July 25th, 1851. Monday. Lenox.
At seven o'clock a. m., wife, E.P.P., Una, and Rosebud took their departure, leaving Julian and me in possession of the Red Shanty. The first observation which the old gentleman made thereupon was,— "Papa, isn't it nice to have baby gone?" His perfect confidence in my sympathy in this feeling was very queer. " Why is it nice?" I inquired. "Because now I can shout and squeal just as loud as I please!" an- swered he. And for the next half hour he ex- ercised his lungs to his heart's content, and almost split the welkin thereby. Then he hammered on an empty box, and appeared to have high enjoy- ment of the racket which he created. In the course of the forenoon, however, he fell into a deep reverie and looked very pensive. I asked him what he was thinking of, and he said, " Oh, about mamma's going away. I do not like to be away from her;" — and then he romanticized about getting horses and galloping after her. He declared, likewise, that he likes Una, and that she never troubled him. I hardly know how we got through the fore- noon. It is impossible to write, read, think, or even sleep (in the daytime), so constant are his appeals in one way or another; still he is such a genial and good-humored little man that there is certainly an enjoyment intermixed with all the annoyance. In the afternoon we walked down to the lake, and amused ourselves with flinging in stones, until the gathering clouds warned us homeward. In the wood, midway home, a shower overtook us; and we sat on an old decayed log, while the drops pattered plentifully on the trees overhead. He enjoyed the shower, and favored me with a great many weather-wise remarks. It continued showery all the rest of the day; so that I do not recollect of his going out afterwards. For an in-door playmate, there was Bunny, who does not turn out to be a very interesting companion, and makes me more trouble than he is worth. There ought to be two rabbits, in order to bring out each other's remarkable qualities — if any there be. Undoubtedly, they have the least feature and characteristic prominence of any creatures that God has made. With no playful- ness, as silent as a fish, inactive, Bunny's life passes between a torpid half -slumber and the nibbling of clover tops, lettuce, plantain leaves, pig-weed, and crumbs of bread. Sometimes, in- deed, he is seized with a little impulse of friski- ness; but it does not appear to be sportive, but nervous. Bunny has a singular countenance — like somebody's I have seen, but whose I forget. It is rather imposing and aristocratic, at a cur- sory glance; but examining it more closely, it is found to be laughably vague. Julian pays him very little attention now, and leaves me to gather leaves for him, else the poor little beast would be likely to starve. I am strongly tempted of the Evil One to murder him privately, and I wish with all my heart that Mrs. Peters would drown him.
Jullian had a great resource, to-day, in my jack-knife, which, being fortunately as dull as a hoe, I have given him to whittle with. So he made what he called a boat, and has declared his purpose to make a tooth-pick for his mother, him- self, Una, and me. He covered the floor of the boudoir with chips, twice over, and finds such in- exhaustible amusement that I think it would be cheaply bought with the loss of one or two of his fingers.
At about half-past six I put him to bed, and walked to the Post Office, where I found a letter from Mrs. Mann to Phoebe. I made no stay, and reached home, through a shower, at about eight. Went to bed without any supper — having nothing to eat but half-baked, sour bread.
At seven o'clock a. m., wife, E.P.P., Una, and Rosebud took their departure, leaving Julian and me in possession of the Red Shanty. The first observation which the old gentleman made thereupon was,— "Papa, isn't it nice to have baby gone?" His perfect confidence in my sympathy in this feeling was very queer. " Why is it nice?" I inquired. "Because now I can shout and squeal just as loud as I please!" an- swered he. And for the next half hour he ex- ercised his lungs to his heart's content, and almost split the welkin thereby. Then he hammered on an empty box, and appeared to have high enjoy- ment of the racket which he created. In the course of the forenoon, however, he fell into a deep reverie and looked very pensive. I asked him what he was thinking of, and he said, " Oh, about mamma's going away. I do not like to be away from her;" — and then he romanticized about getting horses and galloping after her. He declared, likewise, that he likes Una, and that she never troubled him. I hardly know how we got through the fore- noon. It is impossible to write, read, think, or even sleep (in the daytime), so constant are his appeals in one way or another; still he is such a genial and good-humored little man that there is certainly an enjoyment intermixed with all the annoyance. In the afternoon we walked down to the lake, and amused ourselves with flinging in stones, until the gathering clouds warned us homeward. In the wood, midway home, a shower overtook us; and we sat on an old decayed log, while the drops pattered plentifully on the trees overhead. He enjoyed the shower, and favored me with a great many weather-wise remarks. It continued showery all the rest of the day; so that I do not recollect of his going out afterwards. For an in-door playmate, there was Bunny, who does not turn out to be a very interesting companion, and makes me more trouble than he is worth. There ought to be two rabbits, in order to bring out each other's remarkable qualities — if any there be. Undoubtedly, they have the least feature and characteristic prominence of any creatures that God has made. With no playful- ness, as silent as a fish, inactive, Bunny's life passes between a torpid half -slumber and the nibbling of clover tops, lettuce, plantain leaves, pig-weed, and crumbs of bread. Sometimes, in- deed, he is seized with a little impulse of friski- ness; but it does not appear to be sportive, but nervous. Bunny has a singular countenance — like somebody's I have seen, but whose I forget. It is rather imposing and aristocratic, at a cur- sory glance; but examining it more closely, it is found to be laughably vague. Julian pays him very little attention now, and leaves me to gather leaves for him, else the poor little beast would be likely to starve. I am strongly tempted of the Evil One to murder him privately, and I wish with all my heart that Mrs. Peters would drown him.
Jullian had a great resource, to-day, in my jack-knife, which, being fortunately as dull as a hoe, I have given him to whittle with. So he made what he called a boat, and has declared his purpose to make a tooth-pick for his mother, him- self, Una, and me. He covered the floor of the boudoir with chips, twice over, and finds such in- exhaustible amusement that I think it would be cheaply bought with the loss of one or two of his fingers.
At about half-past six I put him to bed, and walked to the Post Office, where I found a letter from Mrs. Mann to Phoebe. I made no stay, and reached home, through a shower, at about eight. Went to bed without any supper — having nothing to eat but half-baked, sour bread.
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