broken arm
together, threw her into a fever; and for a long while it was feared
she would die; but you will be glad to know that she got well, and that
I have seen her since, with her face as full of sunshine as if a cloud
had never passed over it; and that I have heard her, with some other
little children, in a school, saying: "Suffer little children to come
unto me, and forbid them not;" and you can't tell how happy this made
me, after hearing her sad story.

Are you not glad that there are good, true, kind hearts left in the
world, who remember that Jesus said, "_Feed my lambs_"?

LETTER FROM TOM GRIMALKIN TO HIS MOTHER.

MY DEAR MAMMA GRIMALKIN: How _could_ you let Miss Nipper take
me away from you? I am so miserable, that I have not run around
after my tail once since I came here. There's nothing here to amuse
me, not even a fly in the room to catch, for Miss Nipper won't have
one about. There she sits, knitting--knitting--knitting--in the
chimney corner. If she'd only drop her ball now and then, it would
be quite a pretty little excitement for me to chase it round, you
know; but she never drops her ball, nor her handkerchief, nor even
leaves an old shoe round for me to toss about--and as to playing
with her apron strings, I should as soon think of jumping into the
cradle of Queen Victoria's baby.

I should like to hop up in the chairs now and then, by way of
variety, but I don't dare,--or up on the window seats, to see
what's going on in the street; but she won't let me. Goodness knows
she needn't be afraid my paws are dirty, for I haven't been over
the threshold since I came here, for a breath of fresh air; beside,
every morning she souses me head over heels in a tub of water, till
I hear all sorts of sounds, and see all sorts of sights; and then
roasts my brains out drying me between the andirons. Ah, it's very
well for people to talk about "leading a _dog's_ life of it."
_I_ say, let 'em try a _cat's_.

Now I am about old enough to begin to go into society a little, and
there are a plenty of well-bred cats here in the neighborhood, with
beautiful voices, who give free concerts every moonlight night, but
Miss Nipper won't let me stir a paw. I don't think I shall stand it
much longer; for the other day, when she went out of the room, I
hopped up on the table, and noticed that my whiskers had be