title: History of my pets
text: v\v\ •. ^ . VL'Jr H ^ ^ Jf • \ .;* , j§ ' «MpTw^’ *' - • «f fc#. t. f- i&g&S f ■“* 4v V— •,# ^ XfeJ# ^‘ A J * nSh^ - * ,■ wii zWifi? * ■"' 4 u •^•j Ak ®L^ J7 ^7-: .- ,£ jp *<Q2$L jl 4p '^LV ^-| > , rj v »V„' L 4 b^JK ' S/~ : Sfciif HQ':' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. CljiHi. .. CojnjririJjt T)o. Shelf UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. rj^yf > 3-7 / 3ng?£jjfc> gXHB. 'klim? 1 ;k * a Si » fPek ■ ■ r V- rWK a ... -yAi -V«» i^r^SS^ * .■feMjTajA^ar jSfrb^rtt. ■ x4CV *_,_ .f . &' ,- 4 y&; • 'VAfV t li ' Strife®^ $ 1 kStfi&ffiS ¥ taA Itiv -■> Kk^Mi - • ^VSA^:, - £%; tsi'fe . . J** * KETURAH AND LONG TOM—CATS HISTORY OF MY PETS BY GRACE GREENWOOD Author of “Stories of My Childhood,” etc. etc. With New Illustrations by Max F. Klepper \ \ NEW EDITION REVISED AND ENLARGED BY THE AUTHOR NEW YORK UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY SUCCESSORS TO JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY 142 TO 150 WORTH STREET Copyright, 1850, By Saha J. Clarke. Copyright, 1871, By James R. Osgood & Co. Copyright, 1890, By Sara J. Lippincott. AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO ALL GOOD CHILDREN AND A FEW NAUGHTY ONES, BY GRACE GREENWOOD. New York, July, 1890. CONTENTS. Preface,. 7 ^Keturah and Long Tom—Cats, • • *3 ^Sam the Rooster,.. ,/Toby the Hawk, .. 4 ° Phibby the Frog,. 5 2 i/Milly the Pony, and Carlo the Dog, . . 65 vX!ora the Spaniel,.82 ^Jack the Drake,.* 93 v^Hector the Greyhound, ..... 104 v Bob the Cosset,.117 yTow . the Setter, . ■ .125 SUPPLEMENTARY STORIES. Minnie’s Owl,.. . 140 Nannie’s Lamb .148 ^/Fido the Brave, ...... 157 Cat Tales : ^/Faithful Grimalkin,.165 yO bedient Thomas,.168 ^Katrina and Katinka, .... 173 v vi CONTENTS. v/Ouk. Cousins the Parrots,. l8 5 Rooster Mothers.• 20 3 /The Gallant Bantam,.210 / Other Disowned Chicks,.214 A PREFACE. I hope my little readers will be inter¬ ested in a little story of my early life, before I come to the history of my pets. I was the youngest girl in a family of seven sons and four daughters—all of whom with the exception of myself and my youngest brother, were natives of Lebanon, Con¬ necticut. We two outsiders, Albert and I, were born in New York State, town of Pompey, and the County of Onondaga— which was thus named in honor of the once great tribe of Onondaga Indians. This honor was about all they had to show for their vast hunting grounds and fishing 7 8 A PREFACE. privileges. They went on the war-path no more—they made baskets and tramped about the country, selling them. They were peaceable when they were sober,— they took no scalps, but all the cider they could get. They were said to be civilized, and even christianized, to a cer¬ tain point. They were still honest folks, and made no great professions. Per¬ haps they thought it was best not to be off with the old religion, before they were on with the new,—so kept up some of their old heathen rites and customs. In their own village, called Onondaga Castle, —near the city of Syracuse, they had once a year, a great “ pow-wow,” and sacrificed to the Indian God, Manitou, a dog, pure white, fat and sleek, and decorated with gay wampum and ribbons. They killed and then burned him, with solemn cere¬ monies, wild cries and much queer dancing. A PREFACE. 9 Pompey, though not lovely in its name, was a very beautiful, romantic and lofty spot to be born on. Below us and round about us were such hills as poets and painters love, and pack-horses and pedes¬ trians hate—and O, how cold it was in winter!—what terrific and tearing winds we had, and what mountain ranges of snow-banks ! So, we children were glad enough when our parents concluded to pull up stakes and move to a milder cli¬ mate,—though not far away—only down the hills, to the next town. But our poor father and mother were not so happy in going,—for under the pines, on one of those hills, they left the green graves of two of their dear flock. Our father, a physician, was also a farmer—and he set¬ tled us on a large farm, about half a mile from the pretty village of Fabius. Here were passed what seemed to me 10 A PREFACE. many and very long years—in fact the greater part of my childhood. Here I was a regular country girl—free as a greenwood bird, and almost as wild. At last, we pulled up stakes again—and for several years seemed to do little else than pull up, and drive down stakes, as though we had been a Gipsy family. Once we tried town life, in the city of Rochester. It was a pretty place—but I always longed for the country, though fond of my studies, in the old High School—and of my teachers—some of them. I longed for more room, more freedom, and better accommodation for my pets. At last, I had if not the country, some¬ thing quite as pleasant—a picturesque vil¬ lage, bright with flowers, shaded by grand trees, musical with running water, and hosts of song birds. A PREFACE. II This was New Brighton, Pennsylvania, on the Beaver River—near the Ohio. Here I went with my father and mother, my sister and youngest brother, to a spa¬ cious white cottage, among roses and lilacs and vines—a real “ our house,” no rented sham of a home, this time, and all planned and provided by two of the six noble sons and brothers of the family. Here was our last family-home, and it was a very happy and tranquil one, and to this day, the pretty place is to me very dear and sacred. Well, when my little nephews and nieces—children of the older brothers, visited us here, I used often to be called on to tell them stories of my own childhood, and I found them ready both to laugh and to cry—though after a cry, they must always have a bit of fun, to go to bed on. One frank little fellow once complimented me 12 A PREFACE. by saying—“ I like Aunt Grace best of all my aunts,—’cause she’s so foolish.” Some years after, I tried the same sto¬ ries on a dear family of boys and girls, in Washington, with such success that I went and printed them, and now I reprint them for you, who are—many of you—the children of my first kind little readers. You may not cry as easily as they cried— children are not so childish nowadays— but I do hope you will laugh as heartily. Grace Greenwood. HISTORY OF MY PETS. KETURAH AND LONG TOM¬ CATS. 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 humor with myself, for I had been marked de¬ ficient 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 14 HISTORY OF MY PETS. which I generally ran by in a great hurry, as the woman who lived there had th^ name of being a scold and a sort of a witch. She certainly was a stout, ugly woman, who drank a great deal of cider, and sometimes beat her husband,—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 dread¬ ful 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, carefully covering pussy’s head with my pinafore, lest she should see where I took her, and so know the way back. She was KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS . 15 rather uneasy, and scratched my arms a good deal;—but I did not mind that, I was so entirely happy in my new pet. When I reached home, and my mother looked more annoyed than pleased with the little stranger, and my father and bro¬ thers would take no particular notice 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 16 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 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. 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 thoughc 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. KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 17 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 brothers 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 a year old, and quite a sizable cat, 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 18 HISTORY OF MY PETS. he said. One evening it chanced that nobody was going from our house; but my mother, who saw that I was sadly disappointed, gave me leave to go with a neighboring family, who never missed a meeting of the sort. But when 1 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 had 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 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 KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 19 took her up under my cape, 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 everything the minister said. I tried every way to keep awake, but it was of no use. I finally fell asleep, and slept as soundly as I ever slept in my life. When I awoke at last, I did not know 20 HISTORY OF MY PETS. where I was. All was dark around me, and there was a 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 ! ” O, ’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 minister came, who loved children too well to frighten them, but who chose rather to talk about our good Father in Heaven, and the dear Saviour, KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 21 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 doo;*s; but all were locked fast. Then I sat down and cried more bitterly than ever, but Kitty purred cheer¬ fully 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. 22 HISTORY OF MY PETS. But though I stretched myself up on tip¬ toe, I could not quite reach the sill. Then I went back by the pulpit and got the big Bible, which I placed on the floor edge¬ ways 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 splendid book too, but I could not help it. I put Kitty out first, and then swung myself down. It rained a little, and was so dark 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 whole house ; for, when the danger and trouble were over, I cried the loudest with fright and cold. My mother had supposed that Deacon Wilson’s family had kept me for KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 23 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 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 awoke 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 father, 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 ill 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 24 HISTORY OF MY PETS. the room but a few minutes during the day, and mewed pitiously when they put her in her little house at night. My friends said that it was really very affect¬ ing 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 remember how the good creature frolicked about me the first time I was placed in an armchair, and wheeled out into the dining-room to take breakfast with the family : and when, about a week later, my brother Charles took me in his strong arms and carried me 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 currant-bushes, in a most * cunning and startling manner. I remembered now how strange the gar¬ den looked—how changed from what I KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 25 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, reading Mrs. Sherwood’s sweet story of “Little Henry and His Bearer.” I remember how I cried over it, grieving for poor Henry and his dear teacher. Ah, I little thought how soon my tears must flow for myself and my Kitty. It was then that my sister came to me, looking sadly trou¬ bled, to tell me the news. A certain mis¬ chievous boy then staying with us had been amusing himself by dropping Kitty from a high window and seeing her turn somersets in the air, and alight on her feet 2 6 HISTORY OF MY PETS. unhurt. But at last, becoming tired or dizzy, 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 gently, carried into the house, and laid on a soft cushion. Then my father carefully ex¬ amined her hurt. He 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 might be allowed to live till the next day. I did not eat much supper that night, or break¬ fast in the morning, but grieved inces¬ santly 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 KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS 2? 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 question was, how was this to be done. “ Cut her head off with the axe,” said my brother Charles, trying to look very manly and stern, with his lip quivering all the while. But my brother William, who had just been read¬ ing a History of the French Revolution, and how they took off the heads of the people with a machine called the guillo¬ tine, suggested that the straw-cutter in the barn would do the work as well as the axe, and not be so painful for the executioner. This was agreed to by all present. 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 28 HISTORY OF MY PETS. myself up in a dark closet, and stopped 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 candle box, ready for bu¬ rial. For a pall we used a black silk apron. They had bound Kitty’s head on very cleverly with bandages and washed all the blood off from her white breast. Clover blossoms were scattered over her, and a green sprig of catnip was placed between her paws. My youngest brother, Albert, drew her on his little wagon to the grave, which was dug under a large elm tree in a corner of the yard. The next day I planted over her a shrub called the “ pussy willow.” After that I had many pet kittens, but none that ever quite filled the place of poor Keturah. Yet there was one who, though not so lovely or noble as she, has' KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 2g managed to make himself remembered through all these years. This was a certain sleek, slender, but powerful, brindled cat, who, when full-grown, became known in all the country round as “ Long Tom.” He was exceedingly active, cunning, and mischievous ; a great climber, a mighty hunter of mice, and, I regret to say, of birds, and too much given to vagabondiz¬ ing and lawlessness. He respected nei¬ ther our persons nor our property. He would crowd himself into our father’s best hat and go to sleep there, and would mount up on mother’s work-table and play the mischief with all her spools and balls of yarn. And he would steal—oh, how he would steal! Once it was discov¬ ered that he was opening the pantry door at night by jumping up and pressing his paw on the old-fashioned latch ; this done, he would enter and help himself to cold 30 HISTORY OF MY PETS. chicken—the breast, if you please ! and fresh cream. By the way, just under this pantry window lived a queer old pet, or rather pensioner, of my mother—a toad, quite tame, but even uglier than toads usually are, for he had in some way lost one eye. Yet having a commodious hole, and being fed daily with crumbs from the pantry, he would always have been happy but for Long Tom. That clever, bad cat had discovered that the poor creature could see only with one eye, and he used to steal softly up on the blind side and pounce on him ; appearing to enjoy ever so much poor Toady’s fright and sur¬ prise, as he frantically hopped into his hole. We finally succeeded in breaking Tom of this cruel trick, and the queer pensioner was left in peace, like a hermit in his cave, only coming out at my mother’s call for his rations, or to enjoy a KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS. 31 little evening hop, or to sit on a cool stone, meditating and winking with his one eye at the moon. Long Tom dearly loved to surprise folks and animals. He knew—how I can’t tell—the hour when we children would be coming home from school across the fields, and he would go and hide behind some bush on our way, and leap out before us in a most terrifying manner. He delighted in climbing trees under which cows were reposing, or dogs taking an afternoon nap, and suddenly dropping down on them with a wild “Yow!” and a tail of alarming size. Once he got off a surprise which pleased us all. A big, quarrelsome dog belong¬ ing to one of our neighbors came swag¬ gering along one day, and attacked our peaceable pet spaniel. Long Tom, who was a friend of this little spaniel, was 32 HISTORY OF MY PETS. asleep in mother’s distracted work-basket, when the growling and yelping began. He woke full of fire and pluck, leaped through an open window over a high picket fence, and landed on the back of the cur, clawing and biting him, and frightening him awfully. The spaniel was saved, and barked bravely after her enemy, fast re¬ treating down the road, with Tom riding and still punishing him. When we moved from the farm we gave this cat to a good neighbor. I was very sorry to part with him, but I did not worry much about him. I knew he could take care of himself. If people failed to treat him kindly, he was just the fellow to turn gipsy or bandit—take to the woods and live on game. In the winter he would be sure to make himself at home in some farmer’s comfortable and mousey barn, un- KETURAH AND LONG TOM-CATS . 33 til invited into the house, as such a comely cat was pretty sure to be. I still have a great partiality for the feline race, and respect the ancient Egyp¬ tians for their exalted ideas in regard to cats. They even considered them sacred animals, to be honored and cared for in life, and mourned and mummied in death. I do not go as far as that, but I think them, or some of them, very dear and interesting creatures, too often misunderstood and mal¬ treated. As for kittens, they are simply bewitching. I like nothing better than to sit quietly on a summer afternoon, or a winter evening, and watch their graceful gambols and mischievous frolic. I know it is not very improving to the mind, but I am not ashamed of the weakness. 34 HISTORY OF MY PETS. SAM THE ROOSTER. The next pet which I remember to have had was a handsome little rooster, as gay and gallant a fellow as ever scratched 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 father found him, and brought him to me. I took and put him in a basket of wool, where I kept him most of the time, for a week or two, feeding him regularly and taking excellent care of him. He grew and thrived, and finally became a great house-pet and favorite. My father was especially amused by him, but my mother, I am sorry to say, always considered him SAM THE ROOSTER. 35 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 loat of bread, when it was set down before the fire to raise, and stalking over the kitchen table on baking days. I don’t suppose that the print of his feet made the prettiest sort of a stamp for cookies and pastry. Sam was intelligent, very. I think I never saw a fowl turn up his eye with such a cunning expression after a piece of mis¬ chief. He showed such a real affection for me, that I grew excessively fond of him. But ah, I was more fond than wise ? Un¬ der 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 bas¬ ket of wool, I used to stow him away very 36 HISTORY OF MY PETS. snugly in a leg of an old pair of trousers— I had found in the garret, and lay him in a warm place under 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 daylight till two or three hours after all the other cocks in the neighbor¬ hood 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 trousers. But 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 SAM THE ROOSTER. 37 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 he had but one leg! Alas, he had no head at all ! My poor Sam had been murdered and partly devoured by a cruel rat some time in the night ! I took the mangled body into the house, 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 Sam be buried out of my sight. They 33 HISTORY OF MY PETS. 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, u Hie ja- cet Samuelus ,”—which mean, Here lies Sam,—and placed it above where the 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. My poor rooster, who never roosted! 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 SAM THE ROOSTER. SAM THE ROOSTER. 39 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 Since that day of tears and sighing, When I found thee dead, without a head, In the gory trousers lying. “ As thy foe did rob thee of a leg In his hunger and despite, 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 brave as thine. “ O, 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!” 40 HISTORY OF MY PETS. TOBY THE HAWK. 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 name. I resolved that I would bring him up in the way he should go, so that when he v 7 as 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. 1 let him learn to roost, but I tried to bring him up on vegetable diet. I found, however, TOBY THE HAWK. 41 that this would not do. He would eat bread and grain to be sure, but he did not thrive; lie 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 vege¬ tarian, out of the poor fellow, and one morning treated him to a slice of raw mut¬ ton. 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 de¬ voured. 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 42 HISTORY OF MY PETS. might take a fancy to cut off the nead of my pet to save his board-bill, a bright thought came into my mind. There was running through our farm, at a short dis¬ tance 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 Frenchmen, 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 polite to keep your eye on people when they are eating, and then I couldn’t TOBY THE HAWK 43 help pitying 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 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 be¬ cause 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 on to his place with his long, sharp claws. Sometimes I would come home with my apron torn and blood-stained on the 44 HISTORY OF MY PETS. shoulder, and then my mother 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 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 bird 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. .1 said that Toby was rough, but honest; that it was true he did not make a display of his talents TOBY THE HAWK. 45 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 him perch on my arm till it was quite late. Some of the neighbors 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 anyone. Now it happened that one of my younger brothers, beeame after a se- 46 HISTORY OF MY PETS. vere illness, a somnambulist,—that means one who walks in sleep. When about thirteen or fourteen years of age, he would often rise in the middle of the night, dress, if no one was awake to prevent it, steal out of the house and ramble about in fields and woods—always returning safe, and still in a sound sleep. 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 bedsides like a ghost. Pleasant—wasn’t it ? 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 tt" rag ra —--jy # •»§ TOBY THE HAWK, 1 . i fl ! HI I i 1 TOBY THE HAWK. 4 7 care. Well, that night there was suddenly a violent outcry set up in the entry. It was Toby, who shrieked and flapped 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 the chamber of the young “ Sleep-walker” 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. Sud¬ denly they heard the saw-mill, which stood near, going. They knew that the owner never worked there at night, and supposed that it must be my brother, who had set the machinery in motion. So down they 48 HISTORY OF MV PETS. 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. 