adam's diary.txt, Page 2

  kind of a bug. If it dies, I will take it apart and see what its

  arrangements are. I never had a thing perplex me so.

  Three Months Later

  The perplexity augments instead of diminishing. I sleep but little.

  It has ceased from lying around, and goes about on its four legs

  now. Yet it differs from the other four-legged animals in that

  its front legs are unusually short, consequently this causes the

  main part of its person to stick up uncomfortably high in the air,

  and this is not attractive. It is built much as we are, but its

  method of travelling shows that it is not of our breed. The short

  front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is of the kangaroo

  family, but it is a marked variation of the species, since the

  true kangaroo hops, whereas this one never does. Still, it is a

  curious and interesting variety, and has not been catalogued before.

  As I discovered it, I have felt justified in securing the credit

  of the discovery by attaching my name to it, and hence have called

  it Kangaroorum Adamiensis. ... It must have been a young one

  when it came, for it has grown exceedingly since. It must be five

  times as big, now, as it was then, and when discontented is able

  to make from twenty-two to thirty-eight times the noise it made

  at first. Coercion does not modify this, but has the contrary

  effect. For this reason I discontinued the system. She reconciles

  it by persuasion, and by giving it things which she had previously

  told it she wouldn't give it. As already observed, I was not at

  home when it first came, and she told me she found it in the woods.

  It seems odd that it should be the only one, yet it must be so,

  for I have worn myself out these many weeks trying to find another

  one to add to my collection, and for this one to play with; for

  surely then it would be quieter, and we could tame it more easily.

  But I find none, nor any vestige of any; and strangest of all, no

  tracks. It has to live on the ground, it cannot help itself;

  therefore, how does it get about without leaving a track? I have

  set a dozen traps, but they do no good. I catch all small animals

  except that one; animals that merely go into the trap out of

  curiosity, I think, to see what the milk is there for. They never

  drink it.

  Three Months Later

  The kangaroo still continues to grow, which is very strange and

  perplexing. I never knew one to be so long getting its growth.

  It has fur on its head now; not like kangaroo fur, but exactly

  like our hair, except that it is much finer and softer, and instead

  of being black is red. I am like to lose my mind over the capricious

  and harassing developments of this unclassifiable zoological freak.

  If I could catch another one--but that is hopeless; it is a new

  variety, and the only sample; this is plain. But I caught a true

  kangaroo and brought it in, thinking that this one, being lonesome,

  would rather have that for company than have no kin at all, or any

  animal it could feel a nearness to or get sympathy from in its

  forlorn condition here among strangers who do not know its ways

  or habits, or what to do to make it feel that it is among friends;

  but it was a mistake--it went into such fits at the sight of the

  kangaroo that I was convinced it had never seen one before. I

  pity the poor noisy little animal, but there is nothing I can do

  to make it happy. If I could tame it--but that is out of the

  question; the more I try, the worse I seem to make it. It grieves

  me to the heart to see it in its little storms of sorrow and

  passion. I wanted to let it go, but she wouldn't hear of it. That

  seemed cruel and not like her; and yet she may be right. It might

  be lonelier than ever; for since I cannot find another one, how

  could it?

  Five Months Later

  It is not a kangaroo. No, for it supports itself by holding to

  her finger, and thus goes a few steps on its hind legs, and then

  falls down. It is probably some kind of a bear; and yet it has

  no tail--as yet--and no fur, except on its head. It still keeps

  on growing--that is a curious circumstance, for bears get their

  growth earlier than this. Bears are dangerous--since our

  catastrophe--and I shall not be satisfied to have this one prowling

  about the place much longer without a muzzle on. I have offered

  to get her a kangaroo if she would let this one go, but it did no

  good--she is determined to run us into all sorts of foolish risks,

  I think. She was not like this before she lost her mind.

  A Fortnight Later

  I examined its mouth. There is no danger yet; it has only one

  tooth. It has no tail yet. It makes more noise now than it ever

  did before--and mainly at night. I have moved out. But I shall

  go over, mornings, to breakfast, and to see if it has more teeth.

  If it gets a mouthful of teeth, it will be time for it to go, tail

  or no tail, for a bear does not need a tail in order to be

  dangerous.

  Four Months Later

  I have been off hunting and fishing a month, up in the region that

  she calls Buffalo; I don't know why, unless it is because there

  are not any buffaloes there. Meantime the bear has learned to

  paddle around all by itself on its hind legs, and says "poppa"

  and "momma." It is certainly a new species. This resemblance to

  words may be purely accidental, of course, and may have no purpose

  or meaning; but even in that case it is still extraordinary, and

  is a thing which no other bear can do. This imitation of speech,

  taken together with general absence of fur and entire absence of

  tail, sufficiently indicates that this is a new kind of bear. The

  further study of it will be exceedingly interesting. Meantime I

  will go off on a far expedition among the forests of the North and

  make an exhaustive search. There must certainly be another one

  somewhere, and this one will be less dangerous when it has company

  of its own species. I will go straightway; but I will muzzle this

  one first.

  Three Months Later

  It has been a weary, weary hunt, yet I have had no success. In

  the mean time, without stirring from the home estate, she has

  caught another one! I never saw such luck. I might have hunted

  these woods a hundred years, I never should have run across that

  thing.

  Next Day

  I have been comparing the new one with the old one, and it is

  perfectly plain that they are the same breed. I was going to stuff

  one of them for my collection, but she is prejudiced against it

  for some reason or other; so I have relinquished the idea, though

  I think it is a mistake. It would be an irreparable loss to science

  if they should get away. The old one is tamer than it was, and

  can laugh and talk like the parrot, having learned this, no doubt,

  from being with the parrot so much, and having the imitative faculty

  in a hi developed degree. I shall be astonished if it turns

  out to be a new kind of parrot, and yet I ought not to be astonished,

  for it has already been everything else it could thin
k of, since

  those first days when it was a fish. The new one is as ugly now

  as the old one was at first; has the same sulphur-and-raw-meat

  complexion and the same singular head without any fur on it. She

  calls it Abel.

  Ten Years Later

  They are boys; we found it out long ago. It was their coming in

  that small, immature shape that puzzled us; we were not used to it.

  There are some girls now. Abel is a good boy, but if Cain had

  stayed a bear it would have improved him. After all these years,

  I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better

  to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her.

  At first I thought she talked too much; but now I should be sorry

  to have that voice fall silent and pass out of my life. Blessed

  be the chestnut that brought us near together and taught me to

  know the goodness of her heart and the sweetness of her spirit!

  End of The Project Gutenberg Etext Extracts From Adam's Diary, by Twain