The $30,000 Bequest by Mark Twain (best e reader for manga TXT) 📕

fly; it is not a frog, for it doesn’t hop;

it is not a snake, for it doesn’t crawl; I feel sure it is not a fish,

though I cannot get a chance to find out whether it can swim or not.

It merely lies around, and mostly on its back, with its feet up.

I have not seen any other animal do that before. I said I believed it

was an enigma; but she only admired the word without understanding it.

In my judgment it is either an enigma or some 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 traveling shows that it is not of our breed.

The short front legs and long hind ones indicate that it is a of

the kangaroo family, but it is a marked variation of that 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 it 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 me 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 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 upon 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 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 would

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 of 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 a parrot,

having learned this, no doubt, from being with the parrot so much,

and having the imitative faculty in a high 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 think of since those first days when it

was a fish. The new one is as ugly 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!

***

EVE’S DIARY

 

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