and Pussy, in a basket, went with them.

"Just what she needed: a change of air and scene to wean her away
from her former owners and make her happy."

The basket was lifted into a Rumble-shaker. New sounds and
passing smells were entered and left. A turn in the course was
made. Then a roaring of many feet, more swinging of the basket; a
short pause, another change of direction, then some clicks, some
bangs, a long shrill whistle, and door-bells of a very big front
door; a rumbling, a whizzing, an unpleasant smell, a hideous
smell, a growing horrible, hateful choking smell, a deadly,
griping, poisonous stench, with roaring that drowned poor Kitty's
yowls, and just as it neared the point where endurance ceased,
there was relief. She heard clicks and clacks. There was light;
there was air. Then a man's voice called, "All out for 125th
Street," though of course to Kitty it was a mere human bellow.
The roaring almost ceased--did cease. Later the rackety-bang was
renewed with plenty of sounds and shakes, though not the
poisonous gas; a long, hollow, booming roar with a pleasant dock
smell was quickly passed, and then there was a succession of
jolts, roars, jars, stops, clicks, clacks, smells, jumps, shakes,
more smells, more shakes,--big shakes, little shakes,--gases,
smokes, screeches, door-bells, tremblings, roars, thunders, and
some new smells, raps, taps, heavings, rumblings, and more
smells, but all without any of the feel that the direction is
changed. When at last it stopped, the sun came twinkling through
the basket-lid. The Royal Cat was lifted into a Rumble-shaker of
the old familiar style, and, swerving aside from their past
course, very soon the noises of its wheels were grittings and