estate, I think. The new creature calls it Niagara Falls--why,
I am sure I do not know. Says it looks like Niagara Falls. That
is not a reason; it is mere waywardness and imbecility. I get no
chance to name anything myself. The new creature names everything
that comes along, before I can get in a protest. And always that
same pretext is offered--it looks like the thing. There is the
dodo, for instance. Says the moment one looks at it one sees at
a glance that it "looks like a dodo." It will have to keep that
name, no doubt. It wearies me to fret about it, and it does no
good, anyway. Dodo! It looks no more like a dodo than I do.

Wednesday

Built me a shelter against the rain, but could not have it to
myself in peace. The new creature intruded. When I tried to put
it out it shed water out of the holes it looks with, and wiped it
away with the back of its paws, and made a noise such as some of
the other animals make when they are in distress. I wish it would
not talk; it is always talking. That sounds like a cheap fling
at the poor creature, a slur; but I do not mean it so. I have never
heard the human voice before, and any new and strange sound
intruding itself here upon the solemn hush of these dreaming
solitudes offends my ear and seems a false note. And this new
sound is so close to me; it is right at my shoulder, right at my
ear, first on one side and then on the other, and I am used only
to sounds that are more or less distant from me.

Friday

The naming goes recklessly on, in spite of anything I can do. I