A week passed and the tears of sorrow had been wiped from the children's eyes and apprehension for the fate of the six homeless kittens had been effaced by newer incidents, when one of them, standing on the stoop that looked on the long garden at the back of the house, beheld a spec- tacle that made her scream with terror. Haggard, famished, with eyes of piteous appeal and awful suffering, coming almost in a line, with "fainting steps and slow," a ghastly and spectral regiment, came up the avenue toward the child, not the six, but three out of the six kittens. The one that had been kept was purring and playing in a child-nurse's arms, its fur glossy, its eyes full of delighted mischief, — what should it know, in the lap of luxury, of pain, exposure, star- vation and death ? — while the three of its brothers and sisters, who seemed to have returned from another world, were the most woe- begone of living skeletons. What had become of the other three? Doubtless, they had fainted on the long journey and died forlornly. Better for them had it been if the jury of children had followed their papa's suggestion of the pail of water. But the voice of nature for- bade all further ostracism of the three poor wanderers, one of whom died within an hour in spite of warmth and milk. They were ad- mitted once more to the family circle, and their untold adventures 340 THE hearthstone; or, life at home. during their week of absence were the mysterious talk of the nursery on many a winter's evening. This anecdote, which I have told in tragic style, is simply true, and the question to be asked, not answered, is : By what mysterious intui- tion, since the way had never been seen or known by them, had these three kittens walked back eight miles from a country plain during that week of misery ? Experience could not have helped them, for they had been tied up in a bag at the bottom of the wagon, and taken a road they had never travelled before. Reason could no more have helped them than experience, if reason implies knowledge as a start- ing point. Induction and deduction alike fail to bring those kittens home. Instinct must have done it, that instinct which, as Antigone declared of natural love, is beyond all law; that instinct which brings back the carrier dove with messages on its wings and makes the bloodhound's nostrils a surer guide than all the deep-laid schemes of the detective in tracking the fugitive from justice. In the home circle, the cat and kitten are much esteemed, yet, like many noble families among ourselves, it is not easy to see any great intellectual, moral, or physical superiority in them. Catching mice is scarcely ground enough for placing the cat among the aristocracy of animals. They are sometimes affectionate and seem to take a kindly intt*rest in the family, but their affection is not so disinterested as that of dogs. They are not forgiving. A dog's affection will sur- vive the harshest treatment, but a cat never forgets a punishment and rarely in its heart forgives it. One has only to witness a per- sonal encounter between cat and dog to be impressed with the superior cunning of the former and the greater courage of the latter. The cat's main purpose in her strategy seems to be to " scratch his eyes out," but the dog is content if he leave his war prints on her tail.

AI-modernized reading of the original text

A week passed and the tears of sorrow had been wiped from the children's eyes and apprehension for the fate of the six homeless kittens had been effaced by newer incidents, when one of them, standing on the stoop that looked on the long garden at the back of the house, beheld a spectacle that made her scream with terror. Haggard, famished, with eyes of piteous appeal and awful suffering, coming almost in a line, with "fainting steps and slow," a ghastly and spectral regiment, came up the avenue toward the child, not the six, but three out of the six kittens. The one that had been kept was purring and playing in a child-nurse's arms, its fur glossy, its eyes full of delighted mischief, — what should it know, in the lap of luxury, of pain, exposure, starvation and death ? — while the three of its brothers and sisters, who seemed to have returned from another world, were the most woebegone of living skeletons. What had become of the other three? Doubtless, they had fainted on the long journey and died forlornly. Better for them had it been if the jury of children had followed their papa's suggestion of the pail of water. But the voice of nature forbade all further ostracism of the three poor wanderers, one of whom died within an hour in spite of warmth and milk. They were admitted once more to the family circle, and their untold adventures 340 THE hearthstone; or, life at home. during their week of absence were the mysterious talk of the nursery on many a winter's evening. This anecdote, which I have told in tragic style, is simply true, and the question to be asked, not answered, is : By what mysterious intuition, since the way had never been seen or known by them, had these three kittens walked back eight miles from a country plain during that week of misery ? Experience could not have helped them, for they had been tied up in a bag at the bottom of the wagon, and taken a road they had never travelled before. Reason could no more have helped them than experience, if reason implies knowledge as a starting point. Induction and deduction alike fail to bring those kittens home. Instinct must have done it, that instinct which, as Antigone declared of natural love, is beyond all law; that instinct which brings back the carrier dove with messages on its wings and makes the bloodhound's nostrils a surer guide than all the deep-laid schemes of the detective in tracking the fugitive from justice. In the home circle, the cat and kitten are much esteemed, yet, like many noble families among ourselves, it is not easy to see any great intellectual, moral, or physical superiority in them. Catching mice is scarcely ground enough for placing the cat among the aristocracy of animals. They are sometimes affectionate and seem to take a kindly interest in the family, but their affection is not so disinterested as that of dogs. They are not forgiving. A dog's affection will survive the harshest treatment, but a cat never forgets a punishment and rarely in its heart forgives it. One has only to witness a personal encounter between cat and dog to be impressed with the superior cunning of the former and the greater courage of the latter. The cat's main purpose in her strategy seems to be to " scratch his eyes out," but the dog is content if he leave his war prints on her tail.

The hearthstone; or, Life at home