“'My cat, with regard to his meals, is a most grateful cat, and, however hungry he may be, he never thinks of eating until he has purred his thanks and rubbed his head against my hand. This trait of character was once displayed in the most affecting manner. One day 'Pret' had been shut up in the loft, on account of a lady visitor who had a strange antipathy to cats. I was going to town that day, and did not return until after midnight. As I was going upstairs I heard 'Pret's' voice calling me in a very anxious manner, and, on inquiry, I found that the poor cat had been forgotten, and had been shut up all day without a morsel of food or a drop of milk. Of course I immediately procured some milk and meat and carried it up to him. The poor creature was half wild with happiness when he heard my footsteps, and on seeing the plate of meat and saucer of milk he flew at them like a mad thing. But scarcely had he lapped a drop of milk when he left the saucer, came up to me with loud purring, and caressed me, as if to express his thanks. Then he went to the plate, but only just touched it with his nose, and again came to thank me for having attended to his wants, both of food and drink. It quite brought the moisture to my eyes to see the affectionate creature, though nearly wild with hunger and thirst, refrain from enjoying his food until he had returned thanks.'”
Mr. Graham said the Californian story reminded him of a Connecticut one, that appeared a short time before, in a New Haven paper. The story was that Mr. George Baldwin had several apple and pear trees, and last fall his cat awoke to the fact that these trees bore fruit which his master's family liked to eat.
One day in October, the cat's owner was surprised by the action of his pet. The animal was walking slowly about one of the trees, stopping every minute or two to gaze up at the apples on the boughs. After completing its tour of inspection, the cat climbed the tree, and slowly made its way out on a limb toward what was probably the ripest and largest apple of several bushels of fruit on the trees. When it reached its goal, the animal made several attempts to break the stem with its teeth, and finally succeeded. It had taken care to bite off a bit of the stem long enough to be securely held, and with its prize in its mouth the cat began its descent. Once on the ground, the apple was carried to a porch and laid by the side of a door opening into the house. The exploit was frequently repeated by Mr. Baldwin's sagacious puss, and the side of the porch was usually lined with apples.
“Did anybody ever hear,” said Charley, “of the cat that shared its dinner with its master?”
Nobody had heard of this wonderful cat, thereupon Charley read the following from the Manchester Times:
“A member of the Zoological Society says: I once had a cat who always sat up to the dinner-table with me and had his napkin round his neck, and his plate and some fish. He used his paw, of course, but he was very particular, and behaved with extraordinary decorum. When he had finished his fish I sometimes gave him a piece of mine. One day he was not to be found when the dinner bell rang, so we began without him. Just as the plates were put round for the entrée, puss came rushing upstairs and sprang into his chair with two mice in his mouth. Before he could be stopped he dropped a mouse on to his own plate, and then one on to mine. He divided his dinner with me as I had divided mine with him.”
There was a laugh all around over this amusing incident, and when it subsided, George asked what became of the mouse which the cat put on its master's plate. History seemed to be silent on that point, but whether the youth supposed the dainty was or was not devoured by the gentleman, we will not inquire. The subject was not discussed, as the attention of the party was next turned to a cat that put out a fire. The incident happened in Monongahela, Pa., and was as follows: