Miranda Eliot Swan

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."

This is the way Topsy came to my mistress: One summer evening a friend drove up to the door with a basket of flowers. Miss Milly was pleased with them, but when under the flowers a little fluffy ball revealed itself, and when the little ball had brilliant yellow eyes, she was delighted. She smoothed its soft fur, saying: "What a lovely kitten! Is it for me?"

As she asked the question, the kitten gave one spring and landed on her shoulder, where she secured her position by sticking her sharp claws into Miss Milly's shoulder. At every attempt to dislodge her, she asserted herself with tooth and nail; having undoubtedly a claw hold, she would never resign.

This was Topsy's first claim on my mistress, and she made a slave of her ever after. All the family were pleased with Topsy. The advent of a coal-black cat into a family was looked upon as a very fortunate occurrence. Such cats have always been singled out from all others as associated with good luck. If one is driven from the house, it is thought to bring disaster.

In northern Europe the idea of prosperity is so associated with a black cat that the owner of a new house often sends a black cat there, before he takes possession, in order to secure good luck. The Egyptians called the cat "Pasht" (their name for the moon) because her eyes were bright in the dark. Of course I heard this from my mistress, and it is probably more interesting to me than to my readers. Miss Milly said Topsy had round yellow eyes, big enough to entitle her to the name of "Pasht."

She was so like Mrs. Stowe's Topsy in "Uncle Tom's Cabin" that no other name could be so appropriate. If standing on her head and fighting every thing that moved, even a leaf, could make her like Topsy, she deserved the name. She was full of life and electricity. If any one smoothed her fur the wrong way, in the dark, sparks would fly, and a snap like a fire-cracker would follow.

We have a picture of her taken with the two boys. Karl has a great sleepy creature called Daisy because he was white and black and had green eyes. He is, as usual, asleep on the boy's knees. Will holds Topsy, and his face wears a distressed expression, for she is tearing and clawing him, trying to escape.

Daisy belonged to Miss Eleanor. She brought him home one evening from a friend's. She put him in a closet over night, Karl slept in his aunt's bed, and just before morning she got Daisy and hid him at the foot of the bed.

When Karl awoke he teased for a story. Aunt Nellie bewitched the children with her original tales of animals. She began the oft-told story of the little pig family, when Karl said,—

"Hark! I hear breathing."

"Nonsense," said Aunt Nellie; "perhaps it is the little pink pig."

Pretty soon, however, the kitten had grown warm and comfortable, and ventured on a louder purr than he had given before. Karl started up saying:—

"Oh, stop! Aunt Nellie, I do bleevs it is a kitty."

There was no longer chance for concealment, and the kitten was produced, to the boy's great delight. When Willie came in from his mother's room to ask for his story, the same fun was repeated.

The children were very much pleased with him, and named him Daisy. Their aunties remonstrated at one of his sex being called Daisy; but when the children asked in an aggrieved manner, "Are there no boy daisies?" as they were not able to answer the question in a satisfactory manner, he was allowed to bear the name of Daisy. (There is no doubt that since then they have decided that boys have as good a right to be called Daisies as girls, for my mistress called me Daisy, and I like it.)

Three years after Daisy came to them he disappeared, and they mourned long for him, particularly because they thought a neighbor who disliked cats had killed him.

Topsy quarrelled with him and drove him about, but Daisy was sweet tempered and bore it so quietly that Topsy despised him. She did not love any cat unless she could fight with him. Topsy had a great many kittens. Like many human mothers, she was not fond of taking care of her children. She was very peremptory, cuffing them right and left at the least provocation. She was a cat "Mrs. Jellyby," the Borrioboola-gha mission being more to her taste than her home. She did not care to chaperon sons and daughters into society, and she cast them adrift as soon as possible. One kitten was always kept for her, and she never seemed to miss the others. When she was ready to wean that one, it was provided with a good home, without the least interest on her part. The family were very fond of kittens, but dared not get interested in them, for they could only keep two at one time.

She had one beautiful little black one, and Miss Eleanor became so fond of her that she decided to keep her for her own. She deserves another chapter.