e Saturday, so I guess I am not going this
voyage. Even with the particularity with which I write to you, how much
of my life goes unexpressed; my troubles with a madman by the name of
----, a genuine living lunatic, I believe, and jolly dangerous; my
troubles about poor ----, all these have dropped out; yet for moments
they were very instant, and one of them is always present with me.

I have finished copying Chapter XXI. of David--"_solus cum sola_; we
travel together." Chapter XXII., "_Solus cum sola_; we keep house
together," is already drafted. To the end of XXI. makes more than 150
pages of my manuscript--damn this hair--and I only designed the book to
run to about 200; but when you introduce the female sect, a book does
run away with you. I am very curious to see what you will think of my
two girls. My own opinion is quite clear; I am in love with both. I
foresee a few pleasant years of spiritual flirtations. The creator (if I
may name myself, for the sake of argument, by such a name) is
essentially unfaithful. For the duration of the two chapters in which I
dealt with Miss Grant, I totally forgot my heroine, and even--but this
is a flat secret--tried to win away David. I think I must try some day
to marry Miss Grant. I'm blest if I don't think I've got that hair out!
which seems triumph enough; so I conclude.

_Tuesday._--Your infinitesimal correspondence has reached me, and I have
the honour to refer to it with scorn. It contains only one statement of
conceivable interest, that your health is better; the rest is null, and
so far as disquisitory unsound. I am all right, but David Balfour is
ailing; this came from my visit to the man-of-war, where I had a cup of
tea, and the most of that night walked the verandah with extraordinary
convictions of guilt and ruin, many of which (but not all) proved to
have fled with the day, taking David along with them; he R.I.P. in
Chapter XXII.

On Saturday I went down to the town, and fetched up Captain Gibson to
dinner; Sunday I was all day at Samoa, and had a pile of visitors.
Yesterday got my mail, including your despicable sheet; was fooled with
a visit from the high chief Asi, went down at 4 P.M. to my Samoan lesson
from Whitmee--I think I shall learn from him, he does not fool me with
cockshot rules that are demolished next day, but professes ignorance
like a man; the truth is, the grammar has still to be expiscated--dined
with Haggard, and got home about nine.

_Wedn