His face was white , with black hair parted in the middle ; and whiskers , fiercely curled up at the end , gave him a martial look . Every one admired him , and a vainer puss never caught a mouse . If he saw us looking at him , he instantly took an attitude ; gazed pensively at the fire , as if unconscious of our praises ; crouched like a tiger about to spring , and glared , and beat the floor with his tail ; or lay luxuriously outstretched , rolling up his yellow eyes with a sentimental expression that was very funny . We named him the Czar , and no tyrannical emperor of Russia ever carried greater desolation and terror to the souls of his serfs , than this royal cat did to the hearts and homes of the rats and mice over whom he ruled . The dear little mice who used to come out to play so confidingly in my room , live in my best bonnet-box , and bring up their interesting young families in the storeroom , now fell an easy prey to the Czar , who made nothing of catching half a dozen a day . Brazen-faced old rats , gray in sin , who used to walk boldly in and out of the front door , ravage our closets , and racket about the walls by night , now paused in their revels , and felt that their day was over . Czar did not know what fear was , and flew at the biggest , fiercest rat that dared to show his long tail on the premises . He fought many a gallant fight , and slew his thousands , always bringing his dead foe to display him to us , and receive our thanks . It was sometimes rather startling to find a large rat reposing in the middle of your parlor ; not always agreeable to have an excited cat bounce into your lap , lugging a half-dead rat in his mouth ; or to have visitors received by the Czar , tossing a mouse on the door-steps , like a playful child with its cup and ball . He was not fond of petting , but allowed one or two honored beings to cuddle him . My work-basket was his favorite bed , for a certain fat cushion suited him for a pillow , and , having coolly pulled out all the pins , the rascal would lay his handsome head on the red mound , and wink at me with an irresistibly saucy expression that made it impossible to scold . All summer we enjoyed his pranks and admired his manly virtues ; but in the winter we lost him , for , alas ! he found his victor in the end , and fell a victim to his own rash daring . One morning after a heavy snow-fall , Czar went out to take a turn up and down the path . As he sat with his back to the gate , meditatively watching some doves on the shed-roof , a big bull-dog entered the yard , and basely attacked him in the rear . Taken by surprise , the dear fellow did his best , and hit out bravely , till he was dragged into the deep snow where he could not fight , and there so cruelly maltreated that he would have been murdered outright , if I had not gone to the rescue . Catching up a broom , I belabored the dog so energetically that he was forced to turn from the poor Czar to me . What would have become of me I do n't know , for the dog was in a rage , and evidently meditating a grab at my ankles , when his master appeared and ordered him off . Never was a boy better scolded than that one , for I poured forth vials of wrath upon his head as I took up my bleeding pet , and pointed to his wounds as indignantly as Antony did to Cæsar 's . The boy fled affrighted , and I bore my poor Czar in to die .
All XXXXX he lay on his cushion , patient and quiet , with his torn neck tied up in a soft bandage , a saucer of cream close by , and an afflicted mistress to tend and stroke him with tender lamentations .
Antony Cæsar Russia bonnet-box day fire morning murdered slew snow-fall