of tobacco placed upon the tongue of a cat would kill the animal
instantly. He did not believe it, and he concluded to try the
experiment to see if it was so. Old Squills, the druggist, has a cat
weighing about fifteen pounds, and Mr. Lamb, taking the animal into
the back room, shut the door, opened the cat's mouth, and applied the
poison. One moment later a wild, unearthly "M-e-e-e-e-ow-ow-ow!" was
emitted by the cat, and, to Mr. Lamb's intense alarm, the animal began
swishing around the room with hair on end and tail in convulsive
excitement, screeching like a fog-whistle. Mr. Lamb is not certain,
but he considers it a fair estimate to say that the cat made the
entire circuit of the room, over chairs and under tables, seventy-four
times every minute, and he is willing to swear to seventy times,
without counting the occasional diversions made by the brute for the
purpose of snatching at Mr. Lamb's pantaloons and hair. Just as Mr.
Lamb had about made up his mind that the cat would conclude the
gymnastic exercises by eating him, the animal dashed through the glass
sash of the door into the shop, whisked two jars of licorice root and
tooth-brushes off the counter, tore out the ipecac-bottle and four
jugs of hair-dye, smashed a bottle of "Balm of Peru," alighted on
the bonnet of a woman who was drinking soda-water, and after a few
convulsions rolled over into a soap-box and died.

Mr. Lamb is now satisfied that a cat actually can be killed in the
manner aforementioned, but he would be better satisfied if old Squills
didn't insist upon collecting from him the price of those drugs and
the glass sash.

* * * * *

Last summer Peter's brother spent a few weeks with him. He owned a