The true Democrat., 1855-11-06
Eddy Maloney's Cat.

Matthew Malouey better known by the boys at the mill as Father Mat" on returning from work one evening, was met at the gate by Bid dy, hlS better half, ill high state of excite ment.
 Mat" says she, there's strange cat in the cabin" sa
 Cast her out thin, an don't be botherin' me about the baste.'
 " Faix an' Fve been sthrivin' to do that same for the matter of tin minits past, but she's list beyant my rache behint the big rid chst in the corner Will yez be after helpin me to dhriye her out Mat?'
 To be sure I will, bad luck to the consate she has for me house; show her to me, Biddv, till l teach her the rispict that's due man in his own housc-to be takin possession widout as much as by yer lave, the thafe O the world."
 Now Mat had a special antipathy for cats, ana never let pass an opportunity to kill one. This he resolved to do in the present case, and instantly formed plan for the purpose Per- celVns but one mode of egress for the animal, he says to Biddy-
 "Have yez iver male bag in the house me darant?"
 "Divil wan is there Mat Yez tux it to the mill wid yez to bring home chips wid this morning.
 "Faix, an did, and there it is yit, thin. Well have yez nothing at all in the house that will tie up like a bag, Bddy?'
 Troth and have Mat; ther's me Sunday pitticoat-ye can dhraw the strings close at the top an sure 1t will do betther nor ettin' the cat be lavin' yez"
 Blddy darllnt, yez a jewel to be thinkn' O that same; be after bringing it to me-"
 Blddy brought the garment, and when the strings were drawn close 1t made very good substitute for the meal bag, and Mat declared it was "llegant"
 So holding it close against the edge of the chest he took look behind and saw a pair of bright eyes garing at him.
 :" An is it there ye are, ye devil? Be out O. that now; bad luck to all yer kin, ye thavin' bagabone ye. Bedad, an ye won't lave me house at all wid perlite axin'? Yer self-will bates pigs intrely. Bddy have yez any hot wather in the house ?"
 "Yis I've plinty, Mat; the tay kettles full uv it."
 "Be afther castin' the matther of quart thin behint the chist till say how the shay divil likes it."
 " Hould i'm close, Mat; here goes the wa ther."
 Dash went the water and out jumped the animal into Mats trap.
 "Arrah, be the howly poker I have i'm in Biddy," says Pat, drawing close the eolds of the garment; "now bad cess to yez, ye thafe it's nine lives ye have is it? Be aither axn' me forgiveness for the thavin' ye have been do- in in me house. for Pm thinkin' the nine lives ye have won't save ye now any way. Biddy sage hoult of the poker an whin I'll shoulder the haythen yell beat the daylghts out of | 'im"
 | Mat threw the bundle over his shoulder and told Biddy to play "St. Patrck's day in the morning" on it. Biddy struck about three notes of that popular Irish air, and suddenly stopped eXclaiming-
 "What smills so quare, Mat? It's takin' me birth away with the power uv it. Och, murther, Mat, shure an''y ye have the divil in the sack.'' I
 Bate the ould haythen, thin; yez Fl niver have a better chance. Bate the horns off i'm; father i'm like blazes, me darlint!''
 "Augh," says Biddy, "Pm faintin' wid the power uv i'm. Cast i'm off yez, Mat"
 Howly St. Pather!" says Mat, throwing down the sack. "Biddy, the haste is a pole cat! Lave the house, oryez i'll be kilt intire- ly. Murther an turf, how the haythen smlls! Och!, Biddy Maloney, purity kettle uv fish yez made uv it, to be shure, to be mistaking that little divil for harmless cat''
 "Mat for the love of God, if yez be con- vanient to the door, be afther opening it. for Pm narely checked wid i'm. Och Biddy Ma loney, bad luck to yez for laying ould Ireland, to be murthered in this way Howly Mary purtect me! Mat, Pm clane kilt intirely; take me out of this!'
 Mat drew her out of doors, and then broke for the rump like quarter horse, closely fol- lowed bp Biddy. z
 q Shure that little william bates the divil in- tirely; he's ruined me house an kilt Biddy, an put me out O consate wid meself for a month to come. Och the desaivin vagabone. bad luck to 'im," and Mat plunged his head into the horse-trough up to his shoulders.
 Get out O. that Mat, I'm narely blind," and Biddy went under water. "Och, the murtherin' baste," says Bddy, sputtering the water ont of her mouth, 'me best petticoat is spoilt intirely