“'In the race of five and a quarter miles, which was reported to have been made in the short time of thirteen minutes, the colt jumped several cow gaps, crossed numerous small trestles, and ran around one or two bridges.'”
Charley's mention of the friendship between a horse and a cat naturally turned the conversation in the direction of cats, and led to several stories about those domestic favorites. We will give some of these anecdotes in the next chapter. Before the conference broke up, George asked a question which he had seen in a newspaper: “Is there any future life for animals?”
Mr. Graham said he had never given the subject a thought, and had no opinion to offer. He read the following, which was written for Our Dumb Animals by George T. Angell, in answer to the question, in the very words in which George had asked it:—
“We answer, John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, thought there was. So did those eminent Christian Bishops, Jeremy Taylor and Butler. Coleridge advocated it in England, Lamartine in France, and Agassiz in America. Agassiz, the greatest scientist we ever had on this continent, was a firm believer in some future life for the lower animals. A professor of Harvard University, has compiled a list of one hundred and eighty-five European authors who have written on the subject. Among the leading clergy in Boston, who have publicly expressed their belief in a future life for animals, are Joseph Cook, Trinitarian, and James Freeman Clark, Unitarian. Some years ago a man left by will for Mr. Bergh's Society, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Relatives contested the will on the ground that he was insane because he believed in a future life for animals. The judge, in sustaining the will, said that he found that more than half of the human race believed the same thing.”
“Why do I love horses? Listen, and I will tell you,” said a gentleman, whom the author of this volume has known for nearly twenty years. He is a prominent man of business in New York, but modestly declines to have his name in print, so we will call him Mr. A..
“When a boy, living at home on a Vermont farm, my father owned a pair of spirited grays, one being a special pet, never seeming weary and never refusing to go anywhere or to do any service asked of him. His mate was of the other sort, sulky, ugly, and a thorough shirk. My pet had formed a strong personal attachment for me, would always whinney when he heard my step, in fact seemed to have the love of a dog for his master.
“Coming down the mountain with a heavy load, by a road plowed out for a single track, and snow three feet and more deep on either side, we met an old gentleman and lady in a single cutter, who could not or thought they could not, turn from the road to allow us to pass.