EVE’S DIARY
Saturday
I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday. That
is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was a daybefore-yesterday.
I was not there when it happened, or I should
remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen, and that I
was not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful, now, and if
any day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it. It will
be best to start right and not let the record get confused, for some
instinct tells me that these details are going to be important to the
historian some day. For I feel like an experiment, I feel exactly
like an experiment; it would be impossible for a person to feel
more like an experiment than I do, and so I am coming to feel
convinced that that is what I am — an experiment; just an experiment,
and nothing more.
Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I
think not; I think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of
it, but I think the rest of it has its share in the matter. Is my position
assured, or do I have to watch it and take care of it? The
latter, perhaps. Some instinct tells me that eternal vigilance is the
price of supremacy. [That is a good phrase, I think, for one so
young.]
Everything looks better to-day than it did yesterday. In the
rush of finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged
condition, and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish
and remnants that the aspects were quite distressing. Noble
and beautiful works of art should not be subjected to haste; and
this majestic new world is indeed a most noble and beautiful
work. And certainly marvellously near to being perfect, notwithstanding
the shortness of the time. There are too many stars in
some places and not enough in others, but that can be remedied
presently, no doubt. The moon got loose last night, and slid
down and fell out of the scheme — a very great loss; it breaks
my heart to think of it. There isn’t another thing among the ornaments
and decorations that is comparable to it for beauty and
finish. It should have been fastened better. If we can only get it
back again —
But of course there is no telling where it went to. And besides,
whoever gets it will hide it; I know it because I would do it
www.elibron.com
1
Стр.1
myself. I believe I can be honest in all other matters, but I already
begin to realize that the core and centre of my nature is
love of the beautiful, a passion for the beautiful, and that it
would not be safe to trust me with a moon that belonged to another
person and that person didn’t know I had it. I could give up
a moon that I found in the daytime, because I should be afraid
some one was looking; but if I found it in the dark. I am sure I
should find some kind of an excuse for not saying anything
about it. For I do love moons, they are so pretty and so romantic.
I wish we had five or six. I would never go to bed; I should never
get tired lying on the moss-bank and looking up at them.
Stars are good, too. I wish I could get some to put in my
hair. But I suppose I never can. You would be surprised to find
how far off they are, for they do not look it. When they first
showed, last night, I tried to knock some down with a pole, but it
didn’t reach, which astonished me; then I tried clods till I was all
tired out, but I never got one. It was because I am left-handed
and cannot throw good. Even when I aimed at the one I wasn’t
after I couldn’t hit the other one, though I did make some close
shots, for I saw the black blot of the clod sail right into the midst
of the golden clusters forty or fifty times, just barely missing
them, and if I could have held out a little longer maybe I could
have got one.
So I cried a little, which was natural, I suppose, for one of
my age, and after I was rested I got a basket and started for a
place on the extreme rim of the circle, where the stars were close
to the ground and I could get them with my hands, which would
be better, anyway, because I could gather them tenderly then,
and not break them. But it was farther than I thought, and at last I
had to give it up; I was so tired I couldn’t drag my feet another
step; and besides, they were sore and hurt me very much.
I couldn’t get back home; it was too far, and turning cold;
but I found some tigers, and nestled in among them and was
most adorably comfortable, and their breath was sweet and
pleasant, because they live on strawberries. I had never seen a
tiger before, but I knew them in a minute by the stripes. If I
could have one of those skins, it would make a lovely gown.
To-day I am getting better ideas about distances. I was so
eager to get hold of every pretty thing that I giddily grabbed for
it, sometimes when it was too far off, and sometimes when it was
2
Стр.2
but six inches away but seemed a foot — alas, with thorns between!
I learned a lesson; also I made an axiom, all out of my
own head — my very first one: The scratched Experiment shuns
the thorn. I think it is a very good one for one so young.
I followed the other experiment around, yesterday afternoon,
at a distance, to see what it might be for, if I could. But I
was not able to make out. I think it is a man. I had never seen a
man, but it looked like one, and I feel sure that that is what it is. I
realize that I feel more curiosity about it than about any of the
other reptiles. If it is a reptile, and I suppose it is; for it has
frowsy hair and blue eyes, and looks like a reptile. It has no hips;
it tapers like a carrot; when it stands, it spreads itself apart like a
derrick; so I think it is a reptile, though it may be architecture.
I was afraid of it at first, and started to run every time it
turned around, for I thought it was going to chase me; but byand-by
I found it was only trying to get away, so after that I was
not timid any more, but tracked it along, several hours, about
twenty yards behind, which made it nervous and unhappy. At
last it was a good deal worried, and climbed a tree. I waited a
good while, then gave it up and went home.
To-day the same thing over. I’ve got it up the tree again.
It is up there yet. Resting, apparently. But that is a subterfuge:
Sunday isn’t the day of rest; Saturday is appointed for that.
It looks to me like a creature that is more interested in resting
than in anything else. It would tire me to rest so much. It tires me
just to sit around and watch the tree. I do wonder what it is for; I
never see it do anything.
They returned the moon last night, and I was so happy! I
think it is very honest of them. It slid down and fell off again, but
I was not distressed; there is no need to worry when one has that
kind of neighbors; they will fetch it back. I wish I could do
something to show my appreciation. I would like to send them
some stars, for we have more than we can use. I mean I, not we,
for I can see that the reptile cares nothing for such things.
It has low tastes, and is not kind. When I went there yesterday
evening in the gloaming it had crept down and was trying to
catch the little speckled fishes that play in the pool, and I had to
clod it to make it go up the tree again and let them alone. I wonder
if that is what it is for? Hasn’t it any heart? Hasn’t it any
compassion for those little creatures? Can it be that it was dewww.elibron.com
3
Стр.3