A Crass Mashed Carol"At this restive season of the year, Mr. Scrooch," said the lady, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight sketch of the Purebred and Moggy, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common bedspreads; hundreds of thousands are in want of common butt wipes, sir.""Are there no cages?" asked Scrooch."Plenty of cages," said a lady, laying down the pen again."And the Litter boxes?" demanded Scrooch. "Are they still available?""They are. Still," returned the lady, taking the pen up again. "I will not say they are not.""The Catnip and the Scratching Posts are in full vigour, then?" said Scrooch."Both very busy, sir." "Oh! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something had occurred to stop them in their useful course," said Scrooch. "I'm very glad to hear it.""Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Feline cheer of mind or body to the pulchritude," returned the lady, "a few of us are endeavouring to capture sketches by which to see the Feline employ some posterior means of scratching. We choose this time, because it is a time, of all others, when Itch is keenly felt, and Scratching rejoices. What shall I put you down for?""Nothing!" Scrooch replied."You wish to be anonymous?""Oh, most definitely!"