A boy brought in two pretty creatures, one red and the other yellow, which he said he had found without collars. A woman had hired him and other children by paying each a few cents to do this work, which meant almost certain death to animals, believing, probably, that she was doing good. Late in the afternoon Douglas witnessed a strange, sad sight. Every cat, fifty or more, was thrown into a large cage, and poisonous gas turned in upon them. The terrified creatures huddled together, as though they knew their helplessness in the hands of their destroyers, and died. Then several men, as soon as the cats were removed, threw the shrinking, crying dogs into the cage, and they too were soon dead, piled upon each other. Douglas and the rest knew that their turn would come soon. On the second day a lady called at the refuge because her own city contemplated establishing a home (?) where dogs could be killed, the license fees to be used to pay the salaries of the S. P. C. A. agents. Her heart was touched by the appealing looks of the helpless animals. She went away and found homes for two fox-terriers, paid the license fees and fines, and the dogs were released, licking her hands, as though they realized from what they had been saved. Douglas crept towards the visitor, because he had been used to a woman’s voice. He was thin, but his eyes were as beautiful as when he was a puppy and responded to the petting of Miss Benson’s gentle hands. “You have been a handsome dog,” the lady said to Douglas, “and somebody has loved you. I know of a place for you. A noble woman who loves dogs has provided a home for the homeless, as far as her means will allow, and is devoting her life to the care of such of God’s creatures as you are. Would you like to go with me?” Douglas whined, and the other poor animals crowded around as much as to say, “Can you not take us too, and save us from death to-morrow? We cannot pay the license, but we would love and protect anybody who would pay it and take us home.” The lady could not take them all—the city and State, by reason of their wealth and humaneness, instead of license or tax, should provide homes for those committed to their keeping by the Creator. Douglas was let out, and followed the lady with a thankful heart, but with a downcast look, as though life had been so uncertain that he could not be sure of anything good in the future. The lady hired a cab, and the dog lay at her feet. They were driven to an attractive-looking brick house, with several small buildings adjoining. A young girl came to the door. “Do you wish to see the matron of the Dogs’ Home?” said the girl. “Yes, I am a friend of the matron,” said the lady, “and I have taken a fancy to a homeless dog and have brought him here to find a home.” The matron soon appeared, and, with one wild cry, Douglas sprang into her arms. It was Miss Benson, who, since she had lost Douglas, had been moved to spend her life and her fortune for other dogs who were lost.