“‘Oh! my poor dear, dear, dear Bunny,’ said he, ‘what shall I do to make you well?—oh! what would I give? Oh! I have killed you, for I know I have. Oh! my poor dear Bunny—let me kiss you, dear Bunny.’ Here the little fellow stooped down to kiss his rabbit. Just at that moment it gave a struggle—in the next it was dead.
“Edwin’s eyes were full of tears, and when he could see through them, and found out what had happened, he broke out into loud sobs and cries, till he roused the whole house. ‘Oh! my dear rabbit—oh! I have killed my rabbit—oh! what shall I do?’ he uttered in deepest grief.
“‘Ay,’ said his mamma, who was called to the spot by his outcries; ‘I feared it would be thus:—who would think a house-bred rabbit could live in a damp pig-sty? The poor thing has been destroyed by neglect.’
“‘Oh, yes, dear mamma, do not scold me; I know I have been very naughty. Oh, I do love my dear rabbit;—I love it more now it is dead than I did when it was alive;—but is it really dead, mamma?—no; is it?—it is quite warm, and may get well again,—say it will, there’s a dear, dear mother;’ and then he cried again.
“The rabbit was, however, dead; and had caught its death in the way Edwin’s mamma supposed, by being ill fed, and kept in a damp place, by thoughtless, if not cruel neglect.
“Edwin was overcome with grief,—but it was now too late. Sad was the next night to him, for something told him he had been cruel to that which he had promised to love. He got no sleep; and early in the morning he arose, and went to the place where his pet was laid.
“He wept all the next day; and, in the evening, he dug a grave in his own little garden, close by the side of a young rose tree. Then he wrapped the body in some nice hay, and laid it in its narrow cell, and placed rose-leaves upon it, and covered it gently with the earth;—and his heart was like to burst when he heaped the mould over it, and he was forced to pause in his task by the full gushing of his tears.
“‘My child,’ said his mamma, who watched him at his sorrowful task, ‘if you had taken half the trouble for Bunny, when alive, as you do now he is dead, he would have been alive now.’
“‘Yes, yes, dear mamma,—I know—I know; but do tell me, pray do,—will not rabbits go to heaven? Is there not some place where they can be happy? I hope my poor dear Bunny may;’—and here the little fellow sobbed again.
“‘Give me a kiss, my dear boy,’ said his mamma; ‘come, leave this spot;’ and so she led him gently away from the rabbit’s grave.”