ster went out, saying,
"Mr. Wood is a humbug, anyway." I waited till all was quiet, then I took
a survey of the room. I began to feel hungry, as you may imagine, for I
had eaten nothing since the first of November; so I crawled over to the
saucer of milk, and drank it all. How I did laugh when my master came in
and I heard him say, "That cat has been here and drunk all the turtle's
milk"!

Since then he has watched me very closely. He gave me a piece of banana
the other day, and it was very good. Sometimes he gives me a few
earth-worms, of which I am especially fond; and there are four flies in
the room--there were five, but I caught one and ate him: he was
delicious. I mean to have the others before long. The way in which I
catch them is this: I lie perfectly still in the sun, and when one comes
along, I snap him. Flies are generally too quick for me, but I am very
patient.

The first thing that I can remember is that I lived on a sand-bank with
thirteen brothers and sisters. We used to eat flies and little insects
then, and as we were very lively, we could catch them easily, and I
think that the flies were more plenty. We grew very fast at first, and
we soon wandered off, and were separated. For the next two years of my
life I travelled, living near strawberry beds in the spring, then among
raspberry and blackberry bushes, and finally in pear and apple orchards.
I lived mostly upon insects, only taking a bite of strawberry or pear
for a relish. I have heard my master say that I always picked out the
best-looking pears to bite; but that is only fair, for if I did not eat
up the insects, he would not have any best-looking pears at all, so I
don't think that he ought to grumble.

It was in a pear orchard that one of the happiest events of my life took
place. It was while eating pears that I met my Matilda Jane. Oh, she was
the most lovely young turtle that you can imagine! Her beautifully
rounded shell, with its delicate markings in black and "old gold," which
was just then coming into fashion, her snake-like head and neck, and her
beautiful bright yellow eyes, gave her the well-deserved name of "The
Belle of the Village." We loved each other at the first, and for some
time we were inseparable, until one morning, when my master's father was
coming to the city, I was picked up, wrapped in a newspaper, and packed
off to Brooklyn, that I might "kill the slugs in the garden," I heard my
master say. For two weary years I l