A Catastrophe.

           

           ScarcelysixweekspassedbeforeIhadlosteveryfeelingbutdislikeandabhorrenceforthisinfamousexperimentofMoreau’s.MyoneideawastogetawayfromthesehorriblecaricaturesofmyMaker’simage,backtothesweetandwholesomeintercourseofmen.Myfellow-creatures,fromwhomIwasthusseparated,begantoassumeidyllicvirtueandbeautyinmymemory.MyfirstfriendshipwithMontgomerydidnotincrease.Hislongseparationfromhumanity,hissecretviceofdrunkenness,hisevidentsympathywiththeBeastPeople,taintedhimtome.SeveraltimesIlethimgoaloneamongthem.Iavoidedintercoursewiththemineverypossibleway.Ispentanincreasingproportionofmytimeuponthebeach,lookingforsomeliberatingsailthatneverappeared,untilonedaytherefelluponusanappallingdisaster,whichputanaltogetherdifferentaspectuponmystrangesurroundings.

           Itwasaboutsevenoreightweeksaftermylanding,rathermore,Ithink,thoughIhadnottroubledtokeepaccountofthetime,whenthiscatastropheoccurred.IthappenedintheearlymorningIshouldthinkaboutsix.Ihadrisenandbreakfastedearly,havingbeenarousedbythenoiseofthreeBeastMencarryingwoodintotheenclosure.

           AfterbreakfastIwenttotheopengatewayoftheenclosure,andstoodtheresmokingacigaretteandenjoyingthefreshnessoftheearlymorning.Moreaupresentlycameroundthecorneroftheenclosureandgreetedme.

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