Tales From Catland, for Little Kittens.

by Tabitha Grimalkin.

THE THREE CATS.

Many hundred years ago, in the good old times of the fairies, there lived a young princess in a very grand palace. Its walls were of the purest white marble, the doors were of orange-wood, the window-frames were of gold, and the furniture of the rooms was of the most costly description. The princess's drawing-room was hung with beautiful tapestry, the curtains were of the richest crimson silk, all over golden flowers, the mirrors reached from the floor to the ceiling, and the chairs were of ebony inlaid with precious stones. And the princess had two hundred and four best gowns, some of cloth of gold, some of silver tissue; besides a great many others, nearly as good, that she wore every day.

But my story has not so much to do with the princess, as with her _cats_, for she had two; an elderly one, called Glumdalkin, and a very frolicsome young one whose name was Friskarina. Glumdalkin was, somehow or other, second cousin once removed to Friskarina, but years older; and, to say the truth, Friskarina was not very fond of her: however, in consideration of her age and relationship, she behaved on the whole very civilly and respectfully to her. They were so very different. And there was not the least family likeness, either, in their persons. Glumdalkin was jet black, had an uncommonly cross pair of green eyes, that seemed always on the look-out for something going wrong, was very fat, and moved as if it was too much trouble to her to walk across the room; while Friskarina's coat was of the richest tortoise-sh.e.l.l, and though she was quite plump, and as sleek as satin, yet there was not a more lively little creature in all Catland; it quite did one good to see her jumping over the foot-stools in the princess's drawing-room. She had a prodigious longing, sometimes, to jump over cousin Glum's great broad back, as she sat before the fire; but she knew _that_ would never do, so she was prudent, and contented herself with scampering over the furniture; while Glumdalkin, pretending to be sound asleep all the time, would be watching her with one eye open the least bit in the world, and secretly wishing that Friskarina might be unlucky enough to dash down one of the princess's old china jars that stood under the table.

It was a cold winter's evening--_very_ cold--and the pages had drawn the thick crimson curtains in the drawing-room, and the fire had been mended, and was piled high up, blazing and crackling; the candles were lighted, and Glumdalkin's velvet cushion had been placed ready for her in front of the fire, and she was slowly crawling towards it, that she might stretch herself out at full length, and digest the wing of a boiled fowl that she had just been dining upon. The princess was lying on the sofa by the side of the fire, apparently fast asleep. But she was not asleep; and, moreover, she was watching Glumdalkin, who had settled herself very comfortably on her cushion, while Friskarina, looking much graver than usual, was sitting with her shoulders drawn up to her ears, in quite an old cattish att.i.tude, and her bright shining eyes fixed thoughtfully on the fire.

Now you must know that the princess had an old aunt who was a fairy; and she had bestowed upon her niece the faculty of understanding the language of animals; a very amusing gift it was, and the princess often derived great diversion from it. On the present occasion, as she lay on her sofa after dinner, she thought it would be very good entertainment to hear what Glumdalkin and Friskarina might be talking about.

But some time pa.s.sed before either said anything; at last, Glumdalkin gave a great yawn, and flapping her tail rather angrily against the cushion, remarked:

'Really, Friskarina, you are dreadfully stupid, to-night; you make noise enough when I want to go to sleep: but now, when I am inclined for a little rational conversation, you sit there as mum and sulky as an old bear.'

Friskarina was used to polite observations from her second cousin once removed, so she very quietly answered that she thought Glumdalkin had been going to take a nap, and that she did not wish to disturb her.

'Well, I do admire that!' exclaimed Glumdalkin; 'you are wonderfully considerate, all at once; now, _I_ think, Miss Friskarina, you have been getting into mischief, and that's the reason you sit so quiet there. I should like to know where you were all this morning, when the pages were running all over the house after you, because the princess wanted you, and n.o.body could find you? Well, people have strange tastes! I should have thought she would have found the company of a grave, decorous cat, like myself, who knows the ways of the court, and has seen something of society, a great deal more agreeable than that of such a ridiculous, light-headed thing as you are: I declare you make me quite nervous very often, you jump about so! But she never sent for _me_; so of course I could not go to her. The world's very unlike what it was when I was young--very unlike indeed!' and, giving an odd kind of grunt in her throat, Glumdalkin curled herself round on the other side, as if in a sort of despair at the wickedness of the world.

Friskarina thought she had not much to complain of, but she did not venture to say it; so she answered, quite good-naturedly:

'I am very sorry, cousin Glumdalkin, that I was out when the princess called for me, but _indeed_ I was in no mischief; I was seeing such strange sights, it has made me quite unhappy ever since I came back.'

'Humph!' said Glumdalkin, 'and pray what wonderful things have you been seeing?'

'Why,' replied Friskarina, 'I got uncommonly tired this morning of the palace garden, I know every stick and stone in it so well. I had been racing nine times round the gravel walk, and had got half way round to make up ten, when, luckily, I saw that the gardener had left the outer door ajar; so I thought I might as well take the opportunity of seeing what there was on the other side of the wall; accordingly I peeped out and found that I was in a kind of road, with some such odd looking things, here and there, I don't know what to call them, but I fancy people live in them, for I saw some persons going into one of them.

They were not in the least like this house that the princess lives in; I am sure Grandmagnificolowsky, the tall page, could never have stood upright in any one of them--and so black and dismal and dirty they looked!'

'And you went into one of the nasty places, of course?' growled Glumdalkin; '_cottages_, child, they are called.'

'You shall hear all, in good time,' answered Friskarina; 'I was peeping about, outside our garden door, rather afraid to venture further, when I saw _such_ a cat come out of one of these cottages, as you call them--O Glumdalkin! it really would have made your heart ache to have seen her. I had no idea there were such cats in the world. It was dreadful to look at her; she was so horribly thin, you might have counted her bones, and as dirty as if she had lived all her life in a coal-hole: she crawled out of the door as if she had hardly strength to walk, and _such_ a thin tail she had; it made me shudder to look at her. I couldn't help going up and asking her what was the matter with her----'

'What!' interrupted Glumdalkin, rousing herself up, her eyes flashing fire, and her whiskers standing on end, 'do you mean to say, that _you_--a cat descended from such an honorable and distinguished family as ours--one of the most ancient in Catland--that you actually demeaned yourself so far as to enter into conversation with a filthy, beggarly wretch, crawling out of a miserable cottage? Friskarina, on the honor of a cat, I am ashamed of you.'

'I certainly _did_ enter into conversation with her,' replied Friskarina, plucking up a little spirit; 'for I asked her where she lived, and why she was so thin and dirty.'

'I wonder,' said Glumdalkin, 'how you could bear to go near her.'

'But, one couldn't help it, you know,' said Friskarina, 'when she looked so very wretched. Poor thing! when I asked her how it was she was so thin, the tears came into her eyes, and she said, she had so very little to eat. I asked her if her mistress never gave her any cream? and--would you believe it?--she actually asked me what cream was.'

'Why, you simple child,' said Glumdalkin, 'do you suppose _cottage_ cats ever taste such a thing? They think themselves lucky if they can get a drop of skimmed milk now and then----' (Some people suspected, but this is _quite_ between ourselves, that Glumdalkin, though she boasted that she had never been outside the walls of the palace garden in her life, knew more about the ways of cats in humble stations than she chose to confess--her father, it was said, had married sadly beneath his family.)

'I don't believe,' continued Friskarina, 'that _that_ poor cat ever gets even skimmed milk; for she told me her mistress could not get enough to eat herself, and that she hardly ever gave _her_ anything at all; so that all she lives upon is a chance mouse, when she can catch it, or the black beetles she finds on the floor at night. And when she is thirsty, she goes to a gutter that runs by the side of the road, and laps a little muddy water. Only fancy what a dreadful life to lead. I had no notion that there was a cat in the world so badly off.

I really could not eat my dinner to-day, for thinking about it. It seems so sad, to have all these nice things, all the great saucers of cream that we have for breakfast, and these soft cushions to sleep upon, and then to think of that poor cat, so near us, catching black beetles (nasty things!) for her supper, and lapping out of the dirty gutter; it makes me quite wretched.'

'Friskarina;' said Glumdalkin, rising from her velvet cushion, with a great deal of majesty in her air, and curling her tail very solemnly round her toes--'Friskarina, let us have no more of this nonsense, if you please! I consider your behavior this morning, and your conversation at present, utterly beneath the dignity of a cat of condition. Remember the distinguished family from which you have sprung, and that you have the honor to belong to the household of the princess--so, pray, let me hear no more of making acquaintances among the vulgar cats of the village; you will be a disgrace to the court!'

Friskarina shrugged her shoulders, and replied, in rather an under-tone, 'that she really did not see anything _disgraceful_ in being sorry for the unfortunate----' to which Glumdalkin made no answer. She seemed to be seized with a violent fit of cleanliness, and began washing and biting her right paw with extraordinary vehemence.

Just then, the entrance of Grandmagnificolowsky, and three or four more of the pages, with the princess's supper, put an end to the conversation. A fine gold dish, containing several dainty morsels, which the princess had carved with her own royal hands, was put down upon the velvet cushion, and Glumdalkin did them full justice.

When supper was over, two of the maids of honor carried the two cats to their beds, where we will leave them for the night, in pretty little baskets lined with yellow satin, and made so delightfully soft and warm, that it almost made one go to sleep only to look at them.

Nevertheless, Friskarina lay awake a whole quarter of an hour, turning over a plan in her little head, that she meant to try and bring to pa.s.s the next day, if possible.

Glumdalkin was fast asleep in a minute. What was the princess doing?

She was lying in her splendid bed, thinking and watching the fire-light dancing upon the spangles of her curtains, for her bed was so beautiful--so very beautiful! It was made all of silver, in the shape of a nautilus sh.e.l.l; and the curtains were of pale blue satin, embroidered with silver flowers: you never saw such a lovely bed as it was! And the longer the princess watched the light flashing so merrily upon all the fine things in the room, the more she thought; and the more she thought, the more unhappy she grew, but what she thought about I can't tell you; perhaps we shall guess by and bye: I dare say she dropped asleep at last.

During the night there was a heavy fall of snow. When the princess came down to breakfast, the gra.s.s was covered with a sheet of pure white--the trees quivered beneath the snow that covered their boughs--the shrubs in the garden looked like a fairy-wood of frosted silver glittering in the cold, bright sun--and far, far away, many miles distant, rose high mountains, white and dreary, with pine forests nodding on their summits. It was very--very cold.

Now there were few things Friskarina liked better than a gambol in the snow; so, as soon as she had finished her breakfast, and had warmed herself well at the fire, off she set, full drive, into the garden, pattering hither and thither, that she might have the pleasure of making as many footmarks as possible, and jumping up at the flakes that came tumbling down from the laurel-leaves. Never was there such a merry little cat! At last the thought struck her--the poor cottage cat--did she like the snow, too? and Friskarina longed to know whether she could come out that morning: perhaps she meant to sit by the fire all day. By degrees, Friskarina recollected that she went to sleep the night before with a plan in her head. So she ran down the lawn towards the garden door, hoping to find it again open. Alas! the ill-natured gardener had shut it quite fast. However, Friskarina was not easily daunted; a cat of genius is never without resources. She turned her eyes towards a thick trailing of ivy that grew up the wall, and she began to wonder whether cousin Glumdalkin would be likely to spy her out if she climbed up the ivy-tree, and so got over the wall that way. She considered, however, that on such a morning as that, Glumdalkin would be sure to be on the hearth-rug, with her nose as close to the fender as possible, not troubling her head in the least about the world out of doors.

So, making a vigorous spring, Friskarina was soon half-way up the ivy-tree, shaking down a shower of white flakes every jump she made.

At length she was fairly at the top of the wall. It was a terrible height from the ground, and there was no ivy on the other side to help her down by.

So she sat down to rest, and look about her a minute. The miserable cottages looked still _more_ miserable than they had done the day before--the snow lay thick on their roofs--no smoke issued from their chimneys--no one seemed stirring about them. Nothing could well be more desolate.

Suddenly, the door of one of them opened, and an old woman came out, followed by Friskarina's new friend, the unhappy cat. Such an old woman Friskarina had never beheld, nor imagined, before. She was not a bit like the Lady Dumbellinda, the princess's governess, the only old lady Friskarina had ever seen, for _she_ was very fat, and had very rosy cheeks, and very smooth hair, in set curls that never seemed to get out of order; and she had very fine velvet gowns, and beautiful clothes. But this poor old woman, who came out of the hut, was all shrivelled up, as it were, and seemed as if she had hardly a bit of flesh on her bones, and her hair was nearly as white as the snow, and the wind blew it from under her cap in all directions; she had an old rag of a gray cloak on, that she tried to keep about her, with one hand, as well as she could, but the wind got in so through the holes, that she might almost as well have been without it. She had come out to look for sticks; for the gusts that swept down from the hills snapped off the little twigs from the tall trees, and scattered them about the road. After picking up a few, the poor old creature, shaking her head, and shivering beneath the cold blast, turned back, and re-entered her cottage; shutting her door after her, so that her cat was left without. Poor p.u.s.s.y soon spied her friend, who had spoken so condescendingly to her the day before, on the top of the wall, and she saluted her with an air of the greatest deference and humility.

Friskarina returned her a gracious bow, and, without further hesitation, dropped down from the wall.

It was lucky for her that there was a good thick bed of snow at the bottom, so that she fell soft; but she rolled quite over. However, she was nothing the worse, and she ran up to her new acquaintance; and, after remarking what a snowy morning it was, demanded her name.

'My mistress calls me Tibb, please your ladyship;' said the poor little cat, shaking with the cold.

'I did not know whether I should see you this morning,' pursued Friskarina, 'I thought you might be sitting by the fire all day, as it is so very cold.'

'Dear ma'am, we have no fire!' exclaimed poor Tibb, as if astonished at the very idea of such a luxury; 'my mistress won't have a fire till she wants to boil her dinner.'

'Then how do you ever keep yourself warm?' asked Friskarina, quite horror-struck.

'Please, my lady, I never _am_ warm,' said poor Tibb, in a very melancholy voice.

Friskarina was ready to cry, 'And you say they never give you any dinner, either?' she said.

'Very seldom, indeed, your ladyship.'

'But your mistress must be dreadfully cruel,' exclaimed Friskarina, 'to take no more care of you than that!'

'What can she do?' replied Tibb, 'she has not got enough for herself and her daughter, so it is not likely she can give me anything. If your gracious ladyship would just please to step this way, and peep under the door, you will see how my mistress lives.' So saying, Tibb led the way to the hut; and Friskarina, crouching down to a very wide c.h.i.n.k under the door, saw a dwelling, the mere notion of which had never entered her imagination till that moment.

'And have you lived _here_ all your life?' she said, drawing back at length, and looking with the most sincere compa.s.sion at Tibb.

'Where else could I go, my lady?' replied the poor cat; 'it is better than lying in the road.'

'And you absolutely don't know what it is to have a good dinner? How very shocking! But now listen to me, Tibb; do you think you can manage to climb over that wall?'