_Taiti_, _October_ 17_th_, 1888.
DEAR ARCHER,—Though quite unable to write letters, I nobly send you a
line signifying nothing. The voyage has agreed well with all; it has had
its pains, and its extraordinary pleasures; nothing in the world can
equal the excitement of the first time you cast anchor in some bay of a
tropical island, and the boats begin to surround you, and the tattooed
people swarm aboard. Tell Tomarcher, with my respex, that hide-and-seek
is not equal to it; no, nor hidee-in-the-dark; which, for the matter of
that, is a game for the unskilful: the artist prefers daylight, a
good-sized garden, some shrubbery, an open paddock, and—come on, Macduff.
TOMARCHER, I am now a distinguished litterytour, but that was not the
real bent of my genius. I was the best player of hide-and-seek going;
not a good runner, I was up to every shift and dodge, I could jink very
well, I could crawl without any noise through leaves, I could hide under
a carrot plant, it used to be my favourite boast that I always _walked_
into the den. You may care to hear, Tomarcher, about the children in
these parts; their parents obey them, they do not obey their parents; and
I am sorry to tell you (for I dare say you are already thinking the idea
a good one) that it does not pay one halfpenny. There are three sorts of
civilisation, Tomarcher: the real old-fashioned one, in which children
either had to find out how to please their dear papas, or their dear
papas cut their heads off. This style did very well, but is now out of
fashion. Then the modern European style: in which children have to
behave reasonably well, and go to school and say their prayers, or their
dear papas _will know the reason why_. This does fairly well. Then
there is the South Sea Island plan, which does not do one bit. The
children beat their parents here; it does not make their parents any
better; so do not try it.
Dear Tomarcher, I have forgotten the address of your new house, but will
send this to one of your papa’s publishers. Remember us all to all of
you, and believe me, yours respectably,