Little Women

It is our painful duty to record the sudden and mysterious disappearance of our cherished friend, Mrs. Snowball Pat Paw. This lovely and beloved cat was the pet of a large circle of warm and admiring friends; for her beauty attracted all eyes, her graces and virtues endeared her to all hearts, and her loss is deeply felt by the whole community. When last seen, she was sitting at the gate, watching the butcher’s cart, and it is feared that some villain, tempted by her charms, basely stole her. Weeks have passed, but no trace of her has been discovered, and we relinquish all hope, tie a black ribbon to her basket, set aside her dish, and weep for her as one lost to us forever.

A sympathizing friend sends the following gem:

A LAMENT FOR S. B. PAT PAW

We mourn the loss of our little pet, And sigh o’er her hapless fate, For never more by the fire she’ll sit, Nor play by the old green gate.

The little grave where her infant sleeps Is ’neath the chestnut tree. But o’er _her_ grave we may not weep, We know not where it may be.

Her empty bed, her idle ball, Will never see her more; No gentle tap, no loving purr Is heard at the parlor door.

Another cat comes after her mice, A cat with a dirty face, But she does not hunt as our darling did, Nor play with her airy grace.

Her stealthy paws tread the very hall Where Snowball used to play, But she only spits at the dogs our pet So gallantly drove away.

She is useful and mild, and does her best, But she is not fair to see, And we cannot give her your place dear, Nor worship her as we worship thee.

A.S.