August 2nd. Saturday. [1851]
In the morning we got up at about half -past six,
and, Julian being bathed, and also myself, and
Julian's wool duly frizzled, we set out for the
milk. For the first time since some immemorial
date, it was really a pleasant morning; not a
cloud to be seen, except a few white and bright
streaks, far off to the southward. Monument Mountain, however, had a fleece of sun-brightened mist, entirely covering it except its western
summit, which emerged. There were also mists
along the western side, hovering on the tree-tops,
and portions of the same mist had flitted upward, and become real clouds in the sky. These vapors
were rapidly passing away; and by the time we
had done our errand, and returned, they had
wholly disappeared.
I forgot to say, in the record of last night,
that Herman Melville invited me to bring Julian
and spend several days at his house, next week,
when E. A. Duyckinck and his brother are to be
there. I accepted for at least one night, and so
Melville is to come for us.
At ten o'clock I sent Julian over to High-
wood with Bunny, whom he is going to offer as a
present to Ellen. The truth is, our house is too
small, and we have not the proper accommodations for the excellent Bunny, for whom I have
a great regard, but whose habits do not exactly
fit him to be a constant occupant of the sitting-
room. Our straw carpet was beginning to suffer
seriously from some of his proceedings. At
Highwood they can give him a room to himself,
if they like — or, in short, do what they please with
him. I really liked Bunny, who has very pleasant little ways, and a character well worth observing.
He had grown perfectly familiar with us, and
seemed to show a fondness for our society, and
would always sit himself near us, and was attentive to all our motions. He has, I think, a great
deal of curiosity, and an investigating disposition, and is very observant of what is going on
around him. I do not know any other beast, and
few human beings, who, always present, and
thrusting his little paw into all the business of the
day, could at the same time be so perfectly unobtrusive. I cannot but regret his departure, both
for our sakes and his own; for I am afraid Ellen
will squeeze and otherwise torment him, and that
he will find nobody at Highwood so attentive to
his habits as I was. What a pity that he could
not have put himself under some restraint and
rule, as to certain matters. Julian, too, seemed
half-sorry to part with Bunny, but was so pleased
with the idea of giving him to Ellen that he made
no objection. He has not yet returned to say
how the offering was accepted.
Quarter of eleven, Julian has come back, and
reports that they did not thank him for Bunny,
and that Ellen began to squeeze him very hard
the first minute. He saw Deborah and Caroline
and Ellen. They did not understand, at first,
that Bunny was to remain there, and when Julian
was coming away, they asked him if he was going
to leave Bunny. " Why," said the little man," he is to be Ellen's own!" Whereat they said nothing. He says, however, that they seemed to be
glad to have it. Poor Bunny, I am afraid, is
doomed to be a sufferer for the rest of his life.
Ellen, according to Julian's account, took the
poor little fellow up by his fur, and by his hind
leg, keeping him dangling in the air, and committed odious other outrages. Perhaps I had
better have drowned him. Possibly I may yet
have a chance to do so, for I should not wonder
if they were to send him back. Julian says he
had a great mind to snatch him away and run
home.
Before dinner we took a walk to the lake,
where we found a boat drawn up on the shore,
and if it had not been fastened to the root of a
tree and locked, I think we should have taken a
trip to foreign parts. The little man got into
the boat, and enjoyed himself greatly, especially
when he discovered some little old fish, evidently
of some days' continuance, in the bottom of the
boat.
After dinner came Mr. Farley, as he had
partly given me to expect when I saw him yesterday. He came with the purpose of trying to
catch some fish; so all three of us went down to the lake. Julian was quite in ecstasy. There is
no use in trying to keep him from becoming a fisherman; there is the genuine instinct
in him, and sooner or later it will gratify
itself. Neither do I perceive any reason why
it should not; it is as harmless a propensity
as he could have. However, there was nothing in our luck, this afternoon, to make him
enamoured of the pursuit. We caught only a few
bream and perch, each of which the old gentle-
man immediately took up by the tail, surveying
it with most delighted interest, and frisking all
the while as if in sympathy with the frisky movements of the poor fish. After a while, Mr. Farley
and I became tired, and we set out for home.
The afternoon was as perfect as could be, as to
beauty and comfort; just warm enough, nothing
to be added or taken away. He did not stay to
tea, but went home, taking Herman Melville's
" White Jacket " with him.
I put Julian to bed at seven, or thereabouts,
and went out to pick some currants. While thus
engaged, Mrs. Tappan passed by the edge of the
garden, towards the lower barn; and I asked her
whether Julian made his offering of the rabbit to
Ellen with due grace. She laughed, and said that he did, but said that they found Bunny quite
troublesome, and that Ellen maltreated him and
that the dog was always trying to get him — and,
in short. Bunny turned out not to be a desirable
acquisition. She spoke of giving him to little
Marshall Butler, and suggested, moreover (in
reply to something that I said about putting him
out of existence) , that he might be turned out into
the woods, to shift for himself. There is some-
thing characteristic in this idea. It shows the sort
of sensitiveness that finds the pain and misery
of other people disagreeable, just as it would a
bad scent, but is perfectly at ease when once they
are removed from her sphere. I suppose she
would not for the world have killed Bunny, al-
though she would have exposed him to the cer-
tainty of lingering starvation without scruple or
remorse. Seeing nothing else to be done, I pro-
posed to take Bunny back, and she promised to
bring him to-morrow.
Mrs. Peters went home immediately after sup-
per. I read " Pendennis " during the evening, ate
about a quart of crushed currants, and went to
bed at ten.
