“Heigho! ‘How soon we are forgot,’ as old Rip Van Winkle so truly said. Well, I soon found myself homeless and a vagabond once more. I have since had all sorts of luck--mostly bad, however. I have tried my hand at almost everything, but have never been able to secure another comfortable position. I was a lawyer’s cat for a while, but my family pride came to my rescue after a time, and I quit the job. There is blue blood in my veins, Fido, and though I may be down on my luck, I have not quite lost my self-respect.” “Ah! you are boasting of blue blood nowadays, are you, Tommy? How does that happen?” asked Fido. “Why, don’t you know about the cats that were found in the pyramids along with Rameses and his folks?” asked Tommy. “You ought to read up, my dear Fido.” “Have you ever heard from the doctor’s folks since their home was broken up?” asked Fido. “Oh, yes; I have kept track of them right along. The doctor’s wife finally married again and the children came home to live with her soon afterward. I called at their house one night, and was unceremoniously kicked out. Johnny and Ethel were grown-up folks and had no use for cats any more, besides, they didn’t know me from Adam. I was just a tramp cat, that was all, and was treated like any other vagrant. “But I have got used to hard lines, and so long as I can capture an occasional rat, I suppose I will be able to live. Once in a while a nice pet canary or toothsome young chicken comes my way; then there is great joy in the department of the interior. “My health is none of the best, at times, and I don’t believe I shall live many years, but the sooner to sleep the sooner to rest, and I know that brave old Towser and dear little Harry are waiting for me up yonder. Towser is still a loyal old dog, and Harry is not grown-up folks, like Johnny and Ethel, but a sweet, winsome little baby boy as of old. “Well, Fido, old comrade, I have told you my story, and it is now nearly midnight, so we must say good night. There is nobody to complain when _I_ keep late hours, but it’s different with you. Good jobs are scarce, and I don’t want you to risk losing yours. I will see you next Tuesday evening if you like. “Hello! it’s raining. There’s a cold wind blowing too. Awful weather for the rheumatism and mange, isn’t it? You’ll get that pretty blanket wet, Fido, my boy.” “Oh, drat the blanket!” said Fido, “I’ll hurry along though. Good night, Tommy.” “Good night, Fido, good night.” JOHNNY A STORY OF THE PHILIPPINES