Alexander was taken in a large basket; one of the most reliable of the maids had charge of him, while the bird was taken by one of the family. Alexander had in every way protested against this move. He walked about the house, superintending the shutting up of rooms, with grave displeasure.
The dogs, bird, and the family soon settled themselves, and the new place assumed an air altogether homelike. Alexander was restless and morose, and the third day he was missing. They had noticed the stolid air of disapproval with which he had gone around, looking with critical eye upon the house and its surroundings. He avoided the side of the house that faced the water, proving that he did not care for sea-bathing, and the air evidently did not agree with him.
They spared neither money nor trouble in searching for him. No clew whatever could be found, and they mourned him as dead. They returned early in September to their Boston home on account of illness in the family.
They had been at home only a few days, and the house had settled into that homelike air so pleasant to returned wanderers, when one day, while they were at dinner, Alexander walked in. He was the shadow of his former self, thin, rough, and gaunt looking, the very fierce expression of his eyes making him look like a stranger.
He refused every welcome extended to him, looking at them with disdain. He marched to a table, mounted it, gave one spring, and before they could realize his purpose he put his sharp claws through the cage door and killed the little pet bird.
He looked around upon them all with an expression of satisfaction, as if to say: "Now I am satisfied. You have enjoyed the company of your pets; you have not been satisfied with going away and leaving us in our good home, but you must have another. If the little fools you took with you were willing to stay, I was not. You left me to wander, and I have taken my revenge."
The mistress was very unhappy at the loss of her pet, and demanded Alexander's life in exchange—"a life for a life." Her husband refused. He sympathized with her loss, but he stood by Alexander. The master was the only one that cat would trust. He avoided all the other members of the family, and never recovered his cheerfulness or his good looks. The iron had entered into his soul.
Where he spent the summer months remains a mystery. From the change wrought in him, it could not have been in very elevating company. But the question is, Where did he spend that time, and how did he get back to the city? Is it not a convincing fact that cats know more than they are supposed to? And if they are such intelligent beings, ought they not to be treated with humanity?
It is true they will be hunted and abused by bad children; but properly taught, might they not be made nice playmates for children, even taking the place of a nurse maid if trained to do so? It does seem right for all animals to be studied and their good traits encouraged.
Horses have been, ever since the world was formed, the friend and patient slave of man. No animal has suffered more abuse patiently borne than the horse. And now that the fools of fashion have presumed to improve on their Maker's work, clipping them, cutting their tails, and using the abominable check-rein, they are objects of pity to every right-minded person.