One of her first tokens of affection was to gnaw off all the trimming from my black silk apron, as she lay pretending to caress and fondle me.

Nor was this her only style of mischief.
One day we heard a great rattling among the crockery in the kitchen.

We ran to see what was the matter, and found that Miss Fan had made her way to a shelf of the dresser, about two feet from the ground, and was endeavoring to find a comfortable place to lie down, among the plates and dishes.

I soon observed that it was the shelter of the shelf above her head that was the great attraction, and that she was in the habit of seeking out a place of repose under a chair, or something approaching to an "umbrageous bower." So after this I took care, as the hour for her morning nap approached, to open a large green parasol, and set it on the matting in the corner--then when I called "Fan, Fan," she would come and nestle under it, and soon fall fast asleep.
One morning Fan was missing.

In vain we called and sought her in the garden--in the enclosure for the cattle--at the houses of the Frenchmen--along the hill towards Paquette's--no Fan was to be found.