]._

MY DEAR MRS. FAIRCHILD,--I began a letter to you on board the _Janet
Nicoll_ on my last cruise, wrote, I believe, two sheets, and ruthlessly
destroyed the flippant trash. Your last has given me great pleasure and
some pain, for it increased the consciousness of my neglect. Now, this
must go to you, whatever it is like.

... It is always harshness that one regrets.... I regret also my letter
to Dr. Hyde. Yes, I do; I think it was barbarously harsh; if I did it
now, I would defend Damien no less well, and give less pain to those who
are alive. These promptings of good-humour are not all sound; the three
times three, cheer boys cheer, and general amiability business rests on
a sneaking love of popularity, the most insidious enemy of virtue. On
the whole, it was virtuous to defend Damien; but it was harsh to strike
so hard at Dr. Hyde. When I wrote the letter, I believed he would bring
an action, in which case I knew I could be beggared. And as yet there
has come no action; the injured Doctor has contented himself up to now
with the (truly innocuous) vengeance of calling me a "Bohemian Crank,"
and I have deeply wounded one of his colleagues whom I esteemed and
liked.

Well, such is life. You are quite right; our civilisation is a hollow
fraud, all the fun of life is lost by it; all it gains is that a larger
number of persons can continue to be contemporaneously unhappy on the
surface of the globe. O, unhappy!--there is a big word and a
false--continue to be not nearly--by about twenty per cent.--so happy as
they might be: that would be nearer the mark.

When--observe that word, which I will write again and larger--WHEN you
come to see us in Samoa, you will see for yourself a healthy and happy
people.

You see, you are one of the very few of our friends rich enough to come
and see us; and when my house is built, and the road is made, and we
have enough fruit planted and poultry and pigs raised, it is undeniable
that you must come--must is the word; that is the way in which I speak
to ladies. You and Fairchild, anyway--perhaps my friend Blair--we'll
arrange details in good time. It will be the salvation of your souls,
and make you willing to die.

Let me tell you this: In '74 or 5 there came to stay with my father and
mother a certain Mr. Seed, a prime minister or something of New Zealand.
He spotted what my complaint was; told me that I had no business to stay
in Europe; that I should find all I cared for, and al