A CATASTROPHE IN HIGH LIFE. 



Tertius, as his name signifies, was the 

 third Maltese cat to occupy a very warm 

 place in the hearts of a certain pet-loving 

 family that lived on a quiet, tree-shaded 

 street in a beautiful Eastern city. 



His predecessors were both noted for 

 their wonderful sagacity and great 

 achievements, so he felt that he must im- 

 prove all his opportunities if he was to 

 keep up to their high standard. Just 

 how they had obtained their reputation 

 he did not know, and perhaps it was this 

 ignorance that caused him to make his 

 fatal mistake. 



The beautiful house in which he lived 

 had a large veranda on one side, over 

 which ran a grapevine, and in this grape- 

 vine a pair of robins, most unwisely, de- 

 cided to build their nest. 



"It is a very beautiful spot," said Mrs. 

 Robin. 



"Yes, and that arrangement in the cen- 

 ter there will be splendid to lay the foun- 

 dation on," replied Mr. Robin. 



"It is so picturesque," returned Mrs. 

 R., in a rapture of delight. 



"And there will be such a nice shade 

 for you, my dear, when the leaves are 

 out," added the thoughtful husband. 



"It is a much finer situation than Mr. 

 and Mrs. English Sparrow have for their 

 nest in the eaves up above. Don't you 

 think so, Rob?" 



"Indeed I do, wifey ; but we must to 

 work, for the morning: is advancing. 

 Now, you stay here, while I fly off and 

 get the material." 



In a very few days as pretty a little 

 nest was in the spot selected as you would 

 want to see. Mr. Robin had brought all 

 the material, while his helpful little wife 

 had constructed the nest. 



All this time their movements had been 

 watched by the large, admiring, but 

 greedy eyes of the ambitious Tertius, and 

 one morning the chance he had so pa- 

 tiently waited for came. Mr. l\c)l)in start- 



ed out, thinking in his kind little heart 

 that he would get "little wifey" a par- 

 ticularly large and tasty worm for her 

 breakfast, and he was so intent in scratch- 

 ing in the newly turned garden for it that 

 he did not see the slyly, softly creeping 

 Tertius. One bound, and poor little Rob 

 was caught. He screamed, he scolded, 

 but all to no purpose. Now was Tertius 

 proud. He would carry his prize to his 

 mistress, and she would surely say that 

 his skill and prowess was far beyond that 

 of either of his illustrious ancestors. So, 

 thinking, with arched back and curling 

 tail, he hastily gained the house and at 

 once carried his prize to his mistress' 

 room. But alas for his well-laid plans ! 

 i\las for the praise he had looked for! 

 Instead, to his intense surprise and an- 

 ger, he was greeted with a cry of pain 

 and alarm. The mistress who should 

 have praised rated him well, the hand 

 that should have stroked his smooth coat 

 wrenched his prize from him. In his 

 anger he tried to scratch her in return, 

 but she had been too quick for him, and 

 Robin was saved. Tenderly he was laid 

 in a bed of cotton and placed on an upper 

 veranda, once more in the sweet, balmy 

 air. Cautiously he lifted his head, and 

 as no shining green eyes or sharp paw 

 were to be seen, ventured to hop to the 

 edge of the basket in which his kind pre- 

 server had placed him. One more look 

 around and he stretched out his wings 

 and soared away. 



"Oh, my dear Rob ! I heard your cry. 

 Where have you been? Do tell me all 

 about it!" exclaimed Mrs. Robin on Mr. 

 Robin's return, and he, in a most graphic 

 manner, granted her request ; but, as we 

 already know all about it, we won't stay 

 to listen. 



As to Tertius, he has decided that to 

 win his way to fame he must confine 

 himself in the future to a war on mice. 

 M. Leila Dawson. 



