seek with me, all
through the house, and lying on her back
perfectly still, and pretending to be dead.
I made her a little cloak, cap, and bonnet,
and she would sit up straight, dressed in
them, on a little chair, for all the world
like some queer old woman. Once, after
I had been to the menagerie, I made her a
gay suit of clothes, and taught her to ride
my brother's little dog, as I had seen the
monkey ride the pony. She, in her turn,
was very fond of me, and would follow me
whenever she could.
It happened that when Kitty was about


4





KETURAH, THE CAT.


a year old, and quite a sizable Mt, I be-
came very much interested in some relig-
ious meetings which were held on every
Wednesday evening in the village church,
about half a mile from our house. I
really enjoyed them very much, for I
loved our minister, who was a good and
kind man, and I always felt a better and
happier child after hearing him preach,
even though I did not understand all that
he said. One evening it chanced that
there were none going from our house;
but my mother, who saw thatI was sadly
disappointed, gave me leave to go with a
neighboring family; who never missed a
meeting of the sort. But when I reached
Deacon Wilson's, I found that they were
already gone. Yet, as it was not quite
dark, I went on by myself, intending, if I
did not overtake them, to go directly to
their pew. I Thd not gone far before I
found Kitty at my heels. I. spoke as
crossly as- I"could to her, and sent her
back, looking after her till she was out


6




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


of sight. But just as I reached the
church, she came bounding over the fence,
and went trotting along before me. Now,
what could I do ? I felt that it would be
very wicked to take a cat to meeting, but
I feared that, if I left her outside, she
might be lost, or stolen, or killed. So I
took her up under my shawl, and went
softly into church. I dared not carry her
to Deacon Wilson's pew, which was just
before the pulpit, but sat down in the far-
ther end of the first slip, behind a pillar,
and with nobody near.
I was very sorry to find that it was
not our handsome, young minister that
preached, but an old man and a stranger.
His sermon may have been a fine one, for
the grown-up people, but it struck me as
rather dull. I had been a strawberrying
that afternoon, and was sadly tired, and
the cat in my lap purred so drowsily, that
I soon found my eyes closing, and my head
nodding wisely to every thing the minister
said. I tried every way to keep awake,





KETURAH, THE CAT.


but it was of no use. I finally fell asleep,
and slept as soundly as I ever slept in mIr
life.
When I awoke at last, I did not know
where I was. All was dark around me,
and there was the sound of rain without.
The meeting was over, the people had
all gone, without having seen me, and I
was alone in the old church at midnight!
As soon as I saw how it was, I set up
a great cry, and shrieked and called at
the top of my voice. But nobody heard
me, for the very good reason that no-
body lived anywhere near. I will do Kitty
the justice to say, that she showed no fear
at this trying time, but purred and rubbed
against me, as much as to say, -" Keep
a good heart, my little mistress !"
0, 't was a dreadful place in which to
be, in the dark night! There, where I
had heard such awful things preached
about, before our new niinister came, who
loved children too well to frighten them,
but who chose rather to talk about our


7





HISTORY OF MY PETS. *


good Father in Heaven, and the dear
Saviour, who took little children in his
arms and blessed them. I thought of
Him then, and when I had said my
prayers I felt braver, and had courage
enough to go and try the dodrs; but all
were locked fast. Then I sat down and
cried more bitterly than ever, but Kitty
purred cheerfully all the time.
At last I remembered that I had seen
one of the back-windows open that even-
ing, -perhaps I might get out through
that. So I groped my way up the broad
aisle, breathing hard with awe and fear.
As I was passing the pulpit, there came a
clap of thunder which jarred the whole
building, and the great red Bible, which
lay on the black velvet cushions of the
desk, fell right at my feet! I came near
falling myself, I was so dreadfully scared;
but I made my way to the window, which
I found was open by the rain beating
in. But though I stretched myself up
on tiptoe, I could not quite reach the





KETURAH, THE CAT. 9
sill. Then I went Jack by the pulpit
and got the big Bible, which I placed on
the floor edgeways against.the wall, and
by that help I clambered to the window.
I feared I was a great sinner to make
such use of~the Bible, and such a splen-
did book too, but I could not help it. I
put Kitty out first, and tlien swnng my-
self dowt. It rained a little, and was so
Sdark that I could see nothing but my
white kitten, who ran along before me,
and was both a lantern and a guide. I
hardly know how I got home, but there I
found myself at last. All was still, but I
.soon roused the wtlole house; for, when
the danger and trouble were over, I cried
the loudest with fright and cqld. My
mother had supposed that Deapon Wil-
son's family had kept me for the night, as
I often stayed with them, and had felt no
anxiety for me.
Dear mother -I remember how she
took off my dripping clothes, and made
me some warm drink, and put me snugly




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


to bed, and laughed and cried, as she
listened to my adventures, and kissed me
and comforted me till I fell asleep. Nor
was Kitty forgotten, but was fed and put
as cosily to bed as her poor mistress.
The next morning I awbke with a
dreadful headache, and when I tried to
rise I found.I could not stand. I do not
remember much more, except that my fa-
'ther, who was a physician, came and felt
my pulse, and said I had a high fever,
brought on by the fright and exposure of
the night previous. I was very sick in-
deed for three or four weeks, and all that
time my faithful Kitty stayed by the side
of my bed. She could be kept out of the
room but a few moments during the day,
and mewed piteously when they put her in
her little house at night. My friends said
that it was really very affecting to see her
love and devotion; but I knew very little
about it, as I was out of my head, or in a
stupor, most of the time. Yet I remem-
ber how the good creature frolicked about





KETURAH, THE CAT.


me the first time I was placed in an arm-
chair, and wheeled out into the dining-
room to take breakfast with the family;
and when, about a week later, my brother
Charles took nfe in his strong arms and
carried im out into the garden, how she
ran up and down the walks, half crazy
with delight, and danced along sideways,
and jumped out at us from behind cur-
rant-bushes, in a most cunning and start-
ling manner.
1 remember now how strange the gar-
den looked, how changed from what I
had last seen it. The roses were all, all
gone, and the China-asters and marigolds
were in bloom. When my brother passed
with me through the corn and beans, I
wondered he did not get lost, they were
grown so thick and high.
It was in the autumn after this sickness,
that one afternoon I was sitting under the
shade of a favorite apple-tree, readiu Mrs.
Sherwood's sweet story of Little Henry
and his Bearer." I remember how I cried
I


11





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


over it, grieving for poor Henry and his
dear teacher. Ah, t little thought how
soon my tears must flow for myself and my
Kitty! It was then that my sister came
to me, looking sadly troubled, to tell me
the news. Our brother William, who was
a little mischievous, had been amusing
himself by throwing Kitty from a high
window, and seeing her turn somersets
in the air, and alight on her feet un-
hurt. But at last, becoming tired or diz-
zy, she had fallen on her back and bro-
ken the spine, just below her shoulders.
I ran at once to where she lay on the turf,
moaning in her pain. I sat down beside
her, and cried as though my heart would
break. There I stayed till evening, when
my mother had Kitty taken up very gen-
tly, carried into the house, and laid on a
soft cushion. Then my father carefully
examined her hurt. Hie shook his head,
said she could not possibly get well, and
that she should be put out of her misery
at once. But I begged that she migl be

w 4





KETURAH, THE CAT.


allowed to live till the next day. I did
not eat much supper that night, or break-
fast in the morning, but grieved incessant-
ly for her who had been to me a fast friend
in sickness as in health.
About nine o'clock of a pleasant Sep-
tember morning, my brothers came and
held a council round poor Kitty, who was
lying on a cushion in my lap, moaning
with every breath; and they decided
that, out of pity for her suffering, they
must put her to death. The next ques-
tion was, how this was fo be done. "Cut
her hea ff with the axe!" said my
brother trles, trying to look very manly
and stern, with his lip quivering all the
while. But my brother William, who
had just b reading a history of the
French Re tion, and how they took
off the he of people with a machine
called the guillotine, suggested that the
straw-cutter in the barn would do the
work as well, and not be so painful for
the executioner. This was agreed to by
all present.


13





HISTORY OF MY jETS.


Weeping harder than ever, I then took
a last leave of my dear pet, my good
and loving and beautiful Kitty. They
took her to the guillotine, while I ran and
shut myself up in a dark closet, and stop-
ped my ears till they came and told me
that all was over.
The next time I saw my poor pet, she
was lying in a cigar-box, ready for burial.
They had bound her head on very cleverly
with bandages, and washed all the blood
off from her white breast; clover-blos-
soms were scattered over her, and a green
sprig of catnip was placed been her
paws. My youngest brother, Al t, drew
her on his little wagon to the grave, which
was dug under a large elm-tree, in a cor-
ner of the yard. The next I planted
over her a shrub called tf' pussy-wil-
low." W
After that I had many pet kittens, but
none that ever quite filled the place of
poor Keturah. Yet I still have a great
partiality for the feline race. I like noth-





KETURAH, THE CAT.


ing better than to sit, on a summer after-
noon or in a winter evening, and watch the
graceful gambols and mischievous frolics
of a playful kitten.
For some weeks past we 'have had with
us on the sea-shore a beautiful little Vir-
ginian girl, one of the loveliest creatures
alive, who has a remarkable fondness
for a pretty black and white kitten, belong-
ing to the house. All day long she will
have her pet in her arms, talking to her
when she thinks nobody is near, telling
her every thing, charging her to keep
some story to herself, as it is a very great se-
cret, sometimes reproving her for faults,
or praising her for being good. fier last
thought on going to sleep, and the first
on waking, is this kitten. She loves her
so fondly, that her father has promised
that she shall take her all the way to Vir-
ginia. We shall miss the frolicsome kit-
ten much, but the dear child far more.
O, we'll be so sad and lonely
In the dreary autumn weather,


15





HISTORY OF MY PETS.

For the birds and little Mary
Are going South together !
When upon the flowers of summer
Falls the cruel autumn blight,
And the pretty face of Mary
Has faded from our sight.
















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SAM, THE COCKEREL.


THE next pet which I remember to
have had was a handsome cockerel, as
gay and gallant a fellow as ever scratch-
ed up seed-corn, or garden-seeds, for the
young pullets.
Sam was a foundling; that is, he was
cast off by an unnatural mother, who,
from the time he was hatched, refused to
own him. In this sad condition my fa.
their found him, and brought him to me.
I took and p Khim in a basket of wool,
where I kept hng t. f the time, for a
week or two, feedi rly and
taking excellent c He grew
and thrived, "la'e a great
house-pet and favorite father was
2





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


especially amused by him, but my mother,
I am sorry to say, always considered him
rather troublesome, or, as she remarked,
"more plague than profit." Now I think
of it, it must have been rather trying to
have had him pecking at a nice loaf of
bread, when it was set down before the
fire to raise, and I don't suppose that the
print of his feet made the prettiest sort of
a stamp for cookies and pie-crust.
Sam was intelligent, very. I think I
never saw a fowl turn up his eye with
such'a cunning expression after a piece of
mischief. He showed such a real affection
for me, that I grew excessively fond of
him. But ah, I was more fond than wise!
Under my doting care, he never learnt to
roost like other chickens. I feared that
something dreadful might happen to him
if he went up into a high tree to sleep;
so when he grew too large to lie in his
basket of wool, I used to stow him away
very snugly in a leg of an old pair of pan-
taloons, and lay him in a' W~rm place un-





SAM, THE COCKEREL.


'der a corner of the wood-house. In the
morning I had always to take him out;
and as I was not, I regret to say, a very
early riser, the poor fellow never saw day-
light till two or three hours after all the
other cocks in the neighbourhood were up
and crowing.
After Sam was full-grown, and had a
"coat of many colors" and a tail of gay
feathers, it was really very odd and laugh-
able to see how every evening, just at sun-
down, he would leave all the other fowls
with whom he had strutted and crowed
and fought all day, and come meekly to
me, to be put to bed in the old pantaloons.
tut one morning, one sad, dark morn-
ing, I found him strangely still when I
went to release him from his nightly con-
finement. He did not flutter, nor give a
sort of smothered crow, as he usually did.
The leg of which I took hold to pull him
out, seemed very cold and stiff. Alas, he
had but one leg! Alas, he had no head
at all! My poor Sam had been murdered


19





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


and partly devoured by a cruel rat some
time in the night! .
I took the mangled body into the hi e,
and sat down in a corner with it in my
lap, and cried over it for a long time. It
may seem very odd and ridiculous, but I
really grieved for my dead pet; for I be-
lieved he had loved and respected me as
much as it is in a cockerel's heart to love
and respect any one. I knew I had loved
him, and I reproached myself bitterly for
never having allowed him to learn to
roost.
At last, my brothers came to me, and
very kindly and gently persuaded me to
let Sa be buried out of my sight. They
dug a little grave under the elm-tree, by
the side of Keturah, laid the body down,
wrapped in a large cabbage-leaf, filled in
the earth, and turfed over the place. My
brother Rufus, who knew a little Latin,
printed on a shingle the words, Hic ja-
cet Samuelus," which mean, Here lies
Sam, -and placed it above where the


20





SAM, THE COCKEREL.


head of the unfortunate fowl should have
been.
I missed this pet very much; indeed,
every body missed him after he was gone,
and even now I cannot laugh heartily
when I think of the morning when I
found him dead.
A short time after this mournful event,
my brother Rufus, who was something of
a poet, wrote some lines for me, which he
called a "Lament." This I then thought
a very affecting, sweet, and consoling
poem, but I have since been inclined to
think that my brother was making sport
of me and my feelings all the time. I
found this same Lament" the other day
among some old papers, and as it is quite
a curiosity, I will let you see it:-

Full twenty suns have risen and set
And eke as many moons,
Since I found thee dead, without a head,
In the bloody pantaloons!

"As thy foe did rob thee of a leg
In his hunger and despite,


21





22 HISTORY OF MY PETS.

An L. E. G. I give to thee,
In song, dear Sam, to-night.

Thy tail was full of feathers gay;
Thy comb was red and fine;
I hear no crow, where'er I go,
One half so loud as thine.

0, I mourn thee still, as on the morn
When cold and stiff I found thee,
And laid thee dead, without a head,
The cabbage-leaf around thee "








































































































-'Ze ? --?i
C-




Q
3












TOBY, THE HAWK.


-4--

ABOUT the queerest pet that I ever had
was a young hawk. My brother Rufus,
who was a great sportsman, brought him
home to me one night in spring. He had
shot the mother-hawk, and found this
young half-fledged one in the nest. I re-
ceived the poor orphan with joy, for he
was too small for me to feel any horror of
him, though his family had. long borne
rather a bad nanle. I resolved that I
would bring him up in the way he should
go, so that when he was old he should
not destroy chickens. At first, I kept
him in a bird-cage, but after a while he
grew too large for his quarters, and had to
have a house built for him expressly. I




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


let him learn to roost, but I tried to bring
hin up on vegetable diet. I found, how-
ever, that this would not do. He eat the
bread and grain to be sure, but he did not
thrive; he looked very lean, and smaller
than hawks of his age should look. At
last I was obliged to give up my fine idea of
making an innocent dove, or a Grahamite,
out of the poor fellow, and one morning
treated him to a slice of raw mutton. I
remember how he flapped his wings and
cawed with delight, and what a hearty
meal he made of it. He grew very fat
and glossy after this important change in
his diet, and I became as proud of him as
of any pet I ever had. But my mother,
after a while, found fault with the great
quantity of meat which he devoured. She
said that he eat more beef-steak than any
other member of the family. Once, when
I was thinking about this, and feeling a
good deal troubled lest some day, when I
was gone to school, they at .home might
take a fancy to cut off the head of my pet


24




TOl .THE HAWK. 25.

to save his bom ill, a bright thought
came into my mtnd. There was running
through our farm, at a short distance
from our house, a large mill-stream, along
the banks of which lived and croaked a
vast multitude of frogs. These animals
are thought by hawks, as well as French-
men, very excellent eating. So, every
morning, noon, and night, I took Toby on
my shoulder, ran down to the mill-stream,
and let him satisfy his appetite on all such
frogs as were so silly as to stay out of the
water and be caught. He was very quick
and active, -would pounce upon a great,
green croaker, and have him halved and
quartered and hid away in a twinkling.
I generally looked in another direction
while he was at his meals, it is not po-
lite to keep your eye on people when they
are eating, and then I could n't help pity-
ing the poor frogs. But I knew that
hawks must live, and say what they might,
my Toby never prowled about hen-coops
to devour young chickens. I taught him
3




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


better morals than that, and kept him so
well fed that he was never tempted to such
wickedness. I have since thought that, if
we want people to do right, we must treat
them as I treated my hawk; for when we
think a man steals because his heart is
full of sin, it may be only because his
stomach is empty of food.
When Toby had finished his meal,
he would wipe his beak with his wing,
mount on my shoulder, and ride home
again; sometimes, when it was a very
warm day and he had dined more heartily
than usual, he would fall asleep during
the ride, still holding onto his place with
his long, sharp claws. Sometimes I would
come home with my pinafore torn and
bloody on the shoulder, and then my mo-
ther would scold me a little and laugh at
me a great deal. I would blush and hang
my head and cry, but still cling to my
strange pet; and when he got full grown
and had wide, strong wings, and a great,
crooked beak that every body else was





TOBY, THE HAWK.


afraid of, I was still his warm friend and
his humble servant, still carried him to
his meals three times a day, shut him into
his house every night, and let him out
every morning. Such a life as that 1ird
led me!
Toby was perfectly tame, and never at-
tempted to fly beyond the yard. I thought
this was because he loved me too well to
leave me; but my brothers, to whom he
was rather cross, said it was because he
was a stupid fowl. Of course they only
wanted to tease me. I said that Toby
was rough, but honest; that it was true
he did not make a display of his talents
like some folks, but that I had faith to
believe that, some time before he %died, he
would prove himself to them all to be a
bird of good feelings and great intelli-
gence.
Finally the time came for Toby to be
respected -as he deserved. One autumn
night I had him with me in the sitting-
room, where I played with him and let


27





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


him perch on my arm till it was quite late.
Some of the neighbours were in, and the
whole circle told ghost-stories, and talked
about dreams, and warnings, and awful
murders, till I was half frightened out of
my wits; so that, when I went to put my
sleepy hawk into his little house, I really
dared not go into the dark, but stopped in
the entry, and left him to roost for one
night on the hat-rack, saying nothing to
any one. Now it happened that my broth-
er William, who was then about fourteen
years of age, was a somnambulist, that
is, a person who walks in sleep. He
would often rise in the middle of the
night, and ramble off for miles, always re-
turning unwaked. Sometimes he would
take the horse from the stable, saddle and
bridle him, and have a wild gallop in the
moonlight. Sometimes he would drive
the cows home from pasture, or let the
sheep out of the pen. Sometimes he
would wrap himself in a sheet, glide about
the house, and appear at our bedside like


28




TOBY, THE HAWK.


a ghost. But in the morning he had no
recollection of these things. Of course,
we were very anxious about him, and tried
to keep a constant watch over him, but he
would sometimes manage to escape from
all our care. Well, that night there was
suddenly a violent outcry set up in the en-
try. It was Toby, who shrieked and flap-
ped his wings till he woke my father, who
dressed and went down stairs to see what
was the matter. He found the door wide
open, and the hawk sitting uneasily on his
perch, looking frightened and indignant,
with all his feathers raised. My father, at
once suspecting what had happened, ran
up to William's chamber and found his
bed empty; he then roused my elder
brothers, and, having lit a lantern, they
all started off in pursuit of the poor boy.
They searched through the yard, garden,
and orchard, but all in vain. Suddenly
they heard the saw-mill, which stood near,
going. They,knew that the owner never
worked there at night, and supposed that


29




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


it must be my brother, who had set the
machinery in motion. So down they ran
as fast as possible, and, sure enough, they
found him there, all by himself. A large
log had the night before been laid in its
place ready for the morning, and on that
log sat my brother, his large black eyes
staring wide open, yet seeming to be fixed
on nothing, and his face as pale as death.
He seemed to have quite lost himself, for
the end of the log on which he sat was
fast approaching the saw. My father, with
great presence of mind, stopped the ma-
chinery, while one of my brothers caught
William and pulled him from his perilous
place. Another moment, and he would
have been killed or horribly mangled by
the cruel saw. With a terrible scream,
that was heard to a great distance, poor
William awoke. He cried bitterly when
he found where he was and how he came
there. He was much distressed by it for
some time; but it was a very good thing
for all that, for he never walked in his sleep
again.


30




TOBY, THE HAWK.


As you would suppose, Toby, received
much honor for so promptly giving the
warning on that night. Every body now
acknowledged that he was a hawk of great
talents, as well as talons. But alas! he
did not live long to enjoy the respect of
his fellow-citizens. One afternoon that
very autumn, I was sitting at play with
my doll, under the thick shade of a ma-
ple-tree, in front of the house. On the
fence near by sat Toby, lazily pluming his
wing, and enjoying the pleasant, golden
sunshine, now and then glancing round
at me with a most knowing and patron-
izing look. Suddenly, there was the sharp
crack of a gun fired near, and Toby fell
fluttering to the ground. A stupid sports-
man had taken him for a wild hawk, and
shot him in the midst of his peaceful and
innocent enjoyment. He was wounded in
a number of places, and was dying fast
when I reached him. Yet he seemed to
know me, and looked up into my face so
piteously, that I sat down by him, as I


31




32 HISTORY OF MY PETS.

had sat down by poor Keturah, and cried
aloud. Soon the sportsman, who was a
stranger, came leaping over the fence to
bag his game. When he found what he
had done, he said he was very sorry, and
stooped down to examine the wounds
made by his shot. Then Toby roused
himself, and caught one of his fingers in
his beak, biting it almost to the bone.
The man cried out with the pain, and tried
to shake him off, but Toby still held on
fiercely and stoutly, and held on till he
was dead. Then his ruffled wing grew
smooth, his head fell back, his beak part-
ed and let go the bleeding finger of his
enemy.
I did not want the man hurt, for he
had shot my pet under a mistake, but I
was not sorry to see Toby die like a hero.
We laid him with the pets who had gone
before. Some were lovelier in their lives,
but none more lamented when dead. I
will venture to say that he was the first
of his race who ever departed with a clean




TOBY, THE HAWK. 33

conscience as regarded poultry. No care-
ful mother-hen cackled with delight on
the day he died, no pert young rooster
flapped his wings and crowed over his
grave. But I must say, I don't think that
the frogs mourned for him. I thought that
they were holding a jubilee that night;
the old ones croaked so loud, and the
young ones sung so merrily, that I wished
the noisy green creatures all quietly doing
brown, on some Frenchman's gridiron.












MILLY, THE PONY, AND CARLO,
THE DOG.

6-4

WHEN I was ten or eleven years of age,
I had two pets, of which I was equally
fond, a gentle bay pony and a small
pointer dog. I have always had a great
affection for horses, and never knew what
it was to be afraid of them, for they are
to me exceedingly obliging and obedient.
Some people think that I control them
with a sort of animal magnetism. I only
know that I treat them with kindness,
which is, I believe, after all, the only mag-
netism necessary for one to use in this
world. When I ride, I give my horse to
understand that I expect him to behave
very handsomely, like the gentleman I













































Sit:





MILLY AND CARLO.


take him to be, and he never disappoints
me.
Our Milly was a great favorite with all
the family, but with the children especial-
ly. She was not very handsome or re-
markably fleet, but was easily managed,
and even in her gait. I loved her dearly,
and we were on the best terms with each
other. I was in the habit of going into
the pasture where she fed, mounting her
from the fence or a stump, and riding
about the field, often without saddle or bri-
dle. You will see by this that I was a sad
romp. Milly seemed to enjoy the sport
fully as much as I, and would arch her
neck, and toss her mane, and gallop up and
down the little hills in the pasture, now
and then glancing round at me playfully,
as much as to say, "Aint we having
times !"
Finally, I began to practise riding stand-
ing upright, as I had seen the circus per-
formers do, for I thought it was time I
should do something to distinguish my-


35




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


self. After a few tumbles on to the soft
clover, which did me no sort of harm, I
became quite accomplished that way. I
was at that age as quick and active as a
cat, and could save myself from a fall af-
ter I had lost my balance, and seemed half-
way to the ground. I remember that my
brother William was very ambitious to
rival me in my exploits; but as he was
unfortunately rather fat and heavy, he did
a greater business in turning somersets
from the back of the pony than in any
other way. But these were quite as amus-
ing as any other part of the performances.
We sometimes had quite a good audi-
4ene df the neighbours' children, and our
schoolmates, but we never invited our
parents to attend the exhibition. We
thought that on some accounts it was best
they should know nothing about it.
In addition to the ring performances,"
I gave riding lessons to my youngest broth-
er, Albert, who was then quite a little
boy. He used to mount Milly behind


36





MILLY AND CARLO.


me, and behind him always sat one of our
chief pets, and our constant playmate,
Carlo, a small black and white pointer.
One afternoon, I remember, we were all
riding down the long, shady lane which
led from the pasture to the house, when a
mischievous boy sprang suddenly out from
a corner of the fence, and shouted at Mil-
ly. I never knew her frightened before,
but this time she gave a loud snort, and
reared up almost straight in the air. As
there was neither saddle nor bridle for us
to hold on by, we all three slid off back-
ward into the dust, or rather the mud, for
it had been raining that afternoon. Poor
Carlo was most hurt, as my brother and I
fell on him. He set up a terrible yelping,
and my little brother cried somewhat from
fright. Milly turned and looked at us a
moment to see how much harm was done,
and then started off at full speed after the
boy, chasing him down the lane. He ran
like a fox when he heard Milly galloping
fast behind him, and when he looked


37





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


round and saw her close upon him, with
her ears laid back, her mouth open, and
her long mane flying in the wind, he
screamed with terror, and dropped as
though he were dead. She did not stop,
but leaped clear over him as he lay on
the ground. Then she turned, went up
to him, quietly lifted the old straw hat
.from his head, and came trotting back to
us, swinging it in her teeth. We thought
that was a very cunning trick of Milly's.
Now it happened that I had on that
day a nice new dress, which I had sadly
soiled by my fall from the pony; so that
when I reached home, my mother was
greatly displeased. I suppose I made a
very odd appearance. I was swinging my
bonnet in my hand, for I had a natural
dislike to any sort of covering for the
head. My thick, dark hair had become
unbraided and was blowing over my eyes.
I was never very fair in complexion, and
my face, neck, and arms had become com-
oletely browned by that summer's expos-


38





MILLY AND CARLO.


ure. My mother took me by the should
der, set me down in a chair, not very.
gently, and looked at me with a real frown.
on her sweet face. She told me in plain.
terms that I was an idle, careless child!
I put my finger in one corner of my
mouth, and swung my foot back and forth.
She said I was a great romp! I pouted
my lip, and drew down my black eye-
brows. She said I was more like a wild,
young squaw, than a white girl! Now
this was too much; it was what I called
" twitting upon facts "; and 't was not the
first time that the delicate question of my
complexion had been touched upon with-
out due regard for my feelings. I was not
to blame for being dark, I did not make
myself, I had seen fairer women than my
mother. I felt that what she said was
neither more nor less than an insult, and
when she went out to see about supper,
and left me alone, I brooded over her
words, growing more and more out of hu-
mor, till my naughty heart became so hot


39





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


and big with anger, that it almost choked
me. At last, I bit my lip and looked very
stern, for I had made up my mind to some-
thing great. Before I let you know what
this was, I must tell you that the Onon-
daga tribe of Indians had their village not
many miles from us. Every few months,
parties of them came about with baskets
and mats to sell. A company of five or
six had been to our house that very morn-
ing, and I knew that they had their en-
campment in our woods, about half a mile
distant. These I knew very well, and
had quite a liking for them, never think-
ing of being afraid of them, as they al-
ways seemed kind and peaceable.
To them I resolved to go in my trouble.
They would teach me to weave baskets,
to fish, and to shoot with the bow and ar-
row. They would not make me study, nor
wear bonnets, and they would never find
fault with my dark complexion.
I remember to this day how softly and
slyly I slid out of the house that evening.


40





MILLY AND CARLO.


I never stopped once, nor looked round,
but ran swiftly till I reached the woods.
I did not know which way to go to find
the encampment, but wandered about in
the gathering darkness, till I saw a light
glimmering through the trees at some dis-
tance. I made my way through the bushes
and brambles, and after a while came up-
on my copper-colored friends. In a very
pretty place, down in a hollow, they had
built them some wigwams with maple
saplings, covered with hemlock-boughs.
There were in the group two Indians, two
squaws, and a boy about fourteen years
old. But I must not forget the baby, or
rather pappoose, who was lying in a sort
of cradle, made of a large, hollow piece
of bark, which was hung from the branch
of a tree, by pieces of the wild grape-vine.
The young squaw, its mother, was swing-
ing it back and forth, now far into the
dark shadows of the pine and hemlock,
now out into the warm fire-light, and
chanting to the child some Indian lullaby.
4


41





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


The men sat on a log, smoking gravely
and silently; while the boy lay on the
ground, playing lazily with a great yellow
hound, which looked mean and starved,
like all Indian dogs. The old squaw was
cooking the supper in a large iron pot, over
a fire built among a pile of stones.
For some time, I did not dare to go for-
ward, but at last I went up to the old
squaw, and looking up into her good-hu-
mored face, said, "I am come to live
with you, and learn to make baskets, for I
don't like my home." She did not say
any thing to me, but made some exclama-
tion in her own language, and the others
came crowding round. The boy laughed,
shook me by the hand, and said I was a
brave girl; but the old Indian grinned
horribly and laid his hand on my forehead,
saying, "What a pretty head to scalp!"
I screamed and hid my face in the young
squaw's blue cloth skirt. She spoke sooth-
ingly, and told me not to be afraid, for
nobody would hurt me. She then took


42





MILLY AND CARLO.


me to her wigwam, where I sat down and
tried to make myself at home. But some-
how I did'nt feel quite comfortable. After
a while, the old squaw took off the pot,
and called us to supper. This was succo-
tash, that is, a dish of corn and beans,
cooked with salt pork. We all sat down
on the ground near the fire, and eat out of
great wooden bewls, with wooden spoons,
which I must say tasted rather too strong
of the pine. But I did not say so then, -
by no means, but eat a great deal more
than I wanted, and pretended to relish it,
for fear they would think me ill bred. I
would not have had them know but what
I thought their supper served in the very
best style, and by perfectly polite and gen-
teel people. I was a little shocked, how-
ever, by one incident during the meal.
While the young squaw was helping her
husband for the third or fourth time, she
accidentally dropped a little of the hot
succotash on his hand. He growled out
like a dog, and struck her across the


43





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


face with his spoon. I thought that she
showed a most Christian spirit, for she
hung her head and did not say any thing.
I had heard of white wives behaving
worse.
When supper was over, the boy came
and laid down at my feet, and talked with
me about living in the woods. He said
he pitied the poor white people for being
shut up in houses all their days. For his
part, he should die of such a dull life, he
knew he should. He promised to teach
me how to shoot with the bow and arrows,
to snare partridges and rabbits, and many
other things. He said he was afraid I
was almost spoiled by living in the house
and going to school, but he hoped that, if
they took me away and gave me a new
name, and dressed me properly, they
might make something of me yet. Then
I asked him what he was called, hoping
that he had some grand Indian name, like
Uncas, or Miantonimo, or Tushmalahah;
but he said it was Peter. He was a pleas-


44





MILLY AND CARLO.


ant fellow, and while he was talking with
me I did not care about my home, but
felt very brave and squaw-like, and began
to think about the fine belt of wampum,
and the head-dress of gay feathers, and
the red leggins, and the yellow moccasons
I was going to buy for myself, with the
baskets I was going to learn to weave.
But when he left me, and I went back to
the wigwam and sat down on the hemlock
boughs by myself, somehow I couldn't
keep home out of my mind. I thought
first of my mother, how she would miss
the little brown face at the supper-table,
and on the pillow, by the fair face of my
blue-eyed sister. I thought of my young
brother, Albert, crying himself to sleep,
because I was lost. I thought of my fa-
ther and brothers searching through the
orchard and barn, and going with lights
to look in the mill-stream. Again, I
thought of my mother, how, when she
feared I was drowned, she would cry bit-
terly, and be very sorry for what she had


45




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


said about my dark complexion. Then I
thought of myself, how I must sleep on
the hard ground, with nothing but hem-
lock-boughs for covering, and nobody to
tuck me up. What if it should storm be-
fore morning, and the high tree above me
should be struck by lightning! What if
the old Indian should not be a tame sav-
age after all, but should take a fancy to
set up the war-whoop, and come and scalp
me in the middle of the night!
The bell in the village church rang for
nine. This was the hour for evening de-
votions at home. I looked round to see
if my new friends were preparing for wor-
ship. But the old Indian was already fast
asleep, and as for the younger one, I feared
that a man who indulged himself in beat-
ing his wife with a wooden spoon would
hardly be likely to lead in family prayers.
Upon the whole, I concluded I was among
rather a heathenish set. Then I thought
again of home, and doubted whether they
would have any family worship that night,


46





MILLY AND CARLO.


with one lamb of the flock gone astray.
I thought of all their grief and fears, till I
felt that my heart would burst with sor-
row and repentance, for I dared not cry
aloud.
Suddenly, I heard a familiar sound at a
little distance, it was Carlo's bark!
Nearer and nearer it came; then I heard
steps coming fast through the crackling
brushwood, then little Carlo sprang out
of the dark into the fire-light, and leaped
upon me, licking my hands with joy. He
was followed by one of my elder brothers,
and by my mother! To her I ran. I
dared not look in her eyes, but hid my
face in her bosom, sobbing out, 0 moth-
er, forgive me! forgive me !" She pressed
me to her heart, and bent down and
kissed me very tenderly, and when she
did so, I felt the tears on her dear cheek.
I need hardly say that I never again
undertook to make an Onondaga squaw
of myself, though my mother always held
that I was dark enough to be one, and.I


47




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


suppose the world would still bear her out
in her opinion.
I am sorry to tell the fate of the faith-
ful dog who tracked me out on that night,
though his story is not quite so sad as that
of some of my pets. A short time after
this event, my brother Charles was going
to the city of S- some twenty miles
away, and wished to take Carlo for com-
pany. I let him go very reluctantly,
charging my brother to take good and
Constant care of him. The last time I
ever saw Carlo's honest, good-natured face,
it was looking out at me through the
window of the carriage. The last time,
for he never came back to us, but was lost
in the crowded streets of S- .
He was a simple, country-bred pointer,
and, like many another poor dog, was be-
wildered by the new scenes and pleasures
of the city, forgot his guide, missed his
way, wandered off, and was never found.


48












CORA, THE SPANIEL.


-4--

THE pet which took little Carlo's place
in our home and hearts was a pretty,
chestnut-colored water-spaniel, named Co-
ra. She was a good, affectionate creature,
and deserved all our love. The summer
that we had her for our playmate, my
brother Albert, my sister Carrie, and I,
spent a good deal of time down about the
pond, in watching her swimming, and all
her merry gambols in the water. There
grew, out beyond the reeds and flags of
that pond, a few beautiful, white water-
lilies, which we taught her to bite off and
bring to us on shore.
Cora seemed to love us very much, but
there was one whom she loved even more.
5




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


This was little Charlie Allen, a pretty boy
of about four or five years old, the only
son of a widow, who was a tenant of my
father, and lived in a small house on our
place. There grew up a great and tender
friendship between this child and our Cora,
who was always with him while we were
at school. The two would play and run
about for hours, and when they were tired,
lie down and sleep together in the shade.
It was a pretty sight, I assure you, for
both were beautiful.
It happened that my father, one morn-
ing, took Cora with him to the village,
and was gone nearly all day; so little
Charlie was without his playmate and pro-
tector. But after school, my sister, broth-
er, and I called Cora, and ran down to
the pond. We were to have a little com-
pany that night, and wanted some of those
fragrant, white lilies for our flower-vase.
Cora barked and leaped upon us, and ran
round and round us all the way. Soon
as she reached the pond, she sprang in


50





CORA, THE SPANIEL.


and swam out to where the lilies grew,
and where she was hid from our sight by
the flags and other water-plants. Pres-
ently, we heard her barking and whining,
as though in great distress. We called
to her again and again, but she did not
come out for some minutes. At last, she
came through the flags, swimming slowly
along, dragging something by her teeth.
As she swam near, we saw that it was a
child,-- little Charlie Allen! We then
waded out as far as we dared, met Cora,
took her burden from her, and drew it
to the shore. As soon as we took little
Charlie in our arms, we knew that he was
dead. He was cold as ice, his eyes were
fixed in his head, and had no light in
them. His hand was stiff and blue, and
still held tightly three water-lilies, which
he had plucked. We suppose the poor
child slipped from a log, on which he had
gone out for the flowers, and which was
half under water.
Of course we children were dreadfully


51




62


HISTORY OF MY PETS.


frightened. My brother was half beside
himself, and ran screaming up home, while
my sister almost flew for Mrs. Allen.
0, I never shall forget the grief of that
poor woman, when she came to the spot
where her little dead boy lay! how she
threw herself on the ground beside him,
and folded him close in her arms, and tried
to warm him with her tears and her kisses,
and tried to breathe her own breath into
his still, cold lips, and tried to make him
hear by calling, "Charlie, Charlie, speak
to mamma! speak to your poor mamma! "
But Charlie did not see her, nor feel
her, nor hear her any more; and when
she found that he was indeed gone from
her for ever, she gave the most fearful
shriek I ever heard, and fell back as
though she were dead.
By this time, my parents and a number
of the neighbours had reached the spot,
and they carried Mrs. Allen and her
drowned boy home together, through the
twilight. Poor Cora followed close to





CORA, THE SPANIEL.


the body of Charlie, whining piteously all
the way. That night, we could not get
her out of the room where it was placed,
but she watched there until morning.
Ah, how sweetly little Charlie looked
when he was laid out the next day! His
beautiful face had lost the dark look that
it wore when he was first taken from the
water; his pretty brown hair lay in close
ringlets all around his white forehead.
One hand was stretched at his side, the
other was laid across his breast, still hold-
ing the water-lilies. He was not dressed
in a shroud, but in white trousers, and a
pretty little spencer of pink gingham.
He did not look dead, but sleeping, and
he seemed to smile softly, as though he
had a pleasant dream in his heart.
Widow Allen had one other child, a year
younger than Charlie, whose name was
Mary, but who always called herself Lit-
tle May." O, it would have made you cry
to have seen her when she was brought
to look on her dead brother. She laughed


53





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


at first, and put her small fingers on his
shut eyes, trying to open them, and said,
" Wake up Charlie! wake up, and come
play out doors, with little May!" But
when she found that those eyes would
not unclose, and when she felt how cold
that face was, she was grieved and fright-
ened, and ran to hide her face in her
mother's lap, where she cried and trem-
bled; for though she could not know what
death was, she felt that something awful
had happened in the house.
But Cora's sorrow was also sad to see.
When the body of Charlie was carried to
the grave, she followed close to the coffin,
and when it was let down into the grave,
she leaped in and laid down upon it, and
growled and struggled when the men took
her out. Every day after that, she would
go to that grave, never missing the spot,
though there were many other little
mounds in the old church-yard. She
would lie beside it for hours, patiently
waiting, it seemed, for her young friend to


54





CORA, THE SPANIEL.


awake and come out into the sunshine,
and run about and play with her as he
was used to do. Sometimes she would
dig a little way into the mound, and bark,
or whine, and then listen for the voice of
Charlie to answer. But that voice never
came, though the faithful Cora listened
and waited and pined for it, through
many days. She ate scarcely any thing;
she would not play with us now, nor could
we persuade her to go into the pond.
Alas! that fair, sweet child, pale and drip-
ping from the water, was the last lily she
ever brought ashore. She grew so thin,
and weak, and sick, at last, that she could
hardly drag herself to the grave. But
still she went there every day. One even-
ing, she did not come home, and my
brother and I went down for her. When
we reached the church-yard, we passed
along very carefully, for fear of treading
on some grave, and spoke soft and low,
as children should always do in such
places. Sometimes we stopped to read


55





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


the long inscriptions on handsome tomb-
stones, and to wonder why so many great
and good people were taken away. Some-
times we pitied the poor dead people who
had no tombstones at all, because their
friends could not afford to raise them, or
because they had been too wicked them-
selves to have their praises printed in
great letters, cut in white marble, and put
up .in the solemn burying-ground, where
nobody would ever dare to write or say
any thing but the truth. When we came
in sight of Charlie's grave, we talked
about him. We wondered if he thought
of his mother, and cried out any when he
was drowning. We thought that he must
have grown very weary with struggling in
the water, and we wondered if he was
resting now, sleeping down there with his
lilies. We said that perhaps his soul was
awake all the time, and that, when he was
drowned, it did not fly right away to
heaven, with the angels, to sing hymns,
while his poor mother was weeping, but





CORA, THE SPANIEL. 57

stayed about the place, and somehow com-
forted her, and made her think of God
and heaven, even when she lay awake in
the night, to mourn for her lost boy.
So talking, we came up to the grave.
Cora was lying on the mound, where the
grass had now grown green and long.
She seemed to be asleep, and not to hear
our steps or our voices. My brother spoke
to her pleasantly, and patted her on the
head. But she did not move. I bent
down and looked into her face. She was
quite dead!












JACK, THE DRAKE.


I HAVE hesitated a great deal about
writing the history of this pet, for his lit-
tle life was only a chapter of accidents,
and you may think it very silly. Still, I
hope you may have a little interest in it
after all, and that your kind hearts may
feel for poor Jack, for he was good and
was unfortunate.
It happened that once, during a walk in
the fields, I found a duck's egg right in
my path. We had then no ducks in our
farm-yard, and I thought it would be a
fine idea to have one for a pet. So I
wrapped the egg in wool, and put it into a
basket, which I hung in a warm corer
by the kitchen-fire. My brothers laughed





JACK, THE DRAKE.


at me, saying that the egg would never be
any thing niore than an egg, if left there;
but I had faith to believe that I should
some time see a fine duckling peeping out
of the shell, very much to the astonish-
ment of all unbelieving boys. I used to
go to the basket, lift up the wool and look
at that little blue-hued treasure three or
four times a day, or take it out and hold
it against my bosom, and breathe upon it
in anxious expectation; until I began to
think that a watched egg never would
hatch. But my tiresome suspense finally
came to a happy end. At about the time
when, if he had had a mother, she would
have been looking for him, Jack, the
drake, presented his bill to the world that
owed him a living. He came out as
plump and hearty a little fowl as could
reasonably have been expected. But what
to do with him was the question. After
a while, I concluded to take him to a hen
who had just hatched a brood of chick-
ens, thinking that, as he was a friendless


59





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


orphan, she might adopt him for charity's
sake. But Biddy was already like the cel-
ebrated
Old woman that lived in a shoe,
Who had so many children she didn't know what to do."
With thirteen little ones of her own, and
living in a small and rather an inconven-
ient coop, it was no wonder that she felt
unwilling to have any addition to her fam-
ily. But she might have declined civilly.
I am afraid she was a sad vixen, for no
sooner did she see the poor duckling
among her chickens, than she strode up
to him, and with one peck tore the skin
from his head,--scalped him,--the old
savage! I rescued Jack from her as
soon as possible, and dressed his wound
with lint as well as I could, for I felt
something like a parent to the fowl my-
self. He recovered after a while, but,
unfortunately, no feathers grew again on
his head, he was always quite bald, -
which gave him an appearance of great
age. I once tried to remedy this evil by


60




JACK, THE DRAKE.


sticking some feathers on to his head with
tar; but, like all other wigs, it deceived
no one, only making him look older and
queerer than ever. What made the mat-
ter worse was, that I had selected some
long and very bright feathers, which stood
up so bold on his head that the other
fowls resented it, and pecked at the poor
wig till they pecked it all off.
While Jack was yet young, he one day
fell into the cistern, which had been left
open. Of course he could not get out,
and he soon tired of swimming, I suppose,
and sunk. At least, when he was drawn
up, he looked as though he had been in
the water a long time, and seemed quite
dead. Yet, hoping to revive him, I placed
him in his old basket of wool, which I set
down on the hearth. He did indeed come
to life, but the first thing the silly creature
did on leaving his nest was to run into
the midst of the fire, and before I could
get him out, he was very badly burned.
He recovered from this also, but with bare


61





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


spots all over his body. In his tail there
never afterwards grew more than three
short feathers. But his trials were not
over yet. After he was full-grown, he
was once found fast by one leg in a great
iron rat-trap. When he was released, his
leg was found to be broken. But my
brother William, who was then inclined to
be a doctor, which he has since become,
and who had watched my father during
surgical operations, splintered and bound
up the broken limb, and kept the patient
under a barrel for" a week, so that he
should not attempt to use it. At the end
of that time, Jack could get about a little,
but with a very bad limp, which he never
got over. But as the duck family never
had the name of walking very handsome-
ly, that was no great matter.
After all these accidents and mishaps, I
hardly need tell you that Jack had little
beauty to boast of, or plume himself upon.
He was in truth sadly disfigured, about
the ugliest fowl possible to meet in a long




JACK, THE DRAKE.


day's journey. Indeed, he used to be
shown up to people as a curiosity on ac-
count of his ugliness.
I remember a little city girl coming to
see me that summer. She talked a great
deal about her fine wax-dolls with rolling
eyes and jointed legs, her white, curly
French lap-dog, and, best and prettiest of
every thing, her beautiful yellow canary-
bird, which sung and sung all the day long.
I grew almost dizzy with hearing of such
grand and wonderful things, and sat with
my mouth wide open to swallow her great
stories. At last, she turned to me and
asked, with a curl of her pretty red lips,
"Have you no pet-birds, little girl?"
Now, she always called me "little girl,"
though I was a year older and a head
taller than she. I replied, "Yes, I have
one," and led the way to the back-yard,
where I introduced her to Jack. I
thought I should have died of laughter
when she came to see him. Such faces as
she made up!
I am sorry to say, that the other fowls


63




HISTORY OF MY PETS.


in the yard, from the oldest hen down to
the rooster without spurs, and even to the
green goslings, seemed to see and feel
Jack's want of personal pretensions and
attractions, and always treated him with
marked contempt, not to say cruelty. The
little chickens followed him about, peep-
ing and cackling with derision, very much
as the naughty children of the old Bible
times mocked at the good, bald-headed
prophet. But poor Jack did n't have it in
his power to punish the ill-mannered crea-
tures as Elisha did those saucy children,
when he called the hungry she-bears to
put a stop to their wicked fun. In fact, I
don't think he would haye done so if he
could, for all this hard treatment never
made him angry or disobliging. He had
an excellent temper, and was always meek
and quiet, though there was a melancholy
hang to his bald head, and his three lone-
some tail-feathers drooped sadly toward
the ground. When he was ever so lean
and hungry, he would gallantly give up
his dinner to the plump, glossy-breasted


64





JACK, THE DRAKE.


pullets, though they would put on lofty
airs, step lightly, eye him scornfully, and
seem to be making fun of his queer looks
all the time. He took every thing so kind-
ly! He was like a few, a very few people
we meet, who, the uglier they grow, the
more goodness they have at heart, and the
worse the world treats them, the better
they are to it.
But Jack had one true friend. I liked
him, and more than once defended him
from cross old hens, and tyrannical cocks.
But perhaps my love was too much mixed
up with pity for him to have felt highly
complimented by it. Yet he seemed to
cherish a great affection for me, and to look
up to me as his guardian and protector.
As you have seen, Jack was always get-
ting into scrapes, and at last he got into
one which even I could not get him out
of. He one day rashly swam out into the
mill-pond, which was then very high, from
a freshet, and which carried him over the
dam, where, as he was a very delicate fowl,


65





66 HISTORY OF MY PETS.
9
he was drowned, or his neck was broken,
by the great rush and tumble of the wa-
ter. I have sometimes thought that it
might be that he was tired of life, and
grieved by the way the world had used
him, and so put an end to himself. But
I hope it was not so; for, with all his
oddities and misfortunes, Jack seemed
too sensible for that.

ELEGY.

Alas, poor lame, bald-headed Jack!
None mourned when he was dead,
And for the sake of her drowned drake
No young duck hung her head!

The old cocks said they saw him go,
Yet did not call him back,
For a death from hydropathy
Was a fit death for a quack.

The cockerels said, Well, that poor fowl
Is gone, who cares a penny ?"
And guessed he found that last deep dive
Was one duck-in too many.

The heartless pullets saw him,
Yet raised no warning cries,
As he swain o'er the dam,
And was drowned before their eyes!






















pl~'"


I


1.
~

L~ ~F-
~a~ac~QW











HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


HCTORo was the favorite hound of my
brother Rufus, who was extremely fond
of him, for he was one of the most beau-
tiful creatures ever seen, had an amiable
disposition, and was very intelligent You
would scarcely believe me, should I tell
you all his accomplishments and cunning
tricks. If one gave him a piece of money,
he would take it in his mouth and run at
once to the baker, or butcher, for his din-
ner. He was evidently fond of music,
and even seemed to have an ear for it,
and he would dance away merrily when-
ever he saw dancing. He was large and
strong, and in the winter, I remember, we
used to harness him to a little sleigh, on





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


which he drew my youngest brother to
school. As Hector was as fleet as the
wind, this sort of riding was rare sport.
At night we had but to start him off, and
he would go directly to the school-house
for his little master. Ah, Hector was a
wonderful dog!
A few miles from our house, there was
a pond, or small lake, very deep and dark,
and surrounded by a swampy wood. Here
my brothers used to go duck-shooting,
though it was rather dangerous sport, as
most of the shore of the pond was a soft
bog, but thinly grown over with grass and
weeds. It was said that cattle had been
known to sink in it, and disappear in a
short time.
One night during the hunting season,
one of my elder brothers brought a friend
home with him, a fine, handsome young
fellow, named Charles Ashley. It was ar-
ranged that they should shoot ducks about
the pond the next day. So in the morn-
ing they all set out in high spirits. In


68





HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


the forenoon they had not much luck, as
they kept too much together; but in the
afternoon they separated, my brothers giv-
ing their friend warning to beware of
getting into the bogs. But Ashley was a
wild, imprudent young man, and once,
having shot a fine large duck, which fell
into the pond near the shore, and Hector,
who was with him, refusing to go into the
water for it, he ran down himself. Before
he reached the edge of the water, he was
over his ankles in mire; then, turning
to go back, he sunk to his knees, and in
another moment he was waist-high in the
bog, and quite unable to help himself. He
laid his gun down, and, fortunately, could
rest one end of it on a little knoll of firmer
earth; but he still sunk slowly, till he was
in up to his arm-pits. Of course, he called
and shouted for help as loud as possible,
but my brothers were at such a distance
that they did not hear him so as to know
his voice. But Hector, after looking at
him in his sad fix a moment, started off on


69





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


a swift run, which soon brought him to his
master. My brother said that the dog then
began to whine, and run back and forth in
a most extraordinary manner, until he set
out to follow him to the scene of the ac-
cident. Hector dashed on through the
thick bushes, as though he were half dis-
tracted, every few moments turning back
with wild cries to hurry on his master.
When my brother came up to where his
friend was fixed in the mire, he could see
nothing of him at first. Then he heard a
faint voice calling him, and, looking down
near the water, he saw a pale face looking
up at him from the midst of the black
bog. He has often said that it was the
strangest sight that he ever saw. Poor
Ashley's arms, and the fowling-piece he
held, were now beginning to disappear,
and in a very short time he would have
sunk out of sight for ever Only to think
of such an awful death! My brother,
who had always great presence of mind,
lost no time in bending down a young tree


70





HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


from the bank where he stood, so that
Ashley could grasp it, and in that way be
drawn up, for, as you see, it would not
have been safe for him to go down to
where his friend sunk. When Ashley
had taken a firm hold of the sapling, my
brother let go of it, and it sprung back,
pulling up the young man without much
exertion on his part. Ashley was, how-
ever, greatly exhausted with fright and
struggling, and lay for some moments on
the bank, feeling quite unable to walk.
As soon as he was strong enough, he set
out for home with my brother, stopping
very often to rest and shake off the thick
mud, which actually weighed heavily upon
him. I never shall forget how he looked
when he came into the yard about sunset.
O, what a rueful and ridiculous figure he
cut! We could none of us keep from
laughing, though we were frightened at
first, and sorry for our guest's misfortune.
But after he was dressed in a dry suit of
my brother's, he looked funnier than ever,


71




72 HISTORY OF MY PETS.

for he was a tall, rather large person, and
the dress was too small for him every way.
Yet he laughed as heartily as any of us,
for he was very good-natured and merry.
It seems to me I can see him now, as he
walked about with pantaloons half way
up to his knees, coat-sleeves coming a little
below the elbows, and vest that would n't
meet at all, and told us queer Yankee
stories, and sung songs, and jested and
laughed all the evening. But once, I re-
member, I saw him go out on to the door-
step, where Hector was lying, kneel down
beside the faithful dog and actually hug
him to his breast.
When not hunting with his master,
Hector went with Albert and me in all
our rambles, berrying and nutting. We
could hardly be seen without him, and we
loved him almost as we loved one another.
One afternoon in early spring, we had
been into the woods for wild-flowers. I
remember that I had my apron filled with
the sweet claytonias, and the gay trilliums,





HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


and the pretty white flowers of the san-
guinaria, or blood-root," and hosts and
handfuls of the wild violets, yellow and
blue. My brother had taken off his cap
and filled it with beautiful green mosses,
all lit up with the bright red squaw-
berry. .Ve had just entered the long,
shady lane which ran down to the house,
and were talking and laughing very mer-
rily, when we saw a crowd of men and
boys running toward us and shouting as
they ran. Before them was a large, brown
bull-do that, as he came near, we saw
was foaming at the mouth. Then we
heard what the men were crying. It was,
" Mad dog!"
My brother and I stopped and clung to
each other in great trouble. Hector stood
before us and growled. The dog was al-
ready so near that we saw we could not es-
cape; he came right at us, with his dread-
ful frothy mouth wide open. He was just
upon us, when Hector caught him by the
throat, and the two rolled on the ground,
7


73





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


biting and struggling. But presently one
of the men came up and struck the mad
dog on the head with a large club, so
stunned him and finally killed him. But
Hector, poor Hector, was badly bitten in
the neck and breast, and all the men said
that he must die too, or he would go mad.
One of the neighbours went home with
us, and told my father and elder brothers
all about it. They were greatly troubled,
but promised that, for the safety of the
neighbourhood, Hector should be shot in
the morning. I remember how, while they
were talking, Hector lay on the door-step
licking his wounds, every now and then
looking round, as if he thought that there
was some trouble which he ought to-un-
derstand.
I shall never, never forget how I grieved
that night! I heard the clock strike ten,
eleven, and twelve, as I lay awake weep-
ing for my dear playfellow and noble pre-
server, who was to die in the morning.
Hector was sleeping in the next room, and


74





HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


once I got up and stole out to see him as
he lay on the hearth-rug in the clear moon-
light, resting unquietly, for his wounds
pained him. I went and stood so near that
my tears fell on his beautiful head; but I
was careful not to wake him, for I some-
how felt guilty toward him.
That night the weather changed, and
the next morning came up chilly and
windy, with no sunshine at all, as
though it would not have been a gloomy
day enough, any how. After breakfast -
ah! I remember well how little breakfast
was eaten by any of us that morning -
Hector was led out into the yard, and fas-
tened to a stake. He had never before in
all his life been tied, and he now looked
troubled and ashamed. But my mother
spoke pleasantly to him and patted him,
and he held up his head and looked proud
again. My mother was greatly grieved
that the poor fellow should have to die
for defending her children, and when she
turned from him and went into the house,


75





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


I saw she was in tears; so I cried louder
than ever. Qne after another, we all went
up and took leave of our dear and faithful
friend. My youngest brother clung about
him longest, crying and sobbing as though
his heart would break. It seemed that
we should never get the child away. My
brother Rufus said that no one should
shoot his dog but himself, and while we
children were bidding farewell, he stood
at a little distance loading his rifle. But
finally he also came up to takp leave. He
laid his hand tenderly on IEctor's held,
but did not speak to him or look into
his eyes, those sad eyes, which seemed
to be asking what all this crying meant.
He then stepped quickly back to his place,
and raised the rifle to his shoulder. Then
poor Hector appeared to understand it all,
and to know that he must die, for he gave
a loud, mournful cry, trembled all over,
and crouched toward the ground. My
brother dropped the gun, and leaned upon
it, pale and distressed. Then came the


76






HECTOR, THE GREYHOUND.


strangest thing of all. Hector seemed to
have strength given him to submit to his
hard fate; he stood up bravely again, but
turned away his head and closed his eyes.
My brother raised the rifle. I covered my
face with my hands. Then came a loud,
sharp report. I looked round and saw
Hector stretched at full length, with a
great stream of blood spouting from his
white breast, and reddening all the grass
about him. He was not quite dead, and
as we gathered around him, he looked up
into our faces ,and moaned. The ball
which pierced him had cut the cord in two
that bound him to the stake, and he was
free at the last. My brother, who had
thrown down his rifle, drew near also, but
dared not come close, because, he said, he
feared the poor dog would look reproach-
fully at him. But Hector caught sight
of his beloved master, and, rousing all
his strength, dragged himself to his feet.
Rufus bent over him and called him by
name. Hector looked up lovingly and for-


77





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


givingly into his face, licked his hand, and
died. Then my brother, who had kept a
firm, manly face all the while, burst into
tears.
My brother William, who was always
master of ceremonies on such occasions,
made a neat coffin for Hector, and laid him
in it, very gently and solemnly. I flung
in all the wild-flowers which Albert and I
had gathered on the afternoon of our last
walk with our noble friend, and so we
buried him. His grave was very near the
spot where he had so bravely defended us
from the mad dog, by the side of the way,
in the long, pleasant lane where the elm-
trees grew.


78












BOB, THE COSSET.


-.QNE cold night in March, my father
came in from the barn-yard, bringing a
little lamb, which lay stiff and still in
his arms, and appeared to be quite dead.
But my mother, who was good and kind
to all .creatures, wrapped it in flannel, and,
forcing open its teeth, poured some warm
milk down its throat. Still it did not open
its eyes or move, and when we went to
bed it was yet lying motionless before the
fire. It happened that my mother slept
in a room opening out of the sitting-room,
and in the middle of the night she heard
a little complaining voice, saying, Ma!"
She thought it must be some one of us,
and so answered, "What, my child "





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


Again it came, "Ma!" and, turning round,
she saw by the light of the moon the lit-
tle lamb she had left for dead standing by
her bedside. In the morning it was found
that the own mother of Bob," (for we
gave him that name,) had died of cold in
the night; so we adopted the poor orphan
into our family. We children took care of
him, and though it was a great trouble to
bring him up by hand, we soon became
attached to our charge, and grew very
proud of his handsome growth and thriv-
ing condition. He was, in truth, a most
amusing pet, he had such free manners
with every body and was so entirely at
home everywhere. He would go into ev-
ery room in the house, even mount the
stairs and appear in our chambers in the
morning, sometimes before we were up, to
shame us with his early rising. But the
place which of all others he decidedly pre-
ferred was the lntry. Here he was, I am
sorry to say, once or twice guilty of break-
ing the commandment against stealing, by


80






BOB, THE COSSET.


helping himself to fruit and to slices of
bread which did not rightfully belong to
him. He was tolerably amiable, though
I think that lambs generally have a greater
name for sweetness of temper than they
deserve. But Bob, though playful and
somewhat mischievous, had never any se-
rious disagreement with the dogs, cats,
pigs, and poultry on the premises. My
sister and I used to make wreaths for his
neck, which he wore with such an evident
attempt at display, that I sometimes feared
he was more vain and proud than it was
right for such an innocent and poetical
animal to be.
But our trials did not really commence
until Bob's horns began to sprout. It
seemed that he had no sooner perceived
those little protuberances in his looking-
glass, the drinking-trough, than he took
to butting, like any common pasture-
reared sheep, who had *en wholly with-
out the advantages of education and good
society. It was in vain that we tried


81





HISTORY OF MY PETS.


to impress upon him that such was not
correct conduct in a cosset of his breed-
ing; he would still persevere in his little
interesting trick of butting all such visit-
ors as did not happen to strike his fancy.
But he never treated us to his horns in
that way, and so we let him go, like any
other spoiled child, without punishing
him severely, and rather laughed at his
sauciness.
But one day our minister, a stout, el-
derly gentleman, solemn-faced and formal,
had been making us a parochial visit, and
as he was going away, we all went but
into the yard to see him ride off, on his
old sorrel pacer. It seems he had no
riding-whip; so he reached up to break off
a twig from an elm-tree which hung over
the gate. This was very high, and he was
obliged to stand on tiptoe. Just then,
before he had grasped the twig he wanted,
Bob started out4from under a large rose-
bush near by, and run against the rever-
end gentleman, butting him so violently


82




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