PUSS IN BOOTS.
A Miller, dying, divided all his property between his three children.
This was a very simple matter, as he had nothing to leave but his
mill, his ass, and his cat; so he made no will, and called in no
lawyer, who would, probably, have taken a large slice out of these
poor possessions. The eldest son took the mill, the second the ass,
while the third was obliged to content himself with the cat, at which
he grumbled very much. "My brothers," said he, "by putting their
property together, may gain an honest livelihood, but there is nothing
left for me except to die of hunger; unless, indeed, I were to kill my
cat and eat him, and make a coat out of his skin, which would be very
scanty clothing."
The cat, who heard the young man talking to himself, sat up on his
four paws, and looking at him with a grave and wise air, said,
"Master, I think you had better not kill me; I shall be much more
useful to you alive."
"How so?" asked his master.
"You have but to give me a sack, and a pair of boots such as gentlemen
wear when they go shooting, and you will find you are not so ill off
as you suppose."
Now, though the young miller did not much depend upon the cat's words,
still he thought it rather surprising that a cat should speak at all.
And he had before now seen him show so much adroitness and cleverness
in catching rats and mice, that it seemed advisable to trust him a
little farther, especially as, poor young fellow! he had nobody else
to trust.
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