the kitchen rocking-chair was at some disadvantage, when puss from beneath clawed up at spasmodic and unexpected intervals. I sacrificed the chair to see it through, and called the family. With crest erect and wings distended, in a paroxysm of rage, Polly endeavored to balance herself on the wobbly chair-back, parry the thrusts from below and get in a few straight jabs herself. She made the mistake loquacity always makes in taking time for superfluous remarks. She dissipated energy in disordered observations unsuitable to the occasion.
It was no time to explain her preference for crackers or request the onlookers to stroke her head. Allowances must be made of course for the exigencies of a limited vocabulary, but it did seem to be carrying things too far for that irate fowl to stand up to her full height, red anger riding her like a hag, and call in a gentle, high-pitched voice "Kitty, Kitty, Kitty," while the object of her adjurations lurked below waiting an opportune moment in which to scratch out a clawful of feathers.
Polly is no more. She departed this life suddenly and inexplicably after her kind, one
