Not Good For Any Known Dish, When You Are Dead!

THE CAT AND THE HARE.

“Puss, puss!” said Tiny, going up to the sleeping beauty, “good morning to you.”  “Oh, good morning; how are you?” replied Puss, “I really did not see you, for I was half asleep after being up all night at a mouse party.”

“Indeed,” said Tiny, “was it amusing?”  “Yes, to me,” said the Cat slyly, with a very slight wink, “not to them.”  “Ah!  I understand,” said Tiny.  “Oh, Puss, Puss!”  “Did you call me?” said a pert young Hare, peeping out from under a large leaved plant.  “You,”  said the Cat, looking down with contempt – “you, Puss.”  “Yes, indeed, I am called Puss in the highest circles,” sharply replied the Hare.

“You are a gipsey, a mere country tramp,” replied the Cat, “without any claim to honest Cat-hood; where is your tail, friend?  Cat, indeed!”  “Tail! Pooh!” said the Hare, “that would be of very little use to me, but just look at my lovely ears; pray, where are yours?”  The Cat did not deign to reply, but rubbed her nose with her paw.

“You talk to me!” said the Hare, pertly.  “I, who am sought after by the highest people in the land, and am often at their tables!  I live at large on my own estate, as good a gentleman as any of them; whilst you, are a short-eared, long-tailed servant, living upon the mice, or anything, you can catch; and not good for any known dish, when you are dead!  Ha, ha, ha!  Puss, indeed!  You are a mouse trap.”  So saying, he struck his foot smartly upon the ground, and trotted away.

Tiny and Her Vanity.

McLoughlin Bros.: New York. 1892.