cooked to order. Upon asking him what his name was, he proudly replied,
"Lord Roberts." Two friends of mine (street cats) who were listening,
turned aside to snicker, and when I looked fiercely around pretended that
they were only sneezing. One ventured to ask him if he had his
coat-of-arms engraved on his collar and the other offered to exchange
visiting cards. He saw that they were making fun of him and it hurt his
feelings, for I saw him turn away and wipe his eye with one paw, as he had
evidently left his lace handkerchief at home. They stepped on his toes and
pushed him about with the intention of picking a fight with him, but he
had no fighting blood, so they finally let him alone. I tried to assist
him to find his home, but the majesty of the law intervened, and he was
carried away in the arms of a stalwart policeman who knew, probably, of
the reward.

This incident opened my eyes to the possibility of a home and made me long
for one, but my affairs became worse instead of better. I soon reached the
lowest ebb of despair and if it had not been that I had only one remaining
life, I should have been tempted to end my existence.

I was sitting down by the docks one day looking at the dirty green water,
which, by the way, did not appeal to me for suicidal purposes, when I was
accosted by a kind faced lady who held out her hand to me saying, "You
poor homeless creature, come with me." Could it be possible that anyone
wanted me? I could not believe my senses. She drew nearer. I crouched, as
everyone who had spoken to me recently had either kicked or sworn at me or
ordered me away in language more forcible than elegant. Consequently I was
rather doubtful, not knowing whether the hand held out to me would strike
or caress.

I looked into her face once more, and seeing peace and happiness there,