OUR PUSS.

he came with the evening shades, At the close of a winter day, And her manner implied, As she trotted inside, 'I am here, and have come to stay.' Where she came from nobody knows, And no one has claimed her yet; But she made so free, It was easy to see That she had been somebody's pet. Now the homeless waif on our hearth Gives a homelike look to the place; With her warm grey fur, And her satisfied purr, And content in her comely face. She has all the craft of her race, Though she does not look like a thief, For she climbed of late Up to Charlie's plate, And calmly ate some of his beef! But we all have our little faults, And well will it be with us If, when ruin impends, We can win new friends, Like our gentle and brave stray puss.