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READING COMPREHENSION STORY:

THE BLACK CAT

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE(PUBLISHED 1845)
FOR the most wild, yet most homely narrative which I am about to pen, I neither expect nor solicit belief. Mad
indeed would I be to expect it, in a case where my very senses reject their own evidence. Yet, mad am I not --
and very surely, I do not dream. But tomorrow I die, and today I will distribute my soul. My immediate purpose is
to place before the world, plainly, succinctly, and without comment, a series of mere household events. In
consequence, these events have terrified -- have tortured -- have destroyed me. Yet I will not attempt to expound
them. To me, they have presented little but Horror -- to many they will seem less terrible than baroques. Hereafter,
perhaps, some intellect may be found which will reduce my phantasm to the commonplace -- some intellect more
calm, more logical, and far less excitable than my own, which will perceive, in the circumstances I detail with
awe, nothing more than an ordinary succession of very natural causes and effects. From my infancy I was noted
for the docility and humanity of my disposition. My tenderness of heart was even so conspicuous as to make me
the rest of my companions. I was especially fond of animals and was indulged by my parents with a great variety
of pets. With this I spent most of my time and never was so happy as when feeding and caressing them. This
peculiarity of character grew with my growth, and, in my manhood, I derived from it one of my principal sources
of pleasure. To those who have cherished an affection for a faithful and sagacious dog, I need hardly be at the
trouble of explaining nature or the intensity of the gratification thus derivable. There is something in the unselfish
and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test
the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man. I married early and was happy to find in my wife a
disposition not uncongenial on my own. Observing my partiality for domestic pets, she lost the opportunity of
procuring those of the most agreeable kind. We had birds, goldfish, a fine dog, rabbits, a small monkey, and a
cat. This latter was a remarkably large and beautiful animal, entirely black, and sagacious to an astonishing
degree. In speaking of his intelligence, my wife, who at heart was not a little tinctured with superstition, made
frequent allusion to the ancient popular notion, which regarded all black cats as witches in disguise. Not that she
was ever serious upon this point -- and I mention the matter at all for no better reason than that it happens, just
now, to be remembered.

Radical alteration for the worse. I grew, day by day, more moody, more irritable, more regardless of the feelings
of others. I suffered from using intemperate language to my wife. At length, I even offered her personal violence.
My pets, of course, were made to feel the change in my disposition. I not only neglected but ill-used them. For
Pluto, however, I still retained sufficient regard restraining me from maltreating him, as I made no scruple of
maltreating the rabbits, the monkey, or even the dog, when by accident, or through affection, they came in my
way. But my disease grew upon me -- for what disease is like Alcohol ! -- and at length even Pluto, who was now
becoming old, and consequently somewhat peevish -- even Pluto began to experience the effects of my ill
temper. One night, returning home, much intoxicated, from one of my haunts about town, I fancied that the cat
avoided my presence. I seized him when, in his fright at my violence, he inflicted a slight wound upon my hand
with his teeth. The fury of a demon instantly possessed me. I knew myself no longer. My original soul seemed,
at once, to take its flight from my body; and a more than fiendish malevolence, gin-nurtured, thrilled every part
of my frame. I took from my waistcoat pocket a penknife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and
deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket ! I blush, I burn, I shudder, while I pen the damnable atrocity.
When reason returned with the morning -- when I had slept off the fumes of the night's debauch -- I experienced
a sentiment half of horror, half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, at best, a feeble
and equivocal feeling, and the soul remained untouched. I again plunged into excess and soon drowned in wine
all memory of the deed. In the meantime, the cat slowly recovered. The socket of the lost eye presented, it is
true, a frightful appearance, but he no longer appeared to suffer any pain. He went about the house as usual,
but, as might be expected, fled in extreme terror at my approach. I had so much of my old heart left, as to be at
first grieved by this evident dislike on the part of a creature which had once so loved me. But this feeling soon
gave place to irritation. And then came, as if to my final and irrevocable overthrow, the spirit of PERVERSENESS.
Of this spirit philosophy takes no account. Yet I am not more sure that my soul lives, than I am that perverseness
is one of the primitive impulses of the human heart -- one of the indivisible primary faculties, or sentiments, which

vie direction to the character of Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found himself committing a vile or a silly
action, for no other reason than because he knows he should not? Have we not a perpetual inclination, in the
teeth of our best judgment, to violate that which is Law, merely because we understand it to be such? This spirit
of perverseness, I say, came to my final overthrow. It was this unfathomable longing of the soul to vex itself -- to
offer violence to its own nature -- to do wrong for the wrong's sake only -- that urged me to continue and finally
to consummate the injury I had inflicted upon the unoffending brute. One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a
noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; -- hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with
the bitterest remorse at my heart; -- hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given
me no reason of offence; -- hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin -- a deadly sin that
would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it -- if such a thing were possible -- even beyond the reach of
the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God. On the night of the day on which this cruel deed
was done, I was aroused from sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were in flames. The whole house
was blazing. It was with great difficulty that my wife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the
conflagration. The destruction was complete. My entire worldly wealth was swallowed up, and I resigned myself
to despair. I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster
and the atrocity. But I am detailing a chain of facts -- and wish not to leave even a possible link imperfect. On the
day succeeding the fire, I visited the ruins. The walls, with one exception, had fallen in. This exception was found
in a compartment wall, not very thick, which stood about the middle of the house, and against which had rested
the head of my bed. The plastering had here, in great measure, resisted the action of the fire -- a fact which I
attributed to its having been recently spread. About this wall a dense crowd were collected, and many people
seemed to be examining a particular portion of it with very minute and eager attention. The words "strange!"
"Singular!" and other similar expressions, excited my curiosity. I approached and saw, as if graven in bas relief
upon the white surface, the figure of a gigantic cat. The impression was given with an accurately marvelous.
There was a rope about the animal's neck. When I first heard this apparition -- for I could scarcely regard it as
less --my wonder and my terror were extreme. But at length reflection came to my aid. The cat, I remember, had
been hung in a garden adjacent to the house. Upon the alarm of fire, this garden had been immediately filled by
the crowd -- by someone of whom the animal must have been cut from the tree and thrown, through an open
window, into my chamber.

READ THE STORY ABOVE WRITTEN AND ANSWER CORRECTLY THE FOLLOWING
QUESTIONS:

1. WHAT WAS THE NARRATOR'S DISPOSITION LIKE IN HIS YOUTH?

a) Cruel and malicious b) Indifferent and apathetic c) Docile and humane
d) Rebellious and defiant

2. WHAT WAS THE NARRATOR'S FAVORITE PASTIME AS A CHILD?

a) Reading books b) Playing with other children c) Spending time with his
pets d) Exploring the outdoors

3. WHAT DID THE NARRATOR'S WIFE BELIEVE ABOUT BLACK CATS?

a) They bring good luck. b) They are witches in disguise. c) They are symbols of
wisdom. d) They are messengers of bad news.

4. WHAT CAUSED THE NARRATOR'S PERSONALITY TO CHANGE DRASTICALLY?

a) The death of his parents b) A traumatic childhood experience c) Alcohol
d) A supernatural curse

4. WHAT WAS THE NAME OF THE BLACK CAT?

a) Lucifer b) Midnight c) Pluto
d) Shadow

5. WHAT DID THE NARRATOR DO TO THE CAT IN HIS DRUNKEN RAGE?

a) Kicked it b) Cut one of its eyes out c) Set it on fire d) Threw it out the

window

6. WHAT IS THE "SPIRIT OF PERVERSENESS" DESCRIBED IN THE STORY?

a) The desire for revenge b) The longing for power c) The inclination to do wrong
for the -wrong's sake d) The fear of death

8. WHAT ULTIMATELY HAPPENED TO THE CAT?

a) It ran away. b) It was killed by a car. c) It was hanged from a
tree. d) It died of old age.
9. WHAT DISASTER STRUCK THE NARRATOR'S HOME?
a) A flood b) An earthquake c) A fire d) A robbery

10. WHAT WAS FOUND IMPRINTED ON THE WALL AFTER THE FIRE?

a) The narrator's face b) The figure of a gigantic cat with a rope around its neck
c) A cryptic message d) A symbol of evil