We must also lessen the number of theological books, and choose the best; for it is not the number of books that make the learned man; nor much reading, but good books often read, however few, make a man learned in the Scriptures and pious. – Martin Luther

Letters from a cat, published by her mistress for the benefit of all cats and the amusement of little children by Helen Hunt Jackson

Letters from a cat, published by her mistress for the benefit of all cats and the amusement of little children by Helen Hunt Jackson

The provenance (orgin) of these seven letters is not altogether certain. Says Jackson:

I do not feel wholly sure that my Kitty wrote these letters herself. They always came inside the letters written to me by my mama, or other friends, and I never caught Kitty writing at any time when I was at home; but the printing was pretty bad, and they were signed by Kitty’s name; and my mama always looked very mysterious when I asked about them, as if there were some very great secret about it all; so that until I grew to be a big girl, I never doubted but that Kitty printed them all alone by herself, after dark.

They were written when I was a very little girl, and was away from home with my father on a journey. We made this journey in our own carriage, and it was one of the pleasantest things that ever happened to me. My clothes and my father’s were packed in a little leather valise which was hung by straps…

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From Letter 1

My Dear Helen:

That is what your mother calls you, I know, for I jumped up on writing-table just now, and looked, while she was out of the room; and I am sure I have as much right to call you so as she has, for if you were my own little kitty, and looked just like me, I could not love you any more than I do. How many good naps I have had in your lap! and how many nice bits of meat you have saved for me out of your own dinner! Oh, I’ll never let a rat, or a mouse, touch any thing of yours so long as I live.

I felt very unhappy after you drove off yesterday, and did not know what to do with myself. I went into the barn, and thought I would take a nap on the hay, for I do think going to sleep is one of the very best things for people who are unhappy; but it seemed so lonely without old Charlie stamping in his stall that I could not bear it, so I went into the garden, and lay down under the damask rose- bush, and caught flies. There is a kind of fly round that bush which I like better than any other I ever ate…

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