He came up directly to me and raised his head in such a way that the sore was exposed, and held it in this position until I had completely opened the abscess and withdrawn the lance, not crying or offering to go away from me. Now the blunt tool was torture, and it gave him no relief, yet he must have thought from my talk and manner that relief was intended, or he would never have held still for the second trial.”
“Here's a story about a steamboat cat,” said George, “which was written by somebody for the New Orleans Pickayune.”
“In July the steamer. Golden Rule arrived here from Cincinnati. A little common gray cat lived on the boat, that had been left at Bayou Sara, by accident. She had stepped on the wharf boat and had not returned in time. The officers on the Golden Rule felt sorry to lose her, for she had left three little kittens behind, who missed their mother sadly. But, to the surprise of all, the next boat that arrived down brought puss as a passenger or stowaway. She remained on board in her new quarters till near midnight, then made her way to the Golden Rule.
The watchman saw her come on board and witnessed the happy meeting between the kittens and their mother. I was a passenger on the boat as she returned to Cincinnati that trip, and puss was quite a heroine. But, alas, the temptations to visit wharf boats was so strong that she got left behind again, somewhere on the Indiana side of the Ohio, I have forgotten the town. Real grief was manifested by her friends when they missed her; they thought she was lost to them forever. On their arrival at Cincinnati, the steward left the boat, and the kittens disappeared with him. Three or four days afterward the Ariadne arrived from below, and the gray pussy came up on her. No one knows how she found out that boat was bound up the river instead of down, for other boats had stopped at that place, but only this one going up to Cincinnati. Puss was soon installed in her old home again, but the kittens were gone, and she was lonesome; so she went out on the wharf-boat and found a poor, forlorn kitten nearly as large as herself. This she carried in her mouth up into the cabin of the Golden Rule and placed it on a chair, and insisted that it should be noticed and caressed, nor would she eat until it was supplied, and she had it with her last winter.”
“That steamboat cat reminds me of one in New Haven,” said Henry, who felt that it was his turn to tell a story. “I found the anecdote in the New Haven News:
“'A curious story is told of a cat which lives on the Starin steamboat dock. The cat will occasionally take a notion to visit New York, and if driven off the boat at one place, will be seen to jump on at another, in time to avoid getting left. She will stay in New York two or three days at a time, and when her visit is concluded, will return and remain contented in New Haven for a season, until the fever for traveling comes on again. The persistency and ingenuity of the cat in boarding the boat for one of these journeys excites wonder, as the cat has a family of kittens living in New Haven. These kittens appear to be resigned to the temporary absence of their mother, but are always glad when she gets back from New York.'”
“There are many instances of the display of gratitude by cats,” Mr. Webb remarked. “One of the best I know of is told by a lady in California, as follows: