American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1872-04-20
THE CATS FUNERAL.

found his way to the hearts of the whole
family, as only cat can, and everybody
humored his whims and moods rs Il 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 a 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, indeed! 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: GLOW
could boys be so bad! Oh, my poor,
poor Tom Pinch! Boys are the meanest
thingsi Oh, let's have a funeral ~
"Well, well, cried all the others, and
quickly dried their tears.
"Dick, run get us that nice box of yours.
It's just the thing; and Betty, won't you
run in and bring your dolls new night
gown?'' 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 good
place." 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 grave and
buried him with some genuine tears and
a great show of grie-the tears, because
they could not help crying, and the mock
cry, because they were ashamed of cry
ing gy,on ,,o,, had ,,.no, tho rr,,o 60,
how oil tod to ha cnyfn fhnx ctr nl-
up some sticks to mark the head and foot,
and slowly returned to the house, at Il loss
what to do next.
I'm going to make a tombstone ~
said Richard, taking out his iack-knife.
"How can you white stone with a
knife, Dick ?" asked Emma.
I've seen plenty of tombstones made
out of wood; haven't you, Florence ?"
retorted Dick.
"Of course" said Florence. But we
must have something on it, then; Let's
all write an epitaph on Poor Tom Pinch!'
"Well, oh, well !" they all agreed.
"And then we will get mamma to de-
eide which is best" added Florence.
"Oh, l thought you meant all write one
together" exclaimed Emma.
NO no; we should never do anyt hing
at that" said Florence. "Now lets sit
down and think by ourselves, and out of
our four heads we ought to get something
worthy of Tom"
81 don't think can write what think,
and l 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? 1t
sounds as if it would be harder than an
epitaph," said Betty.
'-Why, no Just say cat instead of
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 not
Nancy Rays. Do you see ~
Yes, believe So" said Betty.
Now, let's all think ~ said Florence,
beginning to nibblc 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 l could parody:
a. My cat is dead, said Florence to-day;
My cat is dead, cannot play;
Go put his corpse far. far away;
My cat is dead, cannot play
This was greeted with such shouts of
laughter that the grown folks looked up |
in wonder.
"Now, Dick, you," said Florence.
81 could not think of any poetry said |
Richard; Besides, you all had the rhym- /
ing dictionary all the time, and prose is /
more dignitied, and more apt to be true"
"Why, Dick, what could be truer than |
Betty's poetry. Alas, too true." said |
Florence, laughing.
"Wcll," said Richard, 'here it is: De
parted this life, May 18th, Thomas Pinch,
at the hands of some bad boys. He was
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 me, motherr'
said Dick 1--WE will tell you all about
it, soon. Now, En-, let's hear yours"
Emma said:
Our precious, pettcd honored cat.
We did not think to greve for thee;
Thou more wilt catch rat,
For where thou'rt gone no rats will he.
And thou art now STARK dead cat,
What rat do You think afraid would he,
Now that thou can'st not smell rat.
It's plain rat can now smell thee
"Well, EN-, | did not think YOU would
treat poor Tom So" said Florence.
And now, Florence's,' they all cry,