boxes and didn't move when the hens came to lay, and evidently had no
idea that they were not hens.

"Oh, there is no end to the cat situation. It began with the old fellow
who put his hand under the cat to lift her up, and she arched her back
higher and higher until he found it was the serpent Asgard, and it won't
end with you and me. I don't know but she _is_ the serpent Asgard.
I don't know if you have hypnotized or magnetized me, but I am writing
as if I had known you intimately all my life, and feel as though I had.
It is the freemasonry of cats. I always said they were possessed of
spirits, and they use white magic to bring their friends together."

Mrs. Spofford's "barn kittens" bring to mind an incident related by Mrs.
Wood, the beautiful wife of Professor C.G. Wood, of the Harvard Medical
School. At their summer place on Buzzard's Bay she has fifteen cats,
mostly Angoras, Persians, and coons, with several dogs. These cats
follow her all about the place in a regular troop, and a very handsome
troop they are, with their waving, plumy tails tipped gracefully over at
the ends as if saluting their superior officer. Among the dogs is a
spaniel named Gyp that is particularly friendly with the cats. There are
plenty of hens on the farm, and one spring a couple of bantams were
added to the stock. The cats immediately took a great fancy to these
diminutive bipeds, and watched them with the greatest interest. Finally
the little hen had a flock of chickens. As the weather was still cold,
the farmer put them upstairs in one of the barns, and every day Gyp
would take seven or eight of those cats up there to see the fluffy
little things. Dog and cats would seat themselves around the bantam and
her brood and watch them by the hour, never offering to touch the
chickens except when the little things were tired and went for a nap
under their mother's wings; and then some cat--first one and then