“In the summer of 1792, a gentleman who lived near Portsmouth, in England, had a favorite cat, with a family of kittens. As he did not wish so large an increase to his family, he ordered all the kittens to be drowned.

“The same day, the cat was missing, and, on farther search, one chicken also.“Diligent search was made in every place that could be thought of, but in vain. Day after day passed, and at last the gentleman concluded some accident had deprived them of life.

“Nearly a week after the kittens had been drowned, a servant had occasion to go to an unfrequented part of the cellar, where, to his great astonishment, he saw the cat lying in one corner, with the chicken hugged close to her body, and one paw laid over it as if to protect it from injury.

“Puss and her adopted chicken were brought into a closet in the kitchen, where they continued some time, the cat treating her little charge in every respect as a kitten. Whenever the chicken left the cat to eat the soft dough provided for it, she appeared very uneasy, but on its return, received it with the affection of a mother, purred, and presented the appearance of being perfectly happy.

“The gentleman, being curious to know whether the affection of puss was returned by her protege, carried it to the hen, the cat following with loud cries of distress. But on being released, the chicken at once returned to her attached friend, who received her with enthusiastic delight.

“Some time after, the chicken was, by some accident, killed, and, though another one was tendered her, the cat pined, and was inconsolable for the loss of her favorite.”

“O, father,” cried Minnie, her face glowing with excitement, “wasn’t that strange? I mean to try Fidelle, and see whether she likes chickens.”

“More likely she’ll make a meal of them,” said the lady, laughing. “At any rate, your story only proves my opinion of cats, as thieving, mischievous creatures, to be true. Even she stole a chicken from the hen, the rightful owner of it, and alienated its affections from its own mother.”

“But all her kittens had been taken away from her, and pussies must have something to love, as well as people,” exclaimed Minnie, while her quivering lip and flushed cheeks showed how much she was in earnest in what she said.

“My dear,” remarked her father, “the lady is only joking, to carry out her side of the argument, which, when I have read farther, I am sure she will see is a weak one.”

“Here is a case just in point.”

“A lady had a tame bird which she was in the habit of letting out of its cage every day. When at liberty, it would fly to the top of the mirror, or on the picture frames, and then to the floor, to pick up crumbs.

“One morning, as it was busily picking crumbs of bread from the carpet, her cat, who had always before showed great kindness for the bird, suddenly seized it, and jumped with it in her mouth upon the table.

“The lady screamed, being greatly alarmed for the safety of her favorite; but on turning about, instantly discovered the cause. The door had been left open, and a strange cat had just come into the room.

“After turning it out, her own cat came down from her place of safety, and dropped the bird on the carpet without doing it the smallest injury; for it commenced again picking crumbs, as if nothing alarming had occurred.”

“What do you say to that, Mrs. Belcher?” inquired Mr. Lee, earnestly.

“I must confess,” she answered, “that was the most sensible puss I ever heard of. She certainly did a good deed, and ought to have been commended for it.”

“She showed presence of mind in danger,” added the gentleman, “an affection for the bird with which she daily associated, and gratitude for the kindness of her mistress, who had, no doubt, treated her tenderly.”

“Now here is another case.”

“In the parish of Stonington, Surrey, England, a man was passing through a hay field in the month of September, 1793, when he was surprised to see a cat and a hare playing together in the hay. He stood more than ten minutes gratified at the unusual sight, when the hare, alarmed at seeing a stranger approach, ran into a thicket of fern, and was followed by the cat.”

“I’m sure, father, Fidelle and Tiney are good friends,” cried Minnie, exultingly. “They often play together.”

“Tiney is getting too fat and lazy to play much with any body,” remarked Mrs. Lee, smiling.

“Will you please read more, father?”

Mr. Lee was looking over the book, and laughed heartily.“Do please read it aloud, father,” again urged Minnie.

The gentleman commenced.

“In 1806, Mr. Peter King, of Islington, had two large cats, which used to sit at table with him. They were waited upon by servants, and partook of the same dainties in which he indulged himself.

“Mr. King was a great admirer of fine clothes, richly laced, and of making a display. One day, as he sat eating, with his cats for company, he thought, perhaps, they might like liveries, as well as he did. He accordingly sent for the tailor, when he had them measured for their suits. The clothes were speedily sent home, and the cats wore them for the rest of their lives.”

“That doesn’t prove much for you,” remarked Mrs. Belcher, archly.

“It only shows there are some foolish cats as well as some foolish men. But whatever we may think on the subject, the king of Guinea, once thought a cat so valuable that he gladly gave a man his weight in gold if he would procure him one, and with it an ointment to kill flies.

“A Portuguese, named Alphonse, was the happy individual; and he so well improved the money he made by the trade, that after fifteen years of traffic, he returned to Portugal, and became the third man in rank and wealth in the kingdom. All that for the despised cat.”

“O, I don’t despise them in their place!” urged the lady. “They are good to keep the cellar and out buildings free from those troublesome animals, rats and mice. But I never could make a pet of a cat.”

“Nor eat one, I suppose,” he added, roguishly.“No, indeed,” with an expression of contempt.

“They are thought by some to make a delicious meal,” he went on with mock gravity. “A fricassee, for instance. Here is a recipe for the cooking:—

“Skin the cat thoroughly, cut it in pieces, and soak twenty-four hours in vinegar; then anoint it with garlic and honey, after which it is fried like a young chicken.”

“Horrible!” exclaimed Mrs. Belcher; while Mrs. Lee confessed, much as she esteemed cats, she could not relish such a meal.

“Is it possible they are ever used for such a purpose?” she inquired presently.

“Certainly, my dear; among the negroes they are considered a great dainty, and Goethe, in his ‘Rifleman’s Comrade,’ said the soldiers at Palmero ate them with a relish.”