warm I turn around so my tail hangs over 

 the outside. When my new mother comes 

 in I open my eyes, make a bow, and, if 

 not too sleepy, come down and sit on her 

 hand. I never chirp or peep, and when 

 I hide and hear "Dewey," Dewey," I do 

 not answer but fly down on my new moth- 

 er's head, shoulder or hand. Taffy gets 

 so angry at me. I know he often feels 

 like killing me. I wake up early morn- 

 ings, and take my exercise by flying back 

 and forth from a picture on one side of 

 the room to the head of the bed. When 

 Taffy is on the foot of the bed I fly very 

 low, almost touching him with my wings, 

 and say, "You lazy cat, why don't you 

 wake up and hear the little birds sing to 

 God Almighty ; why don't you wake up ?" 

 I soon hear words that are not used in 

 polite society, and next see the end of his 

 tail disappearing around the corner of the 

 door. Before I go to sleep at night I ex- 

 ercise again. One afternoon Taffy was 

 trying to take a nap in a chair in the back 

 parlor. I kept flying over him, making a 

 whizzing sound with my wings. When 

 he could endure it no longer he went into 

 the writing-room and sat down by his 

 mother. I went in to take a luncheon on 

 the table. Taffy stood up on his hind legs, 

 reached out a velvet paw, and gave me 

 such a slap I fell upon the floor. I was 

 not hurt in the least, flew up on a picture 

 and shook with laughter at the punish- 

 ment and scolding Mr. Taffy was getting. 

 He said very naughty words, scratched 

 and bit, but he was conquered at last, and 

 has behaved like a gentleman ever since. 

 The first time I saw the snow I was wild 

 with delight, flew to the window and tried 

 to catch the pretty white flakes. But 

 when I heard the sleigh bells they struck 

 terror to my heart, for I thought a whole 

 army of cats was coming, as all I knew 

 about bells are Taffy's. Not long ago 



my new mother was very ill and had to 

 send for a strange physician, who knew 

 nothing about me. When I heard him 

 coming upstairs I hid behind the curtain 

 and watched him fix a white powder in a 

 paper. When he laid it on the table I 

 swoopdd down, grabbed it and took it 

 into my cage. After that I Was kept busy, 

 as my grandmother was ill for many 

 weeks. I would carry off all the sleeping 

 powders ; one day I put them behind the 

 bed, for I thought they would not taste 

 so badly, and do just as much good. 



It did not take more than a minute to 

 get down there when I heard the doctor 

 come in, for I had to see that the medicine 

 was mixed all right. It was great fun 

 peering into the tiny little bottles in his 

 case. I would stand on the ends of my 

 toes and crane my neck to watch him 

 drop the medicine into the tumblers. The 

 other day some Christmas roses were 

 brought in. They looked so tempting I 

 took several bites, and the next day took 

 some more. I felt a little queer, and kept 

 opening my bill. My new mother thought 

 I had something in my throat and gave 

 me some water. The next afternoon she 

 found me on the floor panting, took me to 

 an open window, gave me wine and the 

 attack seemed to pass. We went up to 

 our room, and apparently I was as well 

 as ever when she went down to dinner. 

 After she had gone another attack came 

 on and I am too weak to write any more, 

 and can only warn little birds never to 

 taste of a Christmas rose, as they are said 

 to be deadly poison. 



When I went to my room late in the 

 evening no little birdie peeped over the 

 curtain to greet me. I looked on the 

 floor, and there lay my darling Dewey, 

 stiff and cold. 



Caroline Crowninshield Bascom. 



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