hilosophy. The highest of all
knowledge is to know that we know nothing.'

The Cat made two great arches with her back and her tail.

'Bless the mother that laid you,' said she. 'You were dropped by mistake
in a goose nest. You won't do. I don't know much, but I am not such a
creature as you, anyhow. A great white thing!'

She straitened her body, stuck her tail up on end, and marched off with
much dignity. But, though she respected herself rather more than before,
she was not on the way to the end of her difficulties. She tried all the
creatures she met without advancing a step. They had all the old story,
'Do your duty.' But each had its own, and no one could tell her what
hers was. Only one point they all agreed upon--the duty of getting their
dinner when they were hungry. The day wore on, and she began to think
she would like hers. Her meals came so regularly at home that she
scarcely knew what hunger was; but now the sensation came over her very
palpably, and she experienced quite new emotions as the hares and
rabbits skipped about her, or as she spied a bird upon a tree. For a
moment she thought she would go back and eat the Owl--he was the most
useless creature she had seen; but on second thought she didn't fancy he
would be nice: besides that, his claws were sharp and his beak too.
Presently, however, as she sauntered down the path, she came on a little
open patch of green, in the middle of which a fine fat Rabbit was
sitting. There was no escape. The path ended there, and the bushes were
so thick on each side that he couldn't get away except through her paws.

'Really,' said the Cat, 'I don't wish to be troublesome; I wouldn't do
it if I could help it; but I am very hungry, I am afraid I must eat you.
It is very unpleasant, I assure you, to me as well as to you.'

The poor Rabbit begged for mercy.

'Well,' said she, 'I think it is hard; I do really--and, if the law
could be altered, I should be the first to welcome it. But what can a
Cat do? You eat the grass; I eat you. But, Rabbit, I wish you would do
me a favour.'

'Anything to save my life,' said the Rabbit.

'It is not exactly that,' said the Cat; 'but I haven't been used to
killing my own dinner, and it is disagreeable. Couldn't you die? I shall
hurt you dreadfully if I kill you.'

'Oh!' said the Rabbit, 'you are a kind Cat; I see it in your eyes, and
your whiskers don't curl like those of the cats in the woods. I am sure
you will spare me.'