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37
Letters from a Cat
·
Helen Hunt Jackson
29
When
I
heard
this,
I
almost
wished
they
had
left
me
to
drown
in
the
soft
soap;
for
if
there
is
any
thing
of
which
I
have
a
mortal
dread,
it
is
water.
However,
I
was
too
weak
to
resist;
and
they
plunged
me
in
all
over,
into
the
tub
full
of
ice-cold
water,
and
Mary
began
to
rub
me
with
her
great
rough
hands,
which,
I
assure
you,
are
very
different
from
yours
and
your
mother's.
Then
they
all
laughed
again
to
see
the
white
lather
it
made;
in
two
minutes
the
whole
tub
was
as
white
as
the
water
under
the
mill-wheel
that
you
and
I
have
so
often
been
together
to
see.
You
can
imagine
how
my
eyes
smarted.
I
burnt
my
paws
once
in
getting
a
piece
of
beefsteak
out
of
the
coals
where
it
had
fallen
off
the
gridiron,
but
the
pain
of
that
was
nothing
to
this.
You
will
hardly
believe
me
when
I
tell
you
that
they
had
to
empty
the
tub
and
fill
it
again
ten
times
before
the
soap
was
all
washed
out
of
my
fur.
By
that
time
I
was
so
cold
and
exhausted,
that
I
could
not
move,
and
they
began
to
think
I
should
die.
But
your
mother
rolled
me
up
in
one
of
your
old
flannel
petticoats,
and
made
a
nice
bed
for
me
behind
the
stove.
By
this
time
even
Mary
began
to
seem
sorry
for
me,
though
she
was
very
cross
at
first,
and
hurt
me
much
more
than
she
need
to
in
washing
me;
now
she
said,
"You're
nothing
but
a
poor
beast
of
a
cat,
to
be
sure;
but
it's
mesilf
that
would
be
sorry
to
have
the
little
mistress
come
back,
and
find
ye
kilt."
So
you
see
your
love
for
me
did
me
service,
even
when
you
were
so
far
away.
I
doubt
very
much
whether
they
would
have
ever
taken
the
trouble
to
nurse
me
through
this
sickness,
except
for
your
sake.
But
I
must
leave
the
rest
for
my
next
letter.
I
am
not
strong
enough
yet
to
write
more
than
two
hours
at
a
time.
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