I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it,grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyesfrom the socket
I experienced a sentiment half of horror,half of remorse, for the crime of which I had been guilty; but it was, atbest, a feeble and equivocal feeling,
why aren't you dead
I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to thelimb of a tree; -- hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and withthe bitterest remorse at my heart; -- hung it because I knew that it hadloved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence;
I wasaroused from sleep by the cry of fire. The curtains of my bed were inflames. The whole house was blazing.
It was with great difficulty that mywife, a servant, and myself, made our escape from the conflagration.