by Mark Twain
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
