“In less than an hour afterwards, however, she had again found an entrance into the room, and drawn close to me, but, instead of mounting the table, and rubbing herself against my hand, as before, she was now under the table, and continued to rub herself against my feet, on moving which I struck them against a something which seemed to be in their way, and, on looking down, beheld with equal grief and astonishment the dead body of her little kitten which I supposed had been alive and in good health, covered over with cinder dust.  I now entered into the entire train of this afflicted cat’s feelings.  She had suddenly lost the nursling she doated on, and was resolved to make me acquainted with it,—­assuredly that I might know her grief, and probably also that I might inquire into the cause, and, finding me too dull to understand her expressive motioning that I would follow her to the cinder heap, on which the dead kitten had been thrown, she took the great labour of bringing it to me herself, from the area on the basement floor, and up a whole flight of stairs, and laid it at my feet.  I took up the kitten in my hand, the cat still following me, made inquiry into the cause of its death, which I found, upon summoning the servants, to have been an accident, in which no one was much to blame; and the yearning mother having thus obtained her object, and gotten her master to enter into her cause, and divide her sorrows with her, gradually took comfort, and resumed her former station by my side.”

“Thank you, Harry, I do not think I ever heard that story before.  Here is one that will match it however, displaying considerable ingenuity in a cat in the protection of her young.

“A cat belonging to Mr. Stevens, of the Red Lion Hotel, Truro, having been removed from that town to a barn at some distance, soon afterwards produced four kittens.  Not wishing the stock increased, Mr. Stevens desired three of them to be drowned, next morning, before opening their eyes on the world.  Puss was deeply affected by this bereavement, and resolved on moving her remaining offspring to a place of security.  When the person appointed to feed grimalkin went with her breakfast next day, no traces of her or her kitten were to be found.  He called; but all was silent as the tomb; every corner was searched in vain; no cat was forthcoming.  Here the matter rested for several days, when, at length, early one morning, puss made her appearance in the court of her master’s house, a melancholy picture of starvation.  Having satisfied her hunger, and loitered about the house during the day, late in the evening she took her departure, carrying away some meat.  For several days she continued her visits in the same manner, taking care never to leave home empty-mouthed at night.  Her proceedings having excited attention, she was followed by two men, in one of her nocturnal retreats, and traced to the top of a wheat stack, at some distance.  On obtaining a ladder, her surviving kitten was found,