In Florence, a cloister near St. Lorenzo's Church serves as a refuge for
cats. It is an ancient and curious institution, but I am unable to find
whether it is maintained by the city or by private charities. There are
specimens of all colors, sizes, and kinds, and any one who wants a cat
has but to go there and ask for it. On the other hand, the owner of a
cat who is unable or unwilling to keep it may take it there, where it is
fed and well treated.
In Rome, they have a commendable system of caring for their cats. At a
certain hour butchers' men drive through the city, with carts well
stocked with cat's meat. They utter a peculiar cry which the cats
recognize, and come hurrying out of the houses for their allowances,
which are paid for by the owners at a certain rate per month.
In Boston, during the summer of 1895, a firm of butchers took
subscriptions from philanthropic citizens, and raised enough to defray
the expenses of feeding the cats on the Back Bay,--where, in spite of
the fact that the citizens are all wealthy and supposedly humane, there
are more starving cats than elsewhere in the city. But the experiment
has not been repeated.
Hospitals for sick animals are no new thing, but a really comfortable
home for cats is an enterprise in which many a woman who now asks
despondently what she can do in this overcrowded world to earn a living,
might find pleasant and profitable.
A most worthy charity is that of the Animal Rescue League in Boston,
which was started by Mrs.
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