un bear' a ble
med' dle some
en light' ened
in quis' i tive



THE GRUMBLING PUSS.


"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
the top of the garden wall.

"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
hang _her_."

"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.

"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
death of me?"

"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"

"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."

"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
and I might be managed much more easily."