“In the service of this family I continued a good while, performing my duty as a mouser extremely well, so that I was in high esteem. I soon became acquainted with all the particulars of a town life, and distinguished my activity in climbing walls and houses, and jumping from roof to roof, either in pursuit of prey, or upon gossiping parties with my companions. Once, however, I had like to have suffered for my venturing; for having made a great jump from one house to another, I lit upon a loose tile, which giving way with me, I fell from a vast height into the street, and should certainly have been killed, had I not had the luck to light in a dung-cart, whence I escaped with no other injury but being half stifled with filth.
“Notwithstanding the danger I had run from killing the linnet, I am sorry to confess that I was again guilty of a similar offence. I contrived one night to leap down from a roof upon the board of some pigeon-holes, which led to a garret inhabited by those birds. I entered, and finding them asleep, made sad havoc among all that were within my reach, killing and sucking the blood of near a dozen. I was near paying dearly for this, too; for on attempting to return, I found it was impossible for me to leap up again to the place whence I had descended, so that, after several dangerous trials, I was obliged to wait trembling in the place where I had committed all these murders, till the owner came up in the morning to feed his pigeons. I rushed out between his legs as soon as the door was opened, and had the good fortune to get safe down stairs, and make my escape through a window unknown; but never shall I forget the horrors I felt that night! Let my double danger be a warning to you, my children, to control your savage appetites, and on no account to do harm to those creatures which, like ourselves, are under the protection of man. We cats all lie under a bad name for treacherous dispositions in this respect, and with shame I must acknowledge it is but too well merited.
“Well—but my breath begins to fail me, and I must hasten to a conclusion. I still lived in the same family, when our present kind mistress, Mrs. Petlove, having lost a favourite tabby, advertised a very handsome price for another, that should as nearly as possible resemble her dead darling. My owners, tempted by the offer, took me for the good lady’s inspection, and I had the honour of being preferred to a multitude of rivals. I was immediately settled in the comfortable mansion we now inhabit, and had many favours and indulgences bestowed upon me, such as I had never before experienced. Among these I reckon one of the principal that of being allowed to rear all my children, and to see them grow up in peace and plenty. My adventures here have been few; for after the monkey had spitefully bit off the last joint of my tail, (for which I had the satisfaction to see him soundly corrected,) I kept beyond the length of his chain; and neither the parrot nor lapdogs ever dared to molest me. One of the greatest afflictions I have felt here was the stifling of a whole litter of my kittens by a fat old lady, a friend of my mistress, who sat down on the chair where they lay, and never perceived the mischief she was doing till she rose, though I pulled her clothes and used all the means in my power to show my uneasiness. This misfortune my mistress took to heart almost as much as myself, and the lady has never since entered our doors. Indeed, both I and mine had ever been treated here with the utmost kindness—perhaps with too much; for, to the pampering me with delicacies, together with Mrs. Abigail’s frequent washings, I attribute this asthma, which is now putting an end to my life rather sooner than its natural period. But I know all was meant well; and with my last breath I charge you all to show your gratitude to our worthy mistress, by every return in your power.
“And now, my dear children, farewell; we shall perhaps meet again in a land where there are no dogs to worry us, or boys to torment us—Adieu!”
Having thus said, Grimalkin became speechless, and presently departed this life, to the great grief of all the family.
CANUTE’S REPROOF TO HIS COURTIERS.
PERSONS. | |
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Canute | King of England. |
Oswald, Offa | Courtiers. |
Scene—The seaside, near Southampton. The tide coming in.
Canute. Is it true, my friends, what you have so often told me, that I am the greatest of monarchs?
Offa. It is true, my liege; you are the most powerful of all kings.
Oswald. We are all your slaves; we kiss the dust of your feet.
Offa. Not only we, but even the elements, are your slaves. The land obeys you from shore to shore; and the sea obeys you.
Canute. Does the sea, with its loud boisterous waves, obey me? Will that terrible element be still at my bidding?
Offa. Yes, the sea is yours; it was made to bear your ships upon its bosom, and to pour the treasures of the world at your royal feet. It is boisterous to your enemies, but it knows you to be its sovereign.
Canute. Is not the tide coming up?
Oswald. Yes, my liege; you may perceive the swell already.
Canute. Bring me a chair, then; set it here upon the sands.
Offa. Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord?
Canute. Yes, set it just here.
Oswald (aside). I wonder what he is going to do!
Offa (aside). Surely, he is not such a fool as to believe us!
Canute. O, mighty ocean! thou art my subject: my courtiers tell me so; and it is thy bounden duty to obey me. Thus, then, I stretch my sceptre over thee, and command thee to retire. Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them presume to wet the feet of me, thy royal master.
Oswald (aside). I believe the sea will pay very little regard to his royal commands.
Offa. See how fast the tide rises!
Oswald. The next wave will come up to the chair. It is folly to stay; we shall be covered with salt water.
Canute. Well, does the sea obey my commands? If it be my subject, it is a very rebellious subject. See how it swells and dashes the angry foam and salt spray over my sacred person. Vile sycophants! did you think I was the dupe of your base lies? that I believed your abject flatteries? Know, there is only one Being whom the sea will obey. He is sovereign of heaven and earth, King of kings, and Lord of lords. It is only he who can say to the ocean—“Thus far shalt thou go, but no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed.” A king is but a man; and a man is but a worm. Shall a worm assume the power of the great God, and think the elements will obey him? Take away this crown, I will never wear it more. May kings learn to be humble from my example, and courtiers