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Entered according to Act of Congress, in June, 1868, by J. W. Burke & Cos., in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the So. District of Georgia.
VOL. 11.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
THE FOUR LITTLE KITTENS.
my Charley was a wee
little boy, just old enough to
' understand what was read to
him, his grandfather sent him
the prettiest picture book, about “Three
Little Kittens.” Did you ever see it?
It begins:
“ Three little kittens.
They lost their mittens,
And they began to cry
Oh, mammy dear,
We sadly fear
Our mittens we have lost.”
Then the old mother cat says:
“ What! lost your mittens,
You naughty kittens!
Then you shall have no pie.”
and the little kittens cried “ Miew!
Miew! —Miew 1”
But after a while the three little kit
tens found their mittens, and then their
mother gave them some pie, whereupon
they said, “ Purr, purr, purr.”
But what silly little creatures they
must have been, for they put on their
mittens to eat their pie, and the conse
quence was that the mittens were sadly
soiled, and they got another scolding
from their mother. But
“ The three little kittens
They washed their mittens,
And hung them up to dry:
Oh. mammy dear,
Look here ! look here!
Our mittens we have washed.”
There were the funniest pictures in
this book, all beautifully colored. The
old mother cat had on spectacles- and a
cap, and the kittens were the most
comical-looking little fellows you ever
saw. One was white, another spotted,
and the other black, and you can’t im
agine how funny they looked with their
mittens on.
Well, Charley was never tired of hear
ing this book read, and he soon knew it
all “by heart.” One day I was sitting
sewing, when in rushed Charley, his
eyes Hashing with excitement, and said :
“ Oh ! mother, there are four of the
tiniest little kittens in the box in the
MACON, GEORGIA, AUGUST i, 1868.
garret Now, can’t I have some little
kittens of my own, and let ’em wear
mittens ?”
“ But, my son,” I replied, “four kit
tens are too many to have about the
house at one time. You recollect there
were only three in the book, and they
gave their mother a good deal of trou
ble. Besides, I don’t think you will be
able to persuade your kittens to wear
mittens. I have never known them to
do so, except in story books.’’
“ But, mamma, maybe mine will be
the same sort as the story books tell
about; and I know four is gooder than
three. So, please, mamma, let me
bring them all down stairs.”
Charley had so set his heart on it,
that I was obliged to yield, and down
stairs came the four little kittens, just
as soon as their eyes were open. And
then what a time there was with Char
ley’s pets. The first thing in the mor
ning, the kittens had to have their
breakfast of milk, and to keep the old
cat from eating it up from them they
were mounted on an arm chair, where
they leisurely took their meals from a
tin plate.
They are now about half grown, and
are so well fed that their little bodies
“ stand out with fatness,” but Charley
still insists on feeding them in the arm
chair, and they have become so used to
it that they jump up into the chair of
their own accord. I am glad to say.
however, that Charley has given up all
idea of providing mittens for his pets,
as they have steadily and persistently
resisted all his efforts to supply them
with those necessary articles of wearing
apparel. He is now thoroughly con
vinced that the only kittens that ever
wore mittens were those told about in
the story book. Aunt Edith.
».•>•—
’Tis difficult to love those we don’t
esteem ; but it is no less difficult to
love those we esteem much more than
ourselves.
Written for Burke’s Weekly.
MAROONER’S ISLAND;
OR,
Dr. Gordon in Search of his Children.
BY REV. F. R. GOULDING,
Author of the “ Young Marooners.''
CHAPTER XXXI.
BEAUTIFUL DAWN —LAWYERS REMARK —
HOW DO WE KNOW THERE IS A GOD ?
SHE Sabbath dawned with rare
beauty. First a grey belt of
pure, soft light, following close
upon the light of the departed
moon, streaked the lower margin of the
sky, extending rapidly north and south t
and spreading higher, brighter, and
more beautiful. Then followed a rosy
tinge, contrasting sweetly with the pure
grey, like the hue of health upon a fair
young cheek. Finally came the rich,
golden light that immediately precedes
the full burst of dazzling, glorious day.
“ Often as I have looked upon scenes
like this,” said Mrs. Mclntosh to her
sister, “I never can witness this sudden
burst of light without feeling my pulse
quicken, and my heart throb.”
“And I never can witness this grad
ual, yet rapid, growth of day from faint
dawn to dazzling light, without thinking
of that beautiful Bible image, ‘ The path
of the just is as the shining light, which
shineth more and more unto the perfect
day.’”
But the eye was not the only organ of
sense regaled that morning. As the
light thus rose, and spread, and bright
ened, the woods became vocal with in
numerable songsters. The brown-wing
ed thrush, known generally as the
thrasher, and by some as the French
mocking bird,* leaped from the spray
where it had spent the night, selected a
spot better suited for song, and then
gave utterance to that delicious liquid
music by which it worships its Creator,
* It imitates other birds very sweetly, and
in some of its notes more so than the grey
bird so generally admired. The first of these
is known by ornithologists as turdus rvfus,
the last as inimus polyglottus.
NO. 5.