242 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



who shine in Sunday-school fiction. Thus a lady 

 living near Belfast writes that, when she was ill, her 

 devoted cat went poaching for her every day, brav 

 ing the terrors of the law that he might provide 

 her with the partridges her delicate constitution 

 demanded, but which her purse was unequal to buy 

 ing. He never touched the stolen birds himself, 

 having more conscience in the matter than his mis 

 tress ; and, when she had recovered and desired 

 no more, he ceased his benevolent depredations. 

 Elizabeth Kurd s rabbit-hunting beast, to whom 

 she felt such life-long gratitude, sinks into insignifi 

 cance alongside of this Irish Puss-in-Boots. 



As for the astounding instances of feline gener 

 osity which we are daily requested to consider, they 

 would lead us to suppose that cats live only to do 

 good. Gautier s little Bohemian, who shared his 

 dinner occasionally with disreputable friends out of 

 pure love for low company, shines but dimly by 

 comparison with the small Saint Elizabeths, who 

 apparently have no use for their dinners save to 

 give them to all the poor and starving cats in the 

 neighbourhood. 



M. Jumelin, for example, tells us of his own 

 Angora who every day fed out of her allowance a 

 hungry companion ; and Mr. Larrabee is responsi 

 ble for the edifying history of a Norman cat whose 

 conscience was troubled by the overabundance of 



