PUSSY’S VOCAL LESSON.

My elocution lesson I didn’t quite enjoy; You’d scarcely guess the reason, ’twas a little teasing boy. Wee Rob, my naughty nephew, would listen to it all, And mimic in a manner that made me feel quite small, The motions and the gestures, the swayings and the bounds, The consonants explosive, the open vowel-sounds. And then he’d tell his kitty, in jolly boyish play, Just how I said the letters “P,” “T,” “Z,” “S,” and “K.” One morn came Uncle Charlie, with Nero by his side, A big Newfoundland beauty, our uncle’s pet and pride. Toward kitty Nero sauntered with stately doggish grace, She spit and hissed like fury right in his friendly face. Astonished and disgusted, no word did Nero say, Scorn on his noble features, he turned and walked away. And Snowball swelled her body, with all her feline might, Her back looked like a camel’s, she was a funny sight. “You spitfire,” shouted uncle, “you bristling bunch of rage! If you were mine I’d whip you and put you in a cage!” “My kitty is no spitfire” (Rob’s eyes with mischief glowed), “She says them ’splosive letters as fast as she can ’splode.” “Oh, now I see,” laughed uncle, “please pardon me, my dear, ’Twas pussy’s vocal lesson I happened then to hear. You’ve done it well, brave pussy” (he smoothed her ruffled back), “Although your tones are faulty, you’ve learned the right attack.”