To impress on his mind the advice sent by you,
He would turn on his tail and say nothing but Mew!
With our mother's tail now not contented to play,
He finds new amusement for every day.
Sometimes on the rug, when she's taking a nap,
He comes softly, and on her nose gives her a tap,
Or jumps over her back, or else twitches her ear;
With other tricks too, by the dozen as queer.
Your letter arrived on the night of last Sunday,
But my brother was ignorant of it until Monday,
For I thought if he knew he had so far to roam
From his mother, his friends, and his dear little home,
He would spend all the night long in sighing and
weeping,
And the depth of his sorrow would keep him from sleeping.
Thinking this, my dear friend, you may judge my
When I saw not one tear trickle down from his eyes,
And far from appearing to feel any sorrow,
He said, "I'll be ready to set off to-morrow."
He's a cat of some pride, as he said, "for my part
I think it beneath me to go in a cart.
For a kitten like me, I declare by my tail, 'Twould be much the genteelest to travel by mail." Adieu, my dear brother, I'm hurried for time,
And I really am tired with this scribbling in rhyme. Once more then, adieu, and with love from my mother, Believe me, your very affectionate brother,
My dear little brother, I'm told you've consented
To desert the dear home, you so long have frequented;
The kittens with whom you've so playfully gambolled,
The walks around which you so often have rambled,
Our mother, whose tail in its flirting and whisking
Has afforded such treats to your frolics and frisking.
All, all are resigned, not a mew has been heard,
To tell of the pangs which no doubt have occurred,
When you've thought of the scenes you're so soon to
Oh, thou'rt truly surnamed a magnanimous kitten! From thy soft furry breast never heaving a sigh, Not a tear-drop bedimming thy keen glancing eye.
Who ever could dream that such virtue as that
Could be found in the breast of a Leicestershire cat? Without hesitation I bid you nought fear,
In this house you will always find plentiful cheer, For your food I can promise you all that is nice, Dishes made of the brains and the tails of young mice, Most capital eating, I hear you declare,
And better by far than a partridge or hare.
The mice run in numbers by scores and by dozens, Sires, grandsires, and children, and a host of young cousins.
In the parlor they're bold, in the pantry they're bolder,
In the bedrooms they terrify every beholder;
Cheese, butter, meat, bread, aye and also the brawn,
Their teeth make no mumbling at even the horn;
In the pantry they've eaten the fine-flavored cheese,
In the garden devoured all the choice early peas;
And though nightly are set, trap, and pit-fall and gin,
Not a mouse condescends to entrap himself in;
So come eat and drink, and live happy and merry,
Is the last line that's penned, by
FROM TABBY TO HER SON FRISK.
Alas! my dear son, how it grieves me to find
That with you it is true, "out of sight out of mind;'
Can a mother believe 'tis a fortnight or more
Since you left your loved home other scenes to ex-
That a fortnight has passed since from Leicester you
And yet not one line of remembrance have sent!
Has absence then dulled all your kind recollections
Of home and of childhood, of hopes and affections:
Can it be that your heart is less warm or less true
Than when you first uttered your infantine mew?
How little I thought when I gazed on your face,
When I pressed you, dear Frisk, in my parting em-
brace,
When with fondest affection I gave my last kiss,
I should have to complain of neglect such as this!
Have you no recollection, dear Kit, of your mother,
No kindly affection for Tommy, your brother;
Unlike you, he and I talk about you all day,
And laugh when we think of the tricks you would play.
You forget your poor mother, grown gray and
For the new friends and playmates you've met with
One duty, however, I've got to pursue,
And then, my dear son, I must bid you adieu;
One word of advice, tho' the tear dims my eye,
I shall venture to give to my son ere I die;—
I am told in your master you've found a kind friend,
Yet remember that much on yourself must depend;
Show a proper decorum in all that you do,
And never at reading or prayers give a mew;
Never leap on the chairs, never dirty the house,
Even though it should be in pursuit of a mouse.
If kicked or if pushed on the rug as you lie,
Never put out your claws or your betters defy;
Give a soft gentle purr, give your whiskers a lick,
To show that no anger you bear for the kick.
You well may imagine, my dear little son,
I am anxious to hear of the deeds you have done,
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