[Illustration:  Naughty Willie.]

NED BENTLY’S TEMPTATION.

When Ned Bently was a boy of about fifteen years of age he lost both of his parents by yellow fever, in New Orleans.  The only remaining relative he had was a bachelor uncle, living in the mining regions of California.  Ned worked his way on board a ship, as a sailor boy, to San Francisco, and finally arrived at the diggings where his uncle was engaged in mining.  In those early days of California mine digging the miners were generally a very rough class of men.  So it happened that soon after Ned’s arrival a great gruff “digger” offered to treat Ned to a drink of liquor, and became very angry because he refused to touch it.

Ned scarcely shut his eyes all that night, for he was dreadfully afraid that the miners might yet force him to drink of that which he had been taught was certain ruin to body and soul.  But to Ned’s great surprise and joy, next morning the very man who the night before had offered to treat him took a bold stand in his defense against the other miners’ attempts to force him to drink.

“The lad’s about right,” said the gruff old digger.  “If he can live out here without drinkin’ liquor, he’ll be able to buy and sell the whole of ye by’n’by.”  And so it proved, for Ned held fast to his resolution not to drink, and became one of the wealthiest mine owners in California.

[Illustration:  Ned refusing to drink with the miners.]

“Hodge.”

Many have a dislike to cats; but when boys say they hate cats, it is to be feared that they mostly do so that they may have an excuse for hunting and ill-treating them.  In some cases, however, there is a natural antipathy which those who possess it cannot help, though it seems very foolish and unreasonable.

James Boswell tells us that he was “unluckily one of those who have an antipathy to a cat,” so that he was uneasy when in a room with one.  It certainly was rather unlucky, for he was writing the life of Dr. Johnson, and wishing to be as much in his company as possible was frequently at his house.  Now the Doctor had a favorite tomcat whom he called “Hodge,” and Boswell relates how he “suffered from the presence of this same Hodge.”

He says, “I recollect him one day scrambling up Dr. Johnson’s breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend, smiling and half whistling, rubbed down his back and pulled him by the tail, and when I observed that he was a fine cat, saying, ’Why, yes, Sir, but I have had cats whom I liked better than this,’ and then, as if perceiving Hodge to be out of countenance, he added!  ’But he’s a very fine cat; a very fine cat, indeed.’”

Hodge was well taken care of, and did not have to catch rats for a living, for the Doctor was in the habit of treating him to oysters.