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side of the mountain, which was worn and scarred, healed up, and a great forest of young pines covered it.

THE ELEPHANT
1933
AUGUST 31ST
    A wet day in camp. The rain pattered on the top of the Elephant all night. Mrs “Pop Shop” and I went for our nightly dip in the river. It was cold and took courage and much squealing and knee-shaking. Neither of us has the pluck to exhibit the bulges of fat before the youngsters, so we “mermaid” after dark. [
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    Mrs. Pop Shop is a blister. It’s such a little step over to my camp. My fire is cosy and the animals all about it and Henry hopping about. So she comes and she stays long epochs of time. She doesn’t sit but stands, first on one leg then on the other, and the fat of her sagging and the breath of her wheezing as her voice drones on and on and on. Unfortunately the “pop” trade is slump on these cold, dull days. Even the Rile-My-Biles don’t linger but snort and whiz up and down the highway without stop.
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SEPTEMBER 2ND
    Two woodcutters whom I call Death and Destruction annoy me very much. They race past the Elephant, kicking up dust and making horrid noises. It is terror for the dogs and one never knows where they are coming and going. It’s a crime to let those wood trucks race through the park, cutting up the roads and messing up everything the way they do. What’s the good of the beastly authorities?
    Henry is lots better and very happy and lucid. I catch him singing or at least doing unmusical noises. I’ve shut down on too much Pop Shop blight. The boys were here in our midst all day, making all the dogs bark and swarming into everything. I had the outfit to supper last night and so discharged my full obligation to the tribe. She’s an all-day sucker and the kids like sticks.
    I have constructed myself a studio behind the van against the invasion of Rile-My-Biles on Sunday and the Labour Day holiday. I can’t shut out their squeals and smells but at least they can’t see me. It’s too dark to work in the van. I did a good sketch this morning. I am beginning to settle my neck in the yoke and forge ahead, dragging my burden behind instead of trying to push it ahead and getting my harness all snarled up.
SEPTEMBER 3RD
    It does my heart good to see Henry. He is so happy hearted and (for him) energetic and lucid — nearly normal. We joke along; he is eating and sleeping well too. One day of Rile-My-Biles is over. They were pretty thick and each brought out one or more dogs. My tribe had a dullness in them.
    Well, I had just washed the dishes and self and was about to retire to the studio and work when “they came.” I told them Iwas here and they might. Poor old dears. It is a little break in their snarling lives. The children go for each other as usual. I walked her among the cedars. She loved it all. Smoked incessantly and spat everywhere, her breath like a bad drain. She is always so ill used and thinks everyone is against her. She’d love to be out in camp with me. Oh, oh, oh! Cedars, cedars give me strength, ripe, mellow, subtle growth and tolerance. The old man loves Woo. Chuckles at her antics by the hour. I felt like a jelly bean that had fallen into hot water when they left.
OCTOBER
    […] When Mrs. McVickers was staying with me (thank goodness she is dotty about animals too), one morning she lifted a superfluous pillow from the dresser where it had lain all night and there was a small black rat. Most would have hystericked and screeched. She called me. He was all in, nearly dead, mashed and battered. It was obvious he had come in with the coal for the bin in the hall had been filled the day before. Well, I put him in Susie’s box. They are not the local brown rats but frequent the wharves. Now there is white rat Susie and black rat Sammy. He is terrified of Susie, minds her much more than he minds me. Milk and food bucked him up and now it’s the deuce. How can I resuscitate him and then murder him? He is quite beautiful, he and his God