Brought from a New York village to this college town, she adapted herself to her new home with the ready pliability of youth, became everybody’s pet in general, her master’s in particular, and was in all ways a thoroughly charming, though whimsical baby-cat. Her virtues were all her own, while her faults, like those of other kittens, were doubtless due to there being no kittychism. Such is the reason a modern writer assigns for feline errors, and it carries with it conviction. As the kitten is bent, the cat will certainly be inclined. Pussy’s course in life was destined to be brief as brilliant. In the spring of ‘77, Dr. Hill was absent a fortnight. He came back to find his small friend dead. He had left her vivacious and merry--now she was only “a body.” “Poor Kitty,” he wrote, “was well and happy while I was with her. I really think she pined and died as much from loneliness as anything else.” To say that she was missed, is idle; it could not be otherwise with so bright and loving a creature. Love wins love, the world over, and where love comes, love follows. Our poor little Pussy’s heart was all her master’s; it resulted that in his heart was a corner all her own. Her body was sent, in the interests of science, to Prof. Ward of Rochester, N. Y., and by him the skeleton was prepared and mounted. It is now in the museum at Princeton College; so that Pussy remains as serviceable after death as it was her warm will to be in life. _VIII._ _AN ODD SET._ VIII. AN ODD SET. Our exclusive world is apt to choose its pets like its garments--in accordance with the fashion of the day. Still, there are always a few people who prefer choosing for themselves; and from this independence queer intimacies often result. Accident, too, not infrequently cuts the knot of custom; while, furthermore, it is true of all that propinquity works wonders. We come by degrees to like what we live with; and discover merits on long acquaintance that a shorter one would not reveal.