Bad pen, bad ink,
bad light, bad
blotting-paper.
_S. S. Mariposa_, _at Sea_.
_Apia due by daybreak to-morrow_ 9 _p.m._
MY DEAR COLVIN,—Have had an amusing but tragic holiday, from which we
return in disarray. Fanny quite sick, but I think slowly and steadily
mending; Belle in a terrific state of dentistry troubles which now seem
calmed; and myself with a succession of gentle colds out of which I at
last succeeded in cooking up a fine pleurisy. By stopping and stewing in
a perfectly airless state-room I seem to have got rid of the pleurisy.
Poor Fanny had very little fun of her visit, having been most of the time
on a diet of maltine and slops—and this while the rest of us were rioting
on oysters and mushrooms. Belle’s only devil in the hedge was the
dentist. As for me, I was entertained at the General Assembly of the
Presbyterian Church, likewise at a sort of artistic club; made speeches
at both, and may therefore be said to have been, like Saint Paul, all
things to all men. I have an account of the latter racket which I meant
to have enclosed in this. . . . Had some splendid photos taken, likewise
a medallion by a French sculptor; met Graham, who returned with us as far
as Auckland. Have seen a good deal too of Sir George Grey; what a
wonderful old historic figure to be walking on your arm and recalling
ancient events and instances! It makes a man small, and yet the extent
to which he approved what I had done—or rather have tried to
do—encouraged me. Sir George is an expert at least, he knows these
races: he is not a small employé with an ink-pot and a Whittaker.
Take it for all in all, it was huge fun: even Fanny had some lively sport
at the beginning; Belle and I all through. We got Fanny a dress on the
sly, gaudy black velvet and Duchesse lace. And alas! she was only able
to wear it once. But we’ll hope to see more of it at Samoa; it really is
lovely. Both dames are royally outfitted in silk stockings, etc. We
return, as from a raid, with our spoils and our wounded. I am now very
dandy: I announced two years ago that I should change. Slovenly youth,
all right—not slovenly age. So really now I am pretty spruce; always a
white shirt, white necktie, fresh shave, silk, socks, O a great sight!—No
more possible,
R. L. S.