Wyandot County Republican. [volume] (Upper Sandusky, Ohio) 1869-1903, 1872-04-18
THE CATS FUNERAL.

There was nothing remarkable about
Tom Pinch. He was only large, good
natured old cat; but somehow he had
found his way to the hearts of the whole
family, as only a cat can, and everybody
humored his whims and moods as a mat
ter of course.
Grandma was kind to everybody and
everything, and always had room in her
lap for Tom Pinch when he chose to lie
there instead of on the rug. Mamma al
ways felt qualm of conscience when she
rocked on Toms tail, and Aunt Prue, who
was busy woman, would lay down her
pen at any time to let Tom out of the
room when he told her he wanted to go
out, or let him in when he came and told
her he wanted to come in. Even the
cook, old Aunt Nancy, who despised cats,
had kind side for Tom, and petted him
when nobody was looking. If, then, he
could even make his way with such a
vengeful foe to his tribe as old Aunt
Nancy, how he must have been beloved
by the children, and most of all by her
whose own cat he was-his little mistress,
Florence. Richard and Emma and Betty,
all together, did not love Tom Pinch as
Florence did, and Tom Pinch knew it.
Late one summer afternoon Richard
rushed into the sittingroom where his
sisters were, telling tale of woe. Tom
Pinch is out there in the yard dead A
cart has run over him, or some boys have
stoned him, and you'd hardly know him,
he looks so dreadful ~
Then there was commotion. Florence
cried outright, Emma sobbed to herself,
and Betty hid her face in her apron. Even
Richard, boy as he was, brushed his eye
with his coat-sleeve. At last Florence
cried, "Where is he, Dick Let me see
him." and Richard led the way, followed
by the train of weeping sisters.
1t was shocking, indeedl There, sure
enough, lay poor Tom Pinch, stark dead,
just like any ordinary cat, with his brains
knocked out 1t was heartrendingl AT
sight of him the children set up such a
howl as was distressing to hear, and Flor
ence broke forth into lamentations: ''How
could boys be so badl Oh, my poor,
poor Tom Pinchl Boys are the meanest
thingsl Oh, let's have funeral ~
swell, WELL" cried all the others, and
| quickly dried their tears.
''Dick, run getus that nice box of yours.
It's just the thing; and Betty, won't you
run in and bring your dolls new night
gowns" said Florence.
Betty went, yet hardly liking the turn
things had taken, and brought the gown,
and saw it safe on the cat before she could
consent to the sacrifice.
"Now, where shall we bury him?"
asked the little undertaken.
"Wouldn't under the althea be a good
placer" suggested Emma
"Just the spot Just the spot he would
have chosen-in the sunshine, and so
| quiet" said Florence.
| When they had their little pet shrouded
and coffined, they bore him to his last
resting place under the althea bush,
where they scooped out a grave and
buried him with some genuine tears and
great show of grief-the tears, because
they could not help crying, and the mock
cry, because they were ashamed of cry
ing.
When they had shaped the grave-for
they all wanted to be sextons-they stuck
up some sticks to mark the head and foot
and slowly returned to the house, at a loss
what to do next
"Pm going to make a tombstone y
said Richard, taking out his jack-knife.
"How can you whittle stone with 8
knife, Dick ?" asked Emma.
"Fve seen plenty of tombstones made
out of wood; haven't you, Florence p
retorted Dick.
"Of course" said Florence. "But we
must have something on it, then. Let's
all write an epitaph on Poor Tom Pinchi'
"WeIl, oh, well ~ they all agreed.
"And then we will get mamma to de
eide which is best" added Florence.
"Oh, / thought you meant all write one
together" exclaimed Emma.
"No, no; we should never do anything
at that" said Florence. "Now let's sit
down and think by ourselves, and out OF
our four heads we ought to get something
worthy of Tom"
az don't think l can write what 1 think
and / can't think of anything but My
bird is dead, said Nancy Ray" said little
Betty.
That's just the thing, Betty; write &
parody" said Florence.
"a parody What is a parody i
sounds as if it would be harder than al
epitaph," said Betty.
why, no just say cat instead o
bird that's ALL" said Florence.
"My cat is dead, said Nancy Ray ?
said little Betty, and they all laughed.
"You must change it all the way
through to suit, Betty. The cat was no
Nancy Rays. Do you see -
"Yes, believe S." said Betty.
"Now, let's all think 90 said Florence
beginning to nibble at her pencil
The ladies looked over at the thought
full group occasionally, and wondered
what kept them so still.
At last Betty, with a sigh, exclaimed
''This is the best could parody:
My cat is dead, said Florence to-day;
Ny cat Is dead, cannot play;
Go put his corpse far, far away:
My cat is dead, cannot play"
This was greeted with such shouts ol
laughter that the grown folks looked uT
in wonder.
'Now, Dick, you," said Florence.
az could not think of any poetry" SAID
Richard; Besides, you all had the rhym
ing dictionary all the time, and prose il
more dignified, and more apt to be true
|. "Why, Dick, what could be truer thar
Betty's poetry? Alas, too truer' saiC
Florence, laughing.
"Well," said Richard, ''here it is: De
parted this life, May 18th, Thomas Pinch
ut the hands of some bad boys. He wa
a good cat, and well-beloved."
This epitaph seemed to be quite as fun
ny as the other, and they all laughed
again.
, "What is the matter, children" asked
, their mother
, "They are laughing at ne, motherp
said Dick. eve will tell you all about
it, soon. Now, En-, let's hear yours"
Emma said:
Our precious, Petted honored cat;
We did not think TO grieye .or thee;
Thou never more wilt catch a rat,
For where thOu'r gone no r-ts viii be.
And thou art now STARK dead cat.
What rat do you think afraid would be,
Now that thou canst not smell rat,
Il It's plain n rat can now smell thee"
"WeIl, En-, did not think you woul(
, treat poor Tom So" said Flei ence.
"And now, Florence's," they all cry