Life — July 6, 1905 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Summer Story. Tie Diary or a Karten way to tread ? nny d the truth of + Verse, occa touching up my shining, gray ry little pink tongue. Now I would stretch out a paw and of the scarl flowers in the w box or leap at the shadow ing vine uddenly my meditations were interrupted by ah the skulkii eves urse voice from 4, and looking down, I saw a black cat with fierce, furtive a ragged, unkempt coat uy, cub, growled, yard, can I scraps? Cook don't use poison, ch?" * Really, I do not know," I replied with hauteur. * Why sneak about in back yards ? and creamed fish off back around to t own plat “ My own yo with somethin is eyes ; you'll know why when t comes.”" I wonder what he meant ; and—this puzzles me greatly -what are scraps ? June joth : I can- not even think clearly, A few moments before my people left for the country this morning, my young mistress ¢: claimed: “ Oh, what shall we do with Pouf (myself) 2?" I almost laughed outright, the question seemed so absurd Of course, I would go, too. * Let him forage for himself," replied her mother, “He's getting to be a great, lanky cat now. He'll do quite nicely.” A few minutes later they drove away, leaving me on the door-steps alone. When I grew hungry, I scratched on the windows and doors and cried. For hours no one an- swered, and then the brutal caretaker came to the basement door and threatened me with a broom, “I'll be bothered with no yowling cat,” she said in her rough, harsh voice “Clear out now and hunt your own supper. It’s about time you were catching sone mi Mice! Mice! I never saw one, but the word affects me like a half-remem- bered strain of forgotten music July ist. Great heavens, to what have I sunk! I have spent the night in a drainpipe and been thankful for even sr E@ that refuge. Fierce dogs barked at the openings and glared at me with cruel eyes. The most terrible street cats crowded in with me. They said that the drain- ws were the safest asylums from dogs and boys with s. If it had not been for the black cat, [ think | should have diced. He s queer, twisted, bitter smile when he saw me cowering there and said: Hello, cub, [ told you we'd meet in the summer-time. They th Tasked him a tth ining that Thad a sort ze of them, and should came my ¥ but He gritted his teeth horribly, he cried, “ we cats of the t them.” nv us all out without a qualm." ! diffidently inctive knowled intuitive, i »tless know how to handle one if that I felt my ignorance Don’t speak to me of mi gutter never hi ve a chance July Throw the bl h the watches of another night in the drainpipe k cat told me lysium many block where there are tall trees, thick with the nests of y an away, ng birds. There is great hunting in this paradise, and one may know all the pleasures of the chase: proach, the stalk, the climb. His tales made my pulses throb, worn and weak as I am, The Park, for so it is called, is a Mecca for all homeless cats, at least, for those highly educated enough to know of it; but the way is ter- rible, It is over burning pavements and beset with awful nd dogs; but if I only had a little food to strengthen m sure I could get there. boys a me, Is July 3d. We have started. I cannot go very fast because Iam so hungry and frightened. There are very few drainpipes along the route, and the sight of a dead cat in the gutter every few blocks is depressing. « . . « . . . Ican go no further. A boy hit me with a stone and my back is paralyzed. I lie here on the hot pavement think- ing of my mistress down by the sea, laughing, indifferent to my sufferings, and wonder how anyone could have the heart to turn a helpless kitten out todiec. I said some- thing of this to the black cat, and he replied grimly: ‘* My one consolation is that with what measure they mete, even to a cat, it shall be meted to them again.” Mrs. Wilson Woodrow, AN EVOLUTION YROM EINSTEIN TO RIN STRIN. comicbooks.com