



Produced by David Widger and Cindy Rosenthal





EVE'S DIARY


By Mark Twain


Illustrated by Lester Ralph




Translated from the Original



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
day-before-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 today 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 marvelously 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 myself.
I believe I can be honest in all other matters, but I already begin to
realize that the core and center 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.

Today 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 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 [it] 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 frowzy 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.

