And already there is a sign up:
KEEP OFF
THE GRASS
My life is not as happy as it was.
SATURDAY.--The new creature eats too much fruit. We are going
to run short, most likely. "We" again--that is ITS word; mine, too,
now, from hearing it so much. Good deal of fog this morning.
I do not go out in the fog myself. This new creature does.
It goes out in all weathers, and stumps right in with its muddy feet.
And talks. It used to be so pleasant and quiet here.
SUNDAY.--Pulled through. This day is getting to be more and more trying.
It was selected and set apart last November as a day of rest.
I had already six of them per week before. This morning found
the new creature trying to clod apples out of that forbidden tree.
MONDAY.--The new creature says its name is Eve. That is all right,
I have no objections. Says it is to call it by, when I want it
to come. I said it was superfluous, then. The word evidently
raised me in its respect; and indeed it is a large, good word
and will bear repetition. It says it is not an It, it is a She.
This is probably doubtful; yet it is all one to me; what she is were
nothing to me if she would but go by herself and not talk.
TUESDAY.--She has littered the whole estate with execrable names
and offensive signs:
This way to the Whirlpool
This way to Goat Island
Cave of the Winds this way
She says this park would make a tidy summer resort if there was
any custom for it.
Pages:
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328