<h2 id="c16">A CATASTROPHE IN HIGH LIFE.</h2>
<p>Tertius, as his name signifies, was the
third Maltese cat to occupy a very warm
place in the hearts of a certain pet-loving
family that lived on a quiet, tree-shaded
street in a beautiful Eastern city.</p>
<p>His predecessors were both noted for
their wonderful sagacity and great
achievements, so he felt that he must improve
all his opportunities if he was to
keep up to their high standard. Just
how they had obtained their reputation
he did not know, and perhaps it was this
ignorance that caused him to make his
fatal mistake.</p>
<p>The beautiful house in which he lived
had a large veranda on one side, over
which ran a grapevine, and in this grapevine
a pair of robins, most unwisely, decided
to build their nest.</p>
<p>“It is a very beautiful spot,” said Mrs.
Robin.</p>
<p>“Yes, and that arrangement in the center
there will be splendid to lay the foundation
on,” replied Mr. Robin.</p>
<p>“It is so picturesque,” returned Mrs.
R., in a rapture of delight.</p>
<p>“And there will be such a nice shade
for you, my dear, when the leaves are
out,” added the thoughtful husband.</p>
<p>“It is a much finer situation than Mr.
and Mrs. English Sparrow have for their
nest in the eaves up above. Don’t you
think so, Rob?”</p>
<p>“Indeed I do, wifey; but we must to
work, for the morning is advancing.
Now, you stay here, while I fly off and
get the material.”</p>
<p>In a very few days as pretty a little
nest was in the spot selected as you would
want to see. Mr. Robin had brought all
the material, while his helpful little wife
had constructed the nest.</p>
<p>All this time their movements had been
watched by the large, admiring, but
greedy eyes of the ambitious Tertius, and
one morning the chance he had so patiently
waited for came. Mr. Robin started
out, thinking in his kind little heart
that he would get “little wifey” a particularly
large and tasty worm for her
breakfast, and he was so intent in scratching
in the newly turned garden for it that
he did not see the slyly, softly creeping
Tertius. One bound, and poor little Rob
was caught. He screamed, he scolded,
but all to no purpose. Now was Tertius
proud. He would carry his prize to his
mistress, and she would surely say that
his skill and prowess was far beyond that
of either of his illustrious ancestors. So,
thinking, with arched back and curling
tail, he hastily gained the house and at
once carried his prize to his mistress’
room. But alas for his well-laid plans!
Alas for the praise he had looked for!
Instead, to his intense surprise and anger,
he was greeted with a cry of pain
and alarm. The mistress who should
have praised rated him well, the hand
that should have stroked his smooth coat
wrenched his prize from him. In his
anger he tried to scratch her in return,
but she had been too quick for him, and
Robin was saved. Tenderly he was laid
in a bed of cotton and placed on an upper
veranda, once more in the sweet, balmy
air. Cautiously he lifted his head, and
as no shining green eyes or sharp paw
were to be seen, ventured to hop to the
edge of the basket in which his kind preserver
had placed him. One more look
around and he stretched out his wings
and soared away.</p>
<p>“Oh, my dear Rob! I heard your cry.
Where have you been? Do tell me all
about it!” exclaimed Mrs. Robin on Mr.
Robin’s return, and he, in a most graphic
manner, granted her request; but, as we
already know all about it, we won’t stay
to listen.</p>
<p>As to Tertius, he has decided that to
win his way to fame he must confine
himself in the future to a war on mice.</p>
<p><span class="lr"><span class="sc">M. Leila Dawson.</span></span></p>
<div class="fig"> id="fig6"> <ANTIMG src="images/i11205.jpg" alt="" width-obs="802" height-obs="500" /> <p class="caption">DOMESTIC CAT. <br/>(Felis domestica.)</p> </div>
<div class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</div>
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