До Адама

           Allfourholdsbrokeatthesametime,andIfell,back-downward,lookingupathim,myhandsandfeetstillclutchingthebrokentwigs.Luckily,therewerenowildpigsunderme,andmyfallwasbrokenbythetoughandspringybushes.

           Usually,myfallsdestroymydreams,thenervousshockbeingsufficienttobridgethethousandcenturiesinaninstantandhurlmewideawakeintomylittlebed,where,perchance,Iliesweatingandtremblingandhearthecuckooclockcallingthehourinthehall.ButthisdreamofmyleavinghomeIhavehadmanytimes,andneveryethaveIbeenawakenedbyit.AlwaysdoIcrash,shrieking,downthroughthebrushandfetchupwithabumpontheground.

           Scratchedandbruisedandwhimpering,IlaywhereIhadfallen.Peeringupthroughthebushes,IcouldseetheChatterer.Hehadsetupademoniacalchantofjoyandwaskeepingtimetoitwithhisteetering.Iquicklyhushedmywhimpering.Iwasnolongerinthesafetyofthetrees,andIknewthedangerIranofbringinguponmyselfthehuntinganimalsbytooaudibleanexpressionofmygrief.

           Iremember,asmysobsdieddown,thatIbecameinterestedinwatchingthestrangelight-effectsproducedbypartiallyopeningandclosingmytear-weteyelids.ThenIbegantoinvestigate,andfoundthatIwasnotsoverybadlydamagedbymyfall.Ihadlostsomehairandhide,hereandthere;thesharpandjaggedendofabrokenbranchhadthrustfullyaninchintomyforearm;andmyrighthip,whichhadbornethebruntofmycontactwiththeground,wasachingintolerably.Butthese,afterall,wereonlypettyhurts.