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. you ought to see that there is a very great difference between my catching flies and your doing it. i have noticed that you never eat them, and i have wondered that when you were always so kind to me you could be so cruel as to kill poor flies for nothing: i have often wished that i could speak to you about it: now that your dear mother has taught me to print, i shall be able to say a great many things to you which i have often been unhappy about because i could not make you understand. i am entirely discouraged about learning to speak the english language, and i do not think anybody takes much trouble to learn ours; so we cats are confined entirely to the society of each other, which prevents our knowing so much as we might; and it is very lonely too, in a place where there are so few cats kept as in amherst. if it were not for mrs. hitchcock's cat, and judge dickinson's, i should really forget how to use my tongue. when you are at home i do not mind it, for although i cannot talk to you, i understand every word that you say to me, and we have such good plays together with the red ball. that is put away now in the bottom drawer of the little workstand in the sitting-room. when your mother put it in, she turned round to me, and said, "poor pussy, no more good plays for you till helen comes home!" and i thought i should certainly cry. but i think it is very foolish to cry over what cannot be helped, so i pretended to have got something into my left eye, and rubbed it with my paw. it is very seldom that i cry over any thing, unless it is "spilt milk." i must confess, i have often cried when that has happened: and it always is happening to cats' milk. they put it into old broken things that tip over at the least knock, and then they set them just where they are sure to be most in the way. many's the time josiah has knocked over that blue saucer of mine, in the shed, and when you have thought that i had had a nice breakfast of milk, i had nothing in the world but flies, which are not good for much more than just a little sort of relish. i am so glad of a chance to tell you about this, because i know when you come home you will get a better dish for me.

i hope you found the horse-chestnuts which i put in the bottom of the carriage for you. i could not think of any thing else to put in, which would remind you of me: but i am afraid you will never think that it was i who put them there, and it will be too bad if you don't, for i had a dreadful time climbing up over the dasher with them, and both my jaws are quite lame from stretching them so, to carry the biggest ones i could find.

there are three beautiful dandelions out on the terrace, but i don't suppose they will keep till you come home. a man has been doing something to your garden, but though i watched him very closely all the time, i could not make out what he was about. i am afraid it is something you will not like; but if i find out more about it, i will tell you in my next letter. good by.

your affectionate pussy.