Use of Love for Dumb Animals—Quinty and his Doom—A stray Dog and his Habits—His death—Dog Insanity, etc.
- February, 1855.
For those whose destiny it is to die with love or money unspent (my case), there is a certain "small change," of affectionateness which can only be expended, I find, on dumb animals. Hence my perhaps too frequent call upon you to be interested in the quadrupeds of Idlewild—these recipients of what is left over of victuals and tenderness, forming a part (more or less) of the life I endeavor to describe to you. I appealed to your sympathy last week for our newly domesticated 'possum. In the letter before me I must mention another "varmint" or two—quadruped event, just now, being our principal news and stir. You have human event enough to occupy you, I know. But the basement story of your heart (intended for the brute creation and kept closed in city life), requires airing now and then. So come down from "high humanity," and un-shutter to us, for a minute or two, on the ground floor. It will rest you.
Half-past ten, January 30, and a bitter bright, night—
