1st draft, August 1927, I.6§3 draft level 0

MS British Library 47473 216-223 Draft details

{ms, 216}

The Moose and the Grapes

A moose he would a walking go so he |adrubbed his eyes, ascented his nose, packed up his earsa| put on his impermeable and stepped out of his immobile and set off to see how badness was badness in the |awest of all possible waste of all parsablea| words. He had not made but a few parsecs when at the dirty of a wrong lane |ahe met the Grapes he came upon a |blittle river streamb|a|. |aIt was little and it was brown and it was narrow and it was shallow. And as it ran it dribbled |blike any lively purl-it easyb|. My, my my! Me me me! Little brown dream don't I love me? |bAnd, I declare! Who was there on the yonder side of the stream, parched on |cthe ac| limb of the olum but the Grapes.b|a| |aThe Grapes no doubt hea| was fit to be dried for why had he not been having the juice of his time? His pips had been nearly all drowned on him, his polps were charging odours every older minute, he was |aquicklya| for getting the dresser's designs |ainto the flypape on the flypagea| of his frons and he was quietly |aforgiving for givinga| the bailiff's distrain on to the balkside of his
{ms, 217v}
cul de pompe. In all his specious heavings, as he lived by Optimus Maximus, the moose had never seen |ablank scapegrapesa| his brooder so near a pickle. “Woe, He stood before the Grapes |aand looked up aurignacian in his outfit in an outfit |ballb| of Aurignaciana|. “Fie, sour!” said he to the scapegrapes “Have you not a shambleful Our Father blank
{ms, 218v}

He |asaw sora| a stone and on that stone he sate his seat |alike |bwhere whichb| it filled |btob| the |bfull fullestb| justotoryuma| and |a|bwhereon whereuponb|a| with his unfallable upon his in alloilable and |athe pederect he walked with blanka| his fresherman's trop blague |aBellua Triumphansa| he |awas the looked the lasta| laical likenesses of |aof Quartus V Quintus the Sixth |b|ctaking givingc| allnight sittings tob|a| Leo of the Faultyfinth.

|aGood appetitea| How do you do it, |aMr the sira| Mookse? cheeped the Gripes |a|bin a wherry whoggy woiceb| and the jackasses laughed at his voice for they knew their sly toad lowry wella| I am blessed to see you, my dear mister. Will you not |aperhaps perhopesa| tell me everything, if you are pleased, |asir sanitya|?

|aBlast yourself, Rats!a| roared the Mookse and the mice quailed to hear him at all for you cannot |amake wakea| a silken noise out of a hoarse oar. |aBlast yourself!a| No, hang you! I am superbly in my |ahealth supreme poncifa|. Rot!

— I am till infinity obliged with you, said the Gripes. I am |astill alwaysa| having a |awatch wisha| on all my extremities. By the watch, what is the time?, pace?

|aAsk my index!a| Quote awhore! replied the Mookse |ain highest of humour |brapidly becoming clement urban & celestinalb|a|. It is |ajust quitea| about what I came for. Let there be
{ms, 219}
orlog. Let here be Irene. Let you be Beeton. And let me be Los Angelos. Well, sour, do you give |ait youa| up?

— I |awill cana| never give you up, replied the Gripes with |athe hisa| nethermost |adespair wanhopea|. My temple is my own. But I |ahear Ia| can |anever rarelya| tell you how whose a'cloak you are.

— My building space is always to let to men, replied concluded the Mookse. My side is |aasa| safe as houses|a. anda| I see what it is to be seen. |aParis |bParyses Parysisb|a| belongs to |ahe who praises him who parisesa| himself. I can prove it against you|a, my good enemya|. I bet you a this dozen of tomes.
{ms, 220}

He proved it by Neuclid, by Inexagoras, by Mummsen, by |aThumpsun Thumpsona|, by Orasmus, and by O. Hone and after that he reproved it altogether by after the binomial the dioram and the penic law walls and inklespill legends and the rune of the hoop and the the |alesson lessonsa| of expedience and the |ajudicats judycatsa| of Puncher's Pylax.

There was a little c Cloud in her lightdress looking down on them, listening all she could. She was alone. All her nuby compinions were |asleeping asleepinga| like the squirrels. Their |amother mivvera|, Mrs Moonan, was away scrubbing the back steps at no 28. And as for the fur fuvver he was round up in Norwood's sokaparlor eating oceans of ice. She listened as she |alistened reflected herselfa| and she tried all she tried to make the
{ms, 221}
Mooks look up at her (but he was far too farseeing) and to make the Gripes hear how how quiet she was (|abut thougha| he was not much too auricular about himself) but it was all |achild's |bcloud's child'sb|a| labour lost. |a|bNot even her reflection would they take their |cnotice of noses offc|.b| She tried all the |bwilyb| ways the four winds had taught hera| She tossed her hair like the little princess de Bretagne and she rounded her arms like Mrs Cornwallis West and she smiled over herself like the |aimage of thea| daughter of the queen of the emperor of Ireland and she sighed after herself like the bride of Tristis Tristissimus. But she might just as well have carried a daisy's grace to Florida. For the Mooks was not amooksed and the Gripes was painfully |aoblivious obliviscenta|. |aYou see, |bmy dears,b| they were menner.a|
{ms, 222}

Night Dusk to dusk, the shades gathered along the brightening l river banks and it was as gloomy as gloaming could be in the west of all peacable wolds. The Moose had eyes |abut he could not yet he would not alla| hear. The Grapes had ears |abut he would yet he coulda| but ill see. And he ceased. And he ceased. And it was ever so |adark of both of them dusky of them botha|. |aBut one thought of all how |bmoose moochb| he would say the next to on the morrow and the other of all the scrapes he would be creeped out ofa|. |aSo that the tears of night began to fall for the tired ones were weeping |b|c& asc| we weep, now, with themb|.a| Then there came down to the one bank a a woman of no appearance |a(I |bthink believeb| she was a Black)a| and she gathered up moose where he was spread and |abore carrieda| him away to her invisible cottage for he was the holy sacred spit of a |abishop's bushop'sa| apron. And there came down to the other bank another woman blank (still we are told that she is comely) and, for he
{ms, 223v}
was as like it as blow it to a halpenny hank, she plucked |aaway downa| the grapes and carried |a|bit himb|a| away with her to her little grey home unseen shieling. And it was never so thoughtful of either of them. And there were left by their banks an only elmtree and but |aa onea| stone. |aThen |athe little a smalla| cloud made her up |ballb| her |blittleb| minds. |bShe reflected for the last time in her short life.b| She climbed over the banisters and awd, poof! She was gone. And there fell into the river the last tear & the loveliest, |bfor it was ab| a leap tear. |x28 = 1 + (2 + 3 + 4 + 5) + 6 + 7 / 14x|a| |aAnd Buta| the river |aslipped between them tripped on her by and bya|, lapping as if her heart was |abroke brooka|. Why, why, why? |aO weh, O weh, I am sorry Weh, O weh, I's so sillya| to be flowing but I |amust not no cannaa| stay!