These cats were very nice to me. They would run up the trees and on top of the bay-window to amuse me; for I could not run or climb very well, though the next year, when we were out there, I could run with them very easily. We had such nice dinners together; for I enjoyed sharing my good things with them, and they were very nice about eating. They did not snort and growl as some cats do, or pick for the best. My mistress used to put down one large platter, and would give each of them the end, while I had the middle. Each shared alike. We had a great deal of company. I enjoyed them all, particularly the artists. I had an eye for color, though I could not make a telescope of my paw and put it over my eye, exclaiming: "What perspective! What color! What technique!" But I could open both eyes and see if the pictures were true to nature. Many offers were made by the artists to paint my picture; but my mistress refused them, saying: "Should I lose my Daisy, I could not bear to see a picture of her. I should always carry one in my heart, and would need no other." Our pleasant home we left the last of September, just when the autumn foliage was in a blaze of color, giving us a delightful picture to remember through the winter. We carried home some pine-cones for our grate, and bright leaves to put in our vases--a very pleasant reminder of our summer home. We made a pine pillow. I say _we_ because I pulled out the pine as fast as they picked it. At last they were obliged to put me in the closet. I climbed on the shelf and knocked down boxes till, in self-defence, they released me. But the pine pillow was finished, and I had many good naps on it, remembering those with whom I had played under the pines. IX CAT TALES I had always felt desirous of hearing the history of Topsy. My mother lived one year in the house with her, on good, if not friendly, terms. Her disappearance was a subject I pondered over quite often. Naturally, having taken her place in Miss Milly's affections, I wondered about her. One day my curiosity was gratified. A friend, very fond of cats, who had known Topsy very well, called. Miss Milly told her this interesting story. Topsy was a Salem cat, and no one could doubt her being a real witch cat. She was nervous, always on the jump, and "such a smart temper!" Miss Milly said: "I had always been very fond of black cats, but it so happened, though we had cats of all colors, we had never a black one, till the arrival of Topsy. You know," she laughed, "I have always been very proud of calling myself a Salem witch. I have a mole on my left shoulder, and now that the black cat had arrived, I felt that I had all the requirements needful to make a veritable 'Salem witch.' I believe there is some superstition about a black cow, also; but one could not go about leading a black cow quite as well as a cat, and I felt satisfied that would entitle me to the name."