and I went up among that crew, and presently I
got aside (for I felt I had no business there) and set off on foot
across the promontory, carrying my wrap and the camera. All horror was
quite gone from me: to see these dread creatures smile and look happy
was beautiful. On my way through Kalaupapa I was exchanging cheerful
_alohas_ with the patients coming galloping over on their horses; I was
stopping to gossip at house-doors; I was happy, only ashamed of myself
that I was here for no good. One woman was pretty, and spoke good
English, and was infinitely engaging and (in the old phrase) towardly;
she thought I was the new white patient; and when she found I was only a
visitor, a curious change came in her face and voice--the only sad
thing, morally sad, I mean--that I met that morning. But for all that,
they tell me none want to leave. Beyond Kalaupapa the houses became
rare; dry stone dykes, grassy, stony land, one sick pandanus; a dreary
country; from overhead in the little clinging wood shogs of the pali
chirruping of birds fell; the low sun was right in my face; the trade
blew pure and cool and delicious; I felt as right as ninepence, and
stopped and chatted with the patients whom I still met on their horses,
with not the least disgust. About half-way over, I met the
superintendent (a leper) with a horse for me, and O, wasn't I glad! But
the horse was one of those curious, dogged, cranky brutes that always
dully want to go somewhere else, and my traffic with him completed my
crushing fatigue. I got to the guest-house, an empty house with several
rooms, kitchen, bath, etc. There was no one there, and I let the horse
go loose in the garden, lay down on the bed, and fell asleep.

Dr. Swift woke me and gave me breakfast, then I came back and slept
again while he was at the dispensary, and he woke me for dinner; and I
came back and slept again, and he woke me about six for supper; and
then in about an hour I felt tired again, and came up to my solitary
guest-house, played the flageolet, and am now writing to you. As yet,
you see, I have seen nothing of the settlement, and my crushing fatigue
(though I believe that was moral and a measure of my cowardice) and the
doctor's opinion make me think the pali hopeless. "You don't look a
strong man," said the doctor; "but are you sound?" I told him the truth;
then he said it was out of the question, and if I were to get up at all,
I must be carried up. But, as it seems, men as wel