While she was in this agonizing extremity, Tom seemed to rouse from his usual state of drowsy indifference. He lay with his head between his paws, watching her earnestly for awhile; then he rose up and walked round her, evidently much disquieted. When he saw her lying stiff and cold on the floor, he made no whining noise; but his proceedings seemed to indicate that he knew what had happened. The kittens were nestled together on the platform of the old Dutch “stoop.” He went out to them, and began to lick their fur in the most affectionate manner. After that, he was never seen to knock them about, and never heard to growl at them. Their own mother could not have treated them with more tenderness, or submitted to their gambols with more patience. Apparently, they mistook the gruff old fellow for their mother; for they went to him for nourishment, and he made no resistance. Again and again, I saw him stretched on the floor of the “stoop,” while the kittens appeared to be sucking with all diligence, moving their little paws, as if satisfied and happy. This circumstance, of course, excited surprise in the family. One asked another whether it was possible that they obtained milk, or whether they drew blood for their sustenance. Tom never gave any indications of suffering inconvenience from this singular imitation of the maternal office. He must have nourished them in _some_ way; for they did not learn to lap milk for several days; yet they lived, and seemed comfortable and thriving. After Tom took upon himself the care of the orphans, he seemed to become really fond of them, and to enjoy the frolics that had formerly made him so angry. The voluntary exercise of benevolence improved his temper wonderfully for the time being, and evidently made him a much happier cat.