58 MY SUMMER IN A GARDEN. 



were in the army, he would be called Long 

 Tom. He is a cat of fine disposition, the most 

 irreproachable morals I ever saw thrown away 

 in a cat , and a splendid hunter. He spends his 

 nights, not in social dissipation, but in gathering 

 in rats, mice, flying-squirrels, and also birds. 

 When he first brought me a bird, I told him 

 that it was wrong, and tried to convince him, 

 while he was eating it, that he was doing wrong ; 

 for he is a reasonable cat, and understands pretty 

 much everything except the binomial theorem 

 and the time down the cycloidal arc. But with 

 no effect. The killing of birds went on to my 

 great regret and shame. 



The other day I went to my garden to get a 

 mess of peas. I had seen, the day before, that 

 they were just ready to pick. How I had lined 

 the ground, planted, hoed, bushed them ! The 

 bushes were very fine, seven feet high, and of 

 good wood. How I had delighted in the grow- 



