TŌKYŌ, November, 1898.
DEAR McDONALD,--I have your precious letter. It came all right. I
am very glad that I was mistaken about the registry-business being
neglected--but I thought it my duty to make the remark. As one of
my students says: "A friend is a man to whom you can tell all your
_suspicions_."
Now I am going to tell you something much more than "suspicions." I
think it time;--and I want you to listen, and to think over it.
You do not understand my situation.
One reason that you do not understand is because you are a
bachelor. Another reason is because you are a naval officer _and_ a
bachelor,--consequently to a considerable degree independent of social
conventions of the smaller and meaner kind.
I am in a somewhat critical position and time. Don't make any mistake
about it. Small as I am, I have mountains to lift; and if you do not
realize it, you cannot help it, but can only get your fingers crushed.
Only your fingers--mind! but that will hurt more than you think.