Last year I lost one tooth. It fell out without any pain, and I did not miss it; but Miss Milly did feel so badly about it, and cried when one of the family said, "Daisy is quite old; it is the beginning of the end." Miss Eleanor was very indignant, saying, "If it is not 'the beginning,' it is the end, of their visits here; we will not entertain such cruel people." They were more careful of me than ever after this. They cut up my food very fine, and I was very careful not to gnaw meat off of a bone, for fear it would injure my teeth, and bring the "beginning of the end" after me. Whatever that might be I did not know; but it was such a scare to Miss Milly that I thought it must be some monster that would devour me as soon as I lost my teeth. Our nice friend told us a great many stories about cats she had known and loved. Her charming daughter, my girl friend, could make cats perform tricks very easily. She seemed to charm them. There were photographs of cats taken in every position, and they seemed to do just as she wished, for she took the pictures of them herself. We had very few cats in our neighborhood, and I did long sometimes to see one of my own old friends. I went out every day when it was pleasant, and sat upon a high fence, where I could look into back alleys, where the poor people had one or two miserable rooms, scanty furniture, and probably very little food, and I noticed with pleasure that in every one of these poor homes a cat could be seen sitting before the small fire, an honored member of the family. I wished I could write a check for these good-hearted people. It made me laugh; for who would honor a cat's check? If I could talk, I know my dear friends would help them, if I could tell how much they need it; but as I cannot, I must content myself with good intentions. XII CAT TALES There is no doubt that cat lovers will be interested in the true stories of cats that our friends related to us from time to time. I have them all in my memory. If they can arouse a love of cats in the hearts of my readers, this little work of love by one fortunate cat will accomplish its purpose. Our friend told us a very wonderful story of a cat named Alexander. There seems to be a fitness in his name; for he was, in my opinion, very great. It does look a good deal like a "fish story," though I know it is strictly true; for he was a Boston cat, and lived not half a mile from our home. Alexander was a prime favorite with all the family. He was the master's special friend and pet, while the mistress had a bird she was very fond of and had kept a great many years. Alexander had been taught to respect its rights, and ignored it as beneath his notice.