Part 2

As soon as a little tot in lisping accents can pronounce words sufficiently well to form sentences, it often becomes a proud mother’s ambition to teach her nursery rhymes; and baby is called on to surprise her fond papa, or maybe her doting grandparents, with a display of her wonderful elocutionary talent. But when the darling entertains a number of her mama’s dearest friends in the drawing-room, or, better still, when she makes her début at the Sunday-school social, and receives plaudits for her little recitation delivered in bird-like tones, it is then that the mother’s heart reaches its zenith of happiness. “Tootsy Wootsy” has been arranged and posed especially for children from three to six years of age.

POINTS.—Before the child recites, place a small stool or chair a little to right of center of platform. On left side there should be a small table or stand; a little way from this, lying on floor with cover off, should be kitten’s basket with a tiny nursing-bottle filled with milk. Care should be taken not to have these articles arranged in set manner, but rather with play-room or nursery effect. The younger the kitten, the easier handled by a child.

LESSON-TALK ON “TOOTSY WOOTSY.”

_“See, Tootsy Wootsy he’s m’ tat, An’ her as tunnin’ as tan be.”_

PICTURE I.—Advance on platform carrying pet kitten in arms in regular childish fashion; pause, throw weight of body evenly upon both feet; face expressing joy and pride; and in pleasing tones explain who “Tootsy Wootsy” is and how “tunnin’.”

_“She am ner bigger den m’ han’, An’s dot der bites’ eyes oo’ see.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Smile, hold kitten out in front of you for admiration of audience; seat yourself on floor, wind one arm and hand around kitten, while holding up other arm with fingers of hand extended, as though to illustrate what you think is correct size of her tail; facial expression brightens as head is slightly bowed, when gazing at beauty of kitten’s eyes.

_“All fluffy wuffy be’s her toat, An’ say, her face, it’s orsel wise.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Still seated, run one hand over and through kitten’s fur; hold kitten up a little and rub your cheek against its soft body; glancing alternately at kitten, then at her friends. Words requiring emphasis are “fluffy,” “wuffy,” “toat” and “it’s orsel wise.”

_“I spec’s some day ’at she’ll dit Der firstes’, bestes’ tind oo’ prize.”_

PICTURE II.—Still seated, hug kitten closely to breast, and show by look that you have no doubt of kitten’s receiving “firstes’, bestes’ tind oo’ prize.” Words that are emphatic are “some day,” “she,” and the entire second line.

_“She puts her ’ittle velvet paws Wite up ter me ser dem I’ll shake.”_

PICTURE III.—Put right arm around kitten; both hands clasp kitten’s paws; while you glance up obliquely with earnest tone and recite the lines. Special emphasis on “wite up ter me” as though it were something unusual for a kitten to do such a thing.

_“An’ ef she be’s fas’ ersleep, I nezzer ties fer her ter wake.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Serious tone and expression of face and eyes; prolong “des fas’ ersleep;” accompany “I nezzer ties” with movement of head from right to left to make more emphatic.

_“I ’dopt her fer m’ ownes’ tat, An’ dot fer her der nices’ house.”_

PICTURE IV.—Rise, advance to where basket is lying; place kitten in it; put basket with contents on stand; bow head, resting it lightly on kitten; hands clasp sides of basket; face expressing happiness.

_“Where she do stay w’en nite am tum Ser still an’ twiet as er mouse.”_

PICTURE V.—Place cover of basket over kitten, leaving head exposed to view; then sit in chair, feet crossed, and hold kitten in basket, for audience to gaze at. Show dignified tone and manner when reciting; tone softens and voice grows lighter on “still an’ twiet as er mouse.”

_“She ain’t ner tommon tind o’ tat, She am Andora, yes she be.”_

PICTURE VI.—Remove cover from basket, which still contains kitten; place cover to one side. Clasp with left hand kitten’s collar in the back. Cling with right hand to edge of stand, feet in natural childish position; body slightly inclined in sort of protecting manner over loved treasure, and with look and tone of disdain and strongest emphasis say that your kitten “ain’t ner tommon tind o’ tat;” give its breed, laying special stress on “Andora,” and “yes, she be;” decided nod of head in affirmative on last three words.

_“An’ w’en I smooth her back an’ tail, Her winks, an’ purrs, an’ p’ays wiv me.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Continue dignified tone through first line; expression softens on second line; suggestion of smile. Emphasize “winks,” “purrs,” “p’ays wiv me.”

_“An’ nen I buy (now doan yo’ laff) Er sing ner uzzer titten’s dot.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Take kitten from basket; resume your seat in chair; face should glow with pride and pleasure when thinking what you have for your kitten; for a moment the thought comes that when your friends learn what it is, they will make sport of you. With pathetic face beg them not to “laff.” Again assuming bright facial expression and giving marked stress to the words, assure them that it is—“Er sing ner uzzer titten’s dot,” and describe it as

_“Er nussin’-bottle, wiv er mouf F’um w’ich she dinks her milk w’en hot.”_

PICTURE VII.—Bend forward, clasp kitten with left hand, and proceed to give kitten milk from bottle that you take from basket.

_“Oh! she do be ser very nice, I hopes she nezzer wuns erway.”_

PICTURE VIII.—Rise, place cat in basket on stand, keep side of your body toward audience; continue to offer kitten milk as you recite the lines. Emphasize “very nice,” “nezzer,” and “wuns erway.”

_“Fer ef she do, I tannot tell W’at I ’oud do, or sink, or say.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Your fear of losing kitten should be expressed very vividly. Place nursing-bottle in basket. Lovingly take kitten out of basket. Put right hand to your eye as if to check a tear; left arm and hand encircle kitten; general appearance of childish sorrow.

_“May be, I mite dess tazy dit, Ef f’um m’ titten I did part;”_

PICTURE IX.—In your great fondness for the kitten, you fear that you may lose it after all. Sit in chair, place cat on stand, holding its collar tightly with left hand. To illustrate still more clearly how you would mourn, should such a catastrophe befall you, when reciting how she “mite tazy dit,” place right hand on your face and give deep sigh and expression of intense suffering.

_“So, Tootsy, darlin’! Oo’ stay here, Fer ef yer don’, yo’ bwake m’ heart.”_

DESCRIPTIVE POSE.—Take kitten, hug it closely, and in above lines beg it not to leave you. Strong emphasis on “yo’ bwake mi’ heart.” Then, carrying kitten under right arm, and basket containing nursing-bottle in left hand, smile sadly to audience and leave platform.

HOMELIEST CAT AT THE SHOW.

ROSALIE M. JONES.

“Hi! Hit her again! She’s ugly enough to stop a clock.”

“You let her ’lone,” screamed a small voice from the top story of a towering rear tenement, but alas, it fell far short of the depths, way, way, below where the cruel boys were tormenting the poor kitty.

Then the active little figure belonging to the voice hurriedly left the window above and racing down stairs, three steps at a jump, burst violently into their midst, caught their trembling little victim to her breast, and with no weapons but a flushed face and two big tearful eyes, turned defiantly to brave the cowards.

“Say, fellers, catch on ter de young defender.”

“Yer wanter send her ter de cat show, see. She’ll git a prize, I don’t tink.”

With a look of contempt which stung even the most hardened of them, Maysie turned away with her suffering burden and re-entered the house.

“For goodness sake! What’s that you’ve got now?” asked a tired looking woman, as she saw her small daughter come panting into the kitchen, clutching something by the legs.

“Jus’ a kitty.”

“Well, I never did! Why, Marg’ret Williams, are you crazy? I never saw such a homely creature in all my born days: it’ll bring us bad luck, sure, with that wicked green eye and that mean yeller one—ugh! You just take it straight back to the gutter you fished it out of.”

At this Maysie began to cry; sobbing out the story of its ill treatment.

“Oh, well, I reckon we’ll keep her till she’s cured up, anyway.”

So Maysie kept her cat, and pity blossomed so quickly into love that she was perfectly blind to its ugliness and fondly fancied it the dearest, sweetest and loveliest kitty in all the world.

On the next Sunday, Mrs. Williams read out from her great big newspaper: “A National Cat Show at Madison Square.”

“What’s a National Cat Show?” asked Maysie, who was sitting playing with Rags, as she called her foundling.

“Why it’s—it’s a show of cats, I suppose, and it’s to be held next Wednesday in Madison Square Garden.”

“Oh, yes, that must be where that bad boy in the street told me to send Rags, but I thought, o’ course, he was just foolin’; he said, maybe I’d get a prize for her. Do you—— do you think I might, mother?”

Mrs. Williams hid a smile behind her newspaper, as she read of the gorgeous Angora, Maltese, Persian and other rare and beautiful cats that were to be exhibited by the richest and most fashionable ladies in New York, but she only answered: “I shouldn’t wonder.”

This was enough. In the course of ten seconds, Maysie had decided in her own mind that she would take Rags to the show, and that there was not the slightest use of worrying her poor, tired mother about it beforehand and spoiling the delightful “s’prise.”

Early Wednesday morning Mrs. Williams started for her day’s work. Maysie, when left alone, fairly raced the breakfast dishes around her dishpan, over the towel and up again on the shelf. Then she slipped into a nice little fresh calico dress, tied a new red ribbon around Rags’s neck in a fantastic bow, which, however, would slide around under her chewed-off ear, then cramming her into the market-basket, she set off with a light heart.

She was too early to be admitted, and so had to stand and wait near the side door marked “Entrance for Cats.”

At last a carriage drove up to the great front door of the building and a lady descended from it, followed by a maid in a white cap, carrying a basket. She was such a pretty lady and so beautifully dressed, that Maysie liked her on the spot, and thought that it would only be kind to inform her that she was not at the right entrance for cats and must wait at the side door with her.

The lady smiled when she told her, and she said: “Oh, thank you, you’re very good; I see you have a cat, too! Is it to be in the show?”

“Oh, yes, don’t you think she’ll get a prize?”

“Pro—probably,” said the lady, turning away for an instant and shaking so strangely that Maysie thought she was cold.

“Had’nt I better ask the other lady to bring you a shawl or sumpin’ out of your carriage?”

“No, thank you, I’m quite well. Suppose we go into the show together?”

“Why, we can’t, can we. It ain’t open yet, is it?”

“Not to every one, but I am one of the patronesses, and I fancy they will let us in.” And sure enough they did.

“Here is a little girl who has a cat she would like to exhibit,” said the lady to a gentle-looking man inside, who seemed to be managing everything. “I know it’s rather late to enter it, but—” and she whispered something which made him smile and look almost as queerly at Maysie as the lady had done.

However, he gave Rags a nice cage, with soft straw in it, and a little medal with a number on it to hang around her neck by a scarlet ribbon.

“Now, you had better go up stairs and wait,” he said; “they won’t be on for an hour yet, and the judges cannot award the prizes until then.”

Maysie did not understand very clearly what he meant, but she was a trustful little soul, and so left Rags with him and climbed the stairs to a little waiting-room above.

After awhile the lady joined her saying, “Come, we can go in now.”

Pale with excitement, Maysie accepted the hand held out to her, and grasping it tightly, entered the great exhibition. Oh, wasn’t it beautiful! All lit up with ’lectric light! Row after row of cages crossed the floor, in each one of which blinked and stretched and softly purred a lovely, lovely kitty.

They kept getting more and more wonderful and beautiful as Maysie and the lady went on and on, but in her royal little soul, Rags’s mistress would not admit that any one of them was prettier or sweeter, or half as clever as Rags.

No, not even that grandest, showiest Angora, lying upon a rose-colored velvet cushion with exquisite pink roses in cut-glass bowls around her, and a tiny canary bird singing away blissfully in the same cage.

“You know, Rags ain’t never seen a bird, lessen it’s a sparrer, and she ain’t never smelt a flower in all her life, so wouldn’t you think they’d give her a prize jus’ to keep her from feelin’ bad?”

“Yes, I would indeed. There are the judges and they are coming from the other side of the room. Now, we will go over there and look for Rags, and if they have given her a prize, it will be written upon a card and hung on her cage, where we can see it in an instant.”

“Oh, my, do you suppose everybody what’s got a cat here feels like I do now?”

“I hardly think so much so, dear.”

At last they stood before Rags’s cage. Maysie put both hands over her eyes and peeped fearfully through her fingers.

“Oh! Oh! I believe I see a card.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What’s on it? Oh! What is on it?”

“P-r-i-z-e, prize!” read the lady.

“Ten dollars prize for the ug—for Rags.”

“My,” said Maysie, and she burst into tears of pure joy.

The lady kissed her warmly, dried her eyes and placed the bowl of roses right under Rags’s funny little nose.

Then the great, severe looking judges came up and congratulated her, and counted out into her two little hands all the heap of money that was the prize.

“And now,” said the lady, “I will drive you home.”

So she did, and didn’t all the children in the neighborhood run off to see who was getting out of the fine carriage that stopped before the tenement, and weren’t they surprised to find it was just Maysie? And didn’t Mrs. Williams laugh and cry and scold and pet her all at once when she heard the great news?

“Dear, dear, what a jewel Rags is.”

“Yes,” said her mother, “who’d have thought she’d have brought us such good luck by her very homeliness?”

“Homely? Why, mother, you forget, she’s got a prize.”

“So I did,” said Mrs. Williams, “so I did, of course.”

DIFFERENCES BETWEEN CAT AND DOG.

ELIZABETH I. CASSIN.

Cats see their prey, and catch it by creeping slyly up to it. Dogs smell their prey, and catch it by running it down. Cats must therefore have good eyes and be able to move very softly, while dogs must have strong scent and be able to go fast and far.

WHY CATS WASH AFTER EATING.

EVA J. BEEDE.

You may have noticed, little friends, That cats don’t wash their faces Before they eat, as children do, In all good Christian places.

Well, years ago, a famous cat, The pangs of hunger feeling, Had chanced to catch a fine young mouse Who said, as he ceased squealing,

“All genteel folks their faces wash Before they think of eating!” And, wishing to be thought well-bred, Puss heeded his entreating.

But when she raised her paw to wash Chance for escape affording, The sly young mouse said his good-bye, Without respect to wording.

A feline council met that day, And passed, in solemn meeting, A law forbidding any cat To wash till _after_ eating.

* * * * *

A kitten looked up with a sanctified grin, Singing “Birdie, nice birdie, sweet birdie.” When the robin descended she gobbled him in, Singing “Birdie, nice birdie, sweet birdie.”

THE CATS’ TEA PARTY.

_Action Poem._

[1]Four little pussy-cats, invited out to tea, Cried: “Mother, let us go. Oh, do! [2]for good we’ll surely be, [3]We’ll wear our bibs and hold [4]our things as you have shown us how— Spoons in right paws, cups as well, and [5]make a pretty bow; We’ll always say ‘Yes, if you please,’ and ‘Only half of that.’” “Then go, my darling children,” said the happy Mother Cat.

[6]The four little pussy-cats went out that night to tea, [7]Their heads were smooth and glossy, their tails were swinging free; They held their things as they had learned, and tried to be polite;— [8]With snowy bibs beneath their chins they were a pretty sight. But, alas for manners beautiful, [9]and coats as soft as silk! The moment that the little kits were asked to take some milk,

[10]They dropped their spoons, forgot to bow, and—oh, what do you think? They put their noses in the cups and all began to drink! Yes, every naughty little kit set up a _miou_ for more, Then knocked the tea-cups over, [11]and scampered through the door.

DIRECTIONS.

[Footnote 1: Stand erect, hands by side.]

[Footnote 2: Fold arms and look very imploringly.]

[Footnote 3: Place pinafores to imitate bibs by raising the bottom and placing it around neck.]

[Footnote 4: Place fingers as if to lift a cup to mouth.]

[Footnote 5: Make a bow.]

[Footnote 6: Let children take hold of hands as if to go out.]

[Footnote 7: Smooth hair.]

[Footnote 8: Point to chins.]

[Footnote 9: Point to coats or pinafores.]

[Footnote 10: Look very sorrowful.]

[Footnote 11: Raise hands and throw them both forward toward door.]

A CAT’S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION.

MRS. GERTRUDE MANLY JONES.

A kitty named Pollie—just over the way— Gave a party last week on her second birthday. It was—so I’ve heard—quite a stylish affair, For the cat elite of the village was there. For a week the party was meowed about, After the neat invitations were out; “What shall I wear?” was a question oft asked, And for some little time the kitties harassed; At last they decided, without a demur, That because of cool weather, they’d all dress in fur. In the meanwhile, Pollie was burdened with care To get up a fine supper, and nice bill of fare. There were grasshopper croquets and truffles to make; A lot of fat lizards to stuff and to bake; There were mice, to be fricasseed, parboiled and stewed, And strong catnip bouillon, and punch to be brewed— Oh, my! Was there ever before a gray cat Who had such a weight on her shoulders as that? But at last the eventful evening came ’round, And everything was quite in readiness found. In the old kitchen garden the table was set, And a funnier table you never saw yet; The tea cups were egg shells; and turnip green plates Were loaded with savory messes and baits; A large rutabaga was hollowed out clean, And made quite an excellent bouillon tureen; The table was trimmed up with beet leaves and mint, And festoons of parsley were used without stint. As the clock struck midnight, the guests all poured in, And you never did hear such a horrible din! The old cornstalk fiddles set up a full blast, And partners for quadrilles were taken up fast. How the feet and the tails did fly in the air! How the sparks glinted off from the soft glossy hair! Some cats promenaded; others, played the coquette, While a pair on the fencetop struck up a duet; The ball had now reached its dizziest height, When from a near cottage, there flashed a bright light; A window was hastily raised with a bang, And a pistol-shot out through the old garden rang. I tell you the sound of that ringing report Put an end to the dancing, the singing and sport. The beaux—why, they went just tearing off home, And left the young kitties to come on alone. Kittie Pollie was very much chagrined about The way her grand entertainment turned out, And although she certainly was not to blame, She declares she will never give parties again.

THE LOST KITTY.

Have any of you seen my kitty? I have hunted all over the house for her and I can’t find her anywhere. She’s not under the stove nor up in my bed, and I don’t know what to do. Won’t you help me look for her? She is a gray kitty, with a white spot between her eyes. You will know her by that. Her name is Spot, and she knows it just as well as I know my name. When I have a saucer of milk for her, and call, “Here, Spot, Spot, Spot!” she runs as fast as her little feet can trot. Oh, dear, where are you, kitty? I wish I could find you. I hope no big, bad boy, or naughty little girl has carried you away. Hark! What is that? “Meow, meow, meow.” Why, there she is, now, on the window-sill. Just wait, my precious, darling old kitty, until I get you in my arms!

A MODEST CAT’S SOLILOQUY.

Oh, what a grand and glorious thing it is to be a cat! Yes, every day I live, I grow more positive of that.

For all the great, big busy world, as is quite right and meet! Comes humbly every day to lay its tribute at my feet;

Far down within the damp, dark earth the grimy miner goes, That I on chilly nights may have a fire for my toes;

Brave sailors plow the wintry main, through peril and mishap, That I, on Oriental rugs, may take my morning nap.

Out in the distant meadow meekly graze the lowing kine, That milk, in endless saucerfuls, all foaming, may be mine;

The fish that swim the ocean, and, the birds that fill the air— Did I not like their bones to pick, pray, think you they’d be there?

But first, of all who wait on me, preeminent is man; For me he toils through all the day, and through the night doth plan;

Especially the gentleman who keeps this house for me, And takes such thoughtful, anxious care, that I should suited be.

He’s stocked his rare old attic with the finest breed of mice, A little hunting, now and then, comes in so very nice.

And furthermore, the thoughtful man, a wife has married him, To tidy up the house for me, and keep it neat and trim;

And both of them with deference my slightest fancy treat, And as I’m quite fastidious about the things I eat,

They never offer me a dish, to please my appetite, Until they’ve tasted it themselves, to see if all is right;

And to entice my palate, when it’s cloyed with other things, All fattening in a gilded cage, a choice canary swings.

But, best of all they’re training up, with pains that can’t be told, Their children, just to wait on me, when they have grown too old.

Oh, truly I am monarchess of all that I survey; No rules or laws I recognize, no bells or calls obey.

I eat and sleep, and sleep and eat, nor ever have I toiled; No kind of base, degrading work my paws has ever soiled.

Oh, truly ’tis a gladsome thing to be a pussy-cat! I’m truly glad, when I was born, I stopped to think of that.

A MIRROR CAT.

OLIVER HERFORD.