ly. For
me to assist in an appeal to that Congress of land-thieves and liars
would be to bring derision upon it; and for me to assist in an appeal
for cash to pass through the hands of those missionaries out there,
of any denomination, Catholic or Protestant, wouldn't do at all. They
wouldn't handle money which I had soiled, and I wouldn't trust them
with it, anyway. They would devote it to the relief of suffering--I
know that--but the sufferers selected would be converts. The
missionary-utterances exhibit no humane feeling toward the others, but
in place of it a spirit of hate and hostility. And it is natural;
the Bible forbids their presence there, their trade is unlawful, why
shouldn't their characters be of necessity in harmony with--but never
mind, let it go, it irritates me.

Later.... I have been reading Yung Wing's letter again. It may be that
he is over-wrought by his sympathies, but it may not be so. There may
be other reasons why the missionaries are silent about the Shensi-2-year
famine and cannibalism. It may be that there are so few Protestant
converts there that the missionaries are able to take care of them.
That they are not likely to largely concern themselves about Catholic
converts and the others, is quite natural, I think.

That crude way of appealing to this Government for help in a cause which
has no money in it, and no politics, rises before me again in all its
admirable innocence! Doesn't Yung Wing know us yet? However, he has
been absent since '96 or '97. We have gone to hell since then. Kossuth
couldn't raise 30 cents in Congress, now, if he were back with his
moving Magyar-Tale.

I am on the front porch (lower one--main deck) of our little bijou of a
dwelling-house. The lake-edge (Lower Saranac) is so nearly under me
that I can't see the shore, but only the water, small-pored with
rain-splashes--for there is a heavy down-pour. It is charmingly like
sitting snuggled up on a ship's deck with the stretching sea all
around--but very much more satisfactory, for at sea a rain-storm is
depressing, while here of course the effect engendered is just a deep
sense of comfort and contentment. The heavy forest shuts us solidly
in on three sides there are no neighbors. There are beautiful little
tan-colored impudent squirrels about. They take tea, 5 p. m., (not
invited) at the table in the woods where Jean does my typewriting, and
one of them has been brave enough to sit upon Jean's knee with his tail