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I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a
little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me。
But I find I get pretty tired when I try。
It is so discouraging not to have any advice and
companionship about my work。 When I get really well； John says
we will ask Cousin Henry and Julia down for a long visit； but he
says he would as soon put fireworks in my pillow…case as to let
me have those stimulating people about now。
I wish I could get well faster。
But I must not think about that。 This paper looks to me as
if it KNEW what a vicious influence it had！
There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a
broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down。
I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the
everlastingness。 Up and down and sideways they crawl； and those
absurd； unblinking eyes are everywhere。 There is one place where
two breadths didn't match； and the eyes go all up and down the
line； one a little higher than the other。
I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before；
and we all know how much expression they have！ I used to lie
awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of
blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in
a toy store。
I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big； old
bureau used to have； and there was one chair that always seemed
like a strong friend。
I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too
fierce I could always hop into that chair and be safe。
The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious；
however； for we had to bring it all from downstairs。 I suppose
when this was used as a playroom they had to take the nursery
things out； and no wonder！ I never saw such ravages as the
children have made here。
The wall…paper； as I said before； is torn off in spots； and
it sticketh closer than a brotherthey must have had
perseverance as well as hatred。
Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered； the
plaster itself is dug out here and there； and this great heavy
bed which is all we found in the room； looks as if it had been
through the wars。
But I don't mind it a bitonly the paper。
There comes John's sister。 Such a dear girl as she is； and
so careful of me！ I must not let her find me writing。
She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper； and hopes for
no better profession。 I verily believe she thinks it is the
writing which made me sick！
But I can write when she is out； and see her a long way off
from these windows。
There is one that commands the road； a lovely shaded winding
road； and one that just looks off over the country。 A lovely
country； too； full of great elms and velvet meadows。
This wall…paper has a kind of sub…pattern in a different
shade； a particularly irritating one； for you can only see it in
certain lights； and not clearly then。
But in the places where it isn't faded and where the sun is
just soI can see a strange； provoking； formless sort of figure；
that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front
design。
There's sister on the stairs！
Well； the Fourth of July is over！ The people are gone and I
am tired out。 John thought it might do me good to see a little
company； so we just had mother and Nellie and the children down
for a week。
Of course I didn't do a thing。 Jennie sees to everything
now。
But it tired me all the same。
John says if I don't pick up faster he shall send me to Weir
Mitchell in the fall。
But I don't want to go there at all。 I had a friend who was
in his hands once； and she says he is just like John and my
brother； only more so！
Besides； it is such an undertaking to go so far。
I don't feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over
for anything； and I'm getting dreadfully fretful and querulous。
I cry at nothing； and cry most of the time。
Of course I don't when John is here； or anybody else； but
when I am alone。
And I am alone a good deal just now。 John is kept in town
very often by serious cases； and Jennie is good and lets me alone
when I want her to。
So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane；
sit on the porch under the roses； and lie down up here a good
deal。
I'm getting really fond of the room in spite of the
wall…paper。 Perhaps BECAUSE of the wall…paper。
It dwells in my mind so！
I lie here on this great immovable bedit is nailed down； I
believeand follow that pattern about by the hour。 It is as
good as gymnastics； I assure you。 I start； we'll say； at the
bottom； down in the corner over there where it has not been
touched； and I determine for the thousandth time that I WILL
follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion。
I know a little of the principle of design； and I know this
thing was not arranged on any laws of radiation； or alternation；
or repetition； or symmetry； or anything else that I ever heard
of。
It is repeated； of course； by the breadths； but not
otherwise。
Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone； the bloated
curves and flourishesa kind of 〃debased Romanesque〃 with
delirium tremensgo waddling up and down in isolated columns
of fatuity。
But； on the other hand； they connect diagonally； and the
sprawling outlines run off in great slanting waves of optic
horror； like a lot of wallowing seaweeds in full chase。
The whole thing goes horizontally； too； at least it seems
so； and I exhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of
its going in that direction。
They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze； and that
adds wonderfully to the confusion。
There is one end of the room where it is almost intact； and
there； when the crosslights fade and the low sun shines directly
upon it； I can almost fancy radiation after all；the
interminable grotesques seem to form around a common centre and
rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction。
It makes me tired to follow it。 I will take a nap I guess。
I don't know why I should write this。
I don't want to。
I don't feel able。
And I know John would think it absurd。 But I MUST say
what I feel and think in some wayit is such a relief！
But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief。
Half the time now I am awfully lazy； and lie down ever so
much。
John says I musn't lose my strength； and has me take cod
liver oil and lots of tonics and things； to say nothing of ale
and wine and rare meat。
Dear John！ He loves me very dearly； and hates to have me
sick。 I tried to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him
the other day； and tell him how I wish he would let me go and
make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia。
But he said I wasn't able to go； nor able to stand it after
I got there； and I did not make out a very good case for myself；
for I was crying before I had finished。
It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight。
Just this nervous weakness I suppose。
And dear John gathered me up in his arms； and just carried
me upstairs and laid me on the bed； and sat by me and read to me
till it tired my head。
He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had；
and that I must take care of myself for his sake； and keep well。
He says no one but myself can help me out of it； that I must
use my will and self…control and not let any silly fancies run
away with me。
There's one comfort； the baby is well and happy； and does
not have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wall…paper。
If we had not used it； that blessed child would have！ What
a fortunate escape！ Why； I wouldn't have a child of mine； an
impressionable little thing； live in such a room for worlds。
I never thought of it before； but it is lucky that John kept
me here after all； I can stand it so much easier than a baby； you
see。
Of course I never mention it to them any moreI am too
wise；but I keep watch of it all the same。
There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me； or
ever will。
Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every
day。
It is always the same shape； only very numerous。
And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about
behind that pattern。 I don