TŌKYŌ, April, 1898.
DEAR McDONALD,--Your kindest letter came last night. I must confess to
a feeling of remorse for transferring all my troubles to your broader
shoulders,--a remorse tempered somewhat, of course, by the certainty
that you find a pleasure in helping your friend, but nevertheless, a
remorse. So pray do not do anything more than you find it pleasant and
inexpensive to do.
We are under the weather for the moment. We shall not be able to profit
by the holidays. I have escaped cold and all other troubles; but I could
not escape the generally depressing influence of this chilly, sunless,
muddy, slimy season. In other words, I feel too stupid to do anything.
Probably the sight of the sun will make us all feel happy again.
Of course I shall be unhappy till I get your photos,--both military
and civilian. I fear to ask too many; but all I can get, I want. Don't
hurry; but--don't forget me, if you think I deserve to be remembered.
I am a little anxious lest war take you away from Japan, which would
leave me less satisfied with this world than I now am. But I should like
indeed to accompany you in a descent on Manila, and to chronicle events
picturesquely.
I should never be able, however, to do anything so wonderful as did
Loti in describing the French attack on the coast of Annam. It was the
greatest literary feat ever done by a naval officer; but it nearly cost
him his place in the navy, and did in fact suppress him for several
years. In his reissue of the narrative I see that he was obliged to
suppress the terrible notes on the killing.
Ever affectionately,
LAFCADIO HEARN.