The　Yellow　Wallpaper
  by　Charlotte　Perkins　Gilman
  It　is　very　seldom　that　mere　ordinary　people　like　John　and
  myself　secure　ancestral　halls　for　the　summer。
  A　colonial　mansion；　a　hereditary　estate；　I　would　say　a
  haunted　house；　and　reach　the　height　of　romantic　felicitybut
  that　would　be　asking　too　much　of　fate！
  Still　I　will　proudly　declare　that　there　is　something　queer
  about　it。
  Else；　why　should　it　be　let　so　cheaply？　　And　why　have　stood
  so　long　untenanted？
  John　laughs　at　me；　of　course；　but　one　expects　that　in
  marriage。
  John　is　practical　in　the　extreme。　　He　has　no　patience　with
  faith；　an　intense　horror　of　superstition；　and　he　scoffs　openly　at
  any　talk　of　things　not　to　be　felt　and　seen　and　put　down　in
  figures。
  John　is　a　physician；　and　PERHAPS（I　would　not　say　it　to　a
  living　soul；　of　course；　but　this　is　dead　paper　and　a　great　relief
  to　my　mind）PERHAPS　that　is　one　reason　I　do　not　get　well
  faster。
  You　see　he　does　not　believe　I　am　sick！
  And　what　can　one　do？
  If　a　physician　of　high　standing；　and　one's　own　husband；
  assures　friends　and　relatives　that　there　is　really　nothing　the
  matter　with　one　but　temporary　nervous　depressiona　slight
  hysterical　tendencywhat　is　one　to　do？
  My　brother　is　also　a　physician；　and　also　of　high　standing；
  and　he　says　the　same　thing。
  So　I　take　phosphates　or　phosphiteswhichever　it　is；　and
  tonics；　and　journeys；　and　air；　and　exercise；　and　am　absolutely
  forbidden　to　〃work〃　until　I　am　well　again。
  Personally；　I　disagree　with　their　ideas。
  Personally；　I　believe　that　congenial　work；　with　excitement
  and　change；　would　do　me　good。
  But　what　is　one　to　do？
  I　did　write　for　a　while　in　spite　of　them；　but　it　DOES
  exhaust　me　a　good　dealhaving　to　be　so　sly　about　it；　or　else
  meet　with　heavy　opposition。
  I　sometimes　fancy　that　my　condition　if　I　had　less　opposition
  and　more　society　and　stimulusbut　John　says　the　very　worst　thing
  I　can　do　is　to　think　about　my　condition；　and　I　confess　it　always
  makes　me　feel　bad。
  So　I　will　let　it　alone　and　talk　about　the　house。
  The　most　beautiful　place！　　It　is　quite　alone；　standing　well
  back　from　the　road；　quite　three　miles　from　the　village。　　It　makes
  me　think　of　English　places　that　you　read　about；　for　there　are
  hedges　and　walls　and　gates　that　lock；　and　lots　of　separate　little
  houses　for　the　gardeners　and　people。
  There　is　a　DELICIOUS　garden！　　I　never　saw　such　a
  gardenlarge　and　shady；　full　of　box…bordered　paths；　and　lined
  with　long　grape…covered　arbors　with　seats　under　them。
  There　were　greenhouses；　too；　but　they　are　all　broken　now。
  There　was　some　legal　trouble；　I　believe；　something　about　the
  heirs　and　coheirs；　anyhow；　the　place　has　been　empty　for　years。
  That　spoils　my　ghostliness；　I　am　afraid；　but　I　don't
  carethere　is　something　strange　about　the　houseI　can　feel　it。
  I　even　said　so　to　John　one　moonlight　evening；　but　he　said
  what　I　felt　was　a　DRAUGHT；　and　shut　the　window。
  I　get　unreasonably　angry　with　John　sometimes。　　I'm　sure　I
  never　used　to　be　so　sensitive。　　I　think　it　is　due　to　this　nervous
  condition。
  But　John　says　if　I　feel　so；　I　shall　neglect　proper
  self…control；　so　I　take　pains　to　control　myselfbefore　him；　at
  least；　and　that　makes　me　very　tired。
  I　don't　like　our　room　a　bit。　　I　wanted　one　downstairs　that
  opened　on　the　piazza　and　had　roses　all　over　the　window；　and　such
  pretty　old…fashioned　chintz　hangings！　but　John　would　not　hear　of
  it。
  He　said　there　was　only　one　window　and　not　room　for　two　beds；
  and　no　near　room　for　him　if　he　took　another。
  He　is　very　careful　and　loving；　and　hardly　lets　me　stir
  without　special　direction。
  I　have　a　schedule　prescription　for　each　hour　in　the　day；　he
  takes　all　care　from　me；　and　so　I　feel　basely　ungrateful　not　to
  value　it　more。
  He　said　we　came　here　solely　on　my　account；　that　I　was　to
  have　perfect　rest　and　all　the　air　I　could　get。　　〃Your　exercise
  depends　on　your　strength；　my　dear；〃　said　he；　〃and　your　food
  somewhat　on　your　appetite；　but　air　you　can　absorb　all　the　time。〃
  So　we　took　the　nursery　at　the　top　of　the　house。
  It　is　a　big；　airy　room；　the　whole　floor　nearly；　with　windows
  that　look　all　ways；　and　air　and　sunshine　galore。　　It　was　nursery
  first　and　then　playroom　and　gymnasium；　I　should　judge；　for　the
  windows　are　barred　for　little　children；　and　there　are　rings　and
  things　in　the　walls。
  The　paint　and　paper　look　as　if　a　boys'　school　had　used　it。
  It　is　stripped　offthe　paperin　great　patches　all　around　the
  head　of　my　bed；　about　as　far　as　I　can　reach；　and　in　a　great　place
  on　the　other　side　of　the　room　low　down。　　I　never　saw　a　worse
  paper　in　my　life。
  One　of　those　sprawling　flamboyant　patterns　committing　every
  artistic　sin。
  It　is　dull　enough　to　confuse　the　eye　in　following；
  pronounced　enough　to　constantly　irritate　and　provoke　study；　and
  when　you　follow　the　lame　uncertain　curves　for　a　little　distance
  they　suddenly　commit　suicideplunge　off　at　outrageous　angles；
  destroy　themselves　in　unheard　of　contradictions。
  The　color　is　repelllent；　almost　revolting；　a　smouldering
  unclean　yellow；　strangely　faded　by　the　slow…turning　sunlight。
  It　is　a　dull　yet　lurid　orange　in　some　places；　a　sickly
  sulphur　tint　in　others。
  No　wonder　the　children　hated　it！　　I　should　hate　it　myself　if
  I　had　to　live　in　this　room　long。
  There　comes　John；　and　I　must　put　this　away；he　hates　to
  have　me　write　a　word。
  We　have　been　here　two　weeks；　and　I　haven't　felt　like　writing
  before；　since　that　first　day。
  I　am　sitting　by　the　window　now；　up　in　this　atrocious
  nursery；　and　there　is　nothing　to　hinder　my　writing　as　much　as　I
  please；　save　lack　of　strength。
  John　is　away　all　day；　and　even　some　nights　when　his　cases
  are　serious。
  I　am　glad　my　case　is　not　serious！
  But　these　nervous　troubles　are　dreadfully　depressing。
  John　does　not　know　how　much　I　really　suffer。　　He　knows　there
  is　no　REASON　to　suffer；　and　that　satisfies　him。
  Of　course　it　is　only　nervousness。　　It　does　weigh　on　me　so
  not　to　do　my　duty　in　any　way！
  I　meant　to　be　such　a　help　to　John；　such　a　real　rest　and
  comfort；　and　here　I　am　a　comparative　burden　already！
  Nobody　would　believe　what　an　effort　it　is　to　do　what　little
  I　am　able；to　dress　and　entertain；　and　other　things。
  It　is　fortunate　Mary　is　so　good　with　the　baby。　　Such　a　dear
  baby！
  And　yet　I　CANNOT　be　with　him；　it　makes　me　so　nervous。
  I　suppose　John　never　was　nervous　in　his　life。　　He　laughs　at
  me　so　about　this　wall…paper！
  At　first　he　meant　to　repaper　the　room；　but　afterwards　he
  said　that　I　was　letting　it　get　the　better　of　me；　and　that　nothing
  was　worse　for　a　nervous　patient　than　to　give　way　to　such　fancies。
  He　said　that　after　the　wall…paper　was　changed　it　would　be
  the　heavy　bedstead；　and　then　the　barred　windows；　and　then　that
  gate　at　the　head　of　the　stairs；　and　so　on。
  〃You　know　the　place　is　doing　you　good；〃　he　said；　〃and
  really；　dear；　I　don't　care　to　renovate　the　house　just　for　a　three
  months'　rental。〃
  〃Then　do　let　us　go　downstairs；〃　I　said；　〃there　are　such
  pretty　rooms　there。〃
  Then　he　took　me　in　his　arms　and　called　me　a　blessed　little
  goose；　and　said　he　would　go　down　to　the　cellar；　if　I　wished；　and
  have　it　whitewashed　into　the　bargain。
  But　he　is　right　enough　about　the　beds　and　windows　and
  things。
  It　is　an　airy　and　comfortable　room　as　any　one　need　wish；
  and；　of　course；　I　would　not　be　so　silly　as　to　make　him
  uncomfortable　just　for　a　whim。
  I'm　really　getting　quite　fond　of　the　big　room；　all　but　that
  horrid　paper。
  Out　of　one　window　I　can　see　the　garden；　those　mysterious
  deepshaded　arbors；　the　riotous　old…fashioned　flowers；　and　bushes
  and　gnarly　trees。
  Out　of　another　I　get　a　lovely　view　of　the　bay　and　a　little
  private　wharf　belonging　to　the　estate。　　There　is　a　beautiful
  shaded　lane　that　runs　down　there　from　the　house。　　I　always　fancy
  I　see　people　walking　in　these　numerous　paths　and　arbors；　but　John
  has　cautioned　me　not　to　give　way　to　fancy　in　the　least。　　He　says
  that　with　my　imaginative　power　and　habit　of　story…making；　a
  nervous　weakness　like　mine　is　sure　to　lead　to　all　manner　of
  excited　fancies；　and　that　I　ought　to　use　my　will　and　good　sense
  to　check　the　tendency。　　So　I　try。
  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