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The work presents a comic diary of the first man in a primeval garden, recording his bewilderment at a newly arrived companion, the scramble over naming animals and places, and the awkward negotiations of domestic life. Short entries mix wry observations about language, curiosity, and solitude with comic episodes such as renaming landmarks, disputes over food and leisure, curious experiments with animals, and daring excursions near a great waterfall, as both adjust to each other and to the unfamiliar realities of human companionship.
She doesn’t work Sundays, but lies around all tired out, and likes to have the fish wallow over her; and she makes fool noises to amuse it, and pretends to chew its paws, and that makes it laugh. I have not seen a fish before that could laugh. This makes me doubt…. I have come to like Sunday myself. Superintending all the week tires a body so. There ought to be more Sundays. In the old days they were tough, but now they come handy.