258 THE FIRESIDE SPHINX 



to shore. When Lusby's Music Hall in London 

 was burned in 1884, it chanced that a cat belonging 

 to the proprietor had recently kittened, and her lit' 

 tie family lay in a basket at the rear of the stage. 

 Three times that cat made her way through the 

 smoke and fire, and reappeared, carrying a kit- 

 ten in her mouth. The third time she was so 

 terribly scorched as to be unrecognizable ; she was 

 blind, and of her beautiful fur hardly a patch was 

 left. A fireman in sheer pity tried to catch the 

 creature ; but she leaped from his hands, and went 

 straight back into the flames after the fourth kitten. 

 That she reached it was proven by the two little 

 bodies, burned to a crisp, that were found lying 

 side by side when the fire was extinguished. It 

 would be impossible to surpass the heroism of that 

 London cat. Human mothers have done as much. 

 It does not lie in the power of man or woman to do 

 more. 



In their ordinary family relations, cats show af- 

 fection, consideration, and politeness. Paternity, 

 which we stupidly imagine to be ignored, carries 

 with it responsibilities that the father, when he is 

 an honoured member of the home circle, never 

 dreams of neglecting. M. Gautier found that the 

 father's interest in his offspring was unremitting ; 

 and I once knew an English Tom who took the 

 athletic training of his children entirely upon his 



