FELINE MOURNERS.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."]
Sia,—Knowing your regard for animals—even for the despised cat—I send you two cognate anecdotes, and ask you or your readers if they can throw any light on the matter of the expres- sion of grief by animals. I had a favourite Angora cat, who died after a week of suffering, the result of an accident. During his illness, his mother, a fine old cat of the ordinary sort, was often with him ; but she was not present at the time of his death. He died late in the evening, and was taken into the cellar, to await his burial the next day. When he was brought up, stiff and cold, in a box, his mother was taken to see him ; she gave one look, uttered a shriek, and ran away.
On relating this circumstance to a lady, she told me that there was a pet cat in her family, who was very fond of this lady's mother. When the latter was in her last illness, the cat was continually with her, lying on the bed. The lady died, and the cat was, of course, not again admitted to the room, though presenting herself again and again at the door. When the coffin was being carried down stairs, the cat happened to appear, and, on seeing it, uttered a shriek. In both these cases, the sound made was entirely unlike those made by cats under any circumstances, unless it be the cry made when in sudden pain. In the latter case, the most remarkable part remains to be told. The cat went to the funeral, and then disappeared for many days. But after that, she repeatedly attended funerals in the same cemetery, walking before the clergyman, her
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