Of course I was very much ashamed, though it proved how much they loved me. I promised myself I would never try them again; and I was frightened when I realized what a narrow escape I had had. Then I enjoyed my good breakfast, washed myself thoroughly, and getting into my nice basket, slept all day. But there are moments now when the horror of my situation overpowers me, and I always hear with pity about the men who mount the high buildings and church steeples. And I never, though I am a patriotic cat, desire to go to the top of Bunker Hill Monument. The picture of it satisfies me. It makes my head spin, and I have vertigo of the mind; just to think of it makes me lose my head. For a cat to lose his head is a serious matter. We might spare a piece of tail, but we need every bit of the head. That reminds me of a cat of Miss Eleanor that really lost half of its tail. Her name was "Persimmon." The family all laughed at Miss Eleanor for her romantic idea, and very soon the name degenerated into "Sim"--a much more appropriate one for the wild and homely creature who answered to it. She was one of Miss Eleanor's many pensioners. Somehow the mean-looking and abused always were those she selected for pets. After they had in vain tried to find a home for Sim, she at last settled down as one of the family, to the disgust of their old and well-bred cat. Sim had no manners, and was not in the least degree sensitive. She was a dirty white, with pale greenish eyes; and a dark shadow under them gave her a weird aspect. Miss Milly said the dark shadow was "ashes," but Miss Eleanor said it was the "shadow of deep thought." More people, however, believed in the ashes than in the thought. She would crowd herself in where there was no room for her; and after the loss of her tail, she was more determined to assert her position than before. It happened in this wise: Sim had a very high temper, and in a quarrel with a bigger cat than herself she was vanquished. In trying to run away she climbed the fence. The cat following could only reach her tail. It was a long one, and she struck her claws into it with such force that she nearly tore it off. Sim went about, for a few days, a sorry object, till it fell off. The remains of it only measured about two inches. She exhibited herself on the front doorstep whenever any one called, in an unblushing manner. A friend of my mistresses, a professor of music, asked what kind of animal she was, saying he had never met just her like. At last she made herself so disagreeable that the mother said they must dispose of her. They felt badly, but their mother's decision they never questioned.