_Vailima_, _Summer_ 1892.
MY DEAR BURLINGAME,—First of all, _you have all the corrections on_ ‘_The
Wrecker_.’ I found I had made what I meant and forgotten it, and was so
careless as not to tell you.
Second, of course, and by all means, charge corrections on the Samoa book
to me; but there are not near so many as I feared. The Lord hath dealt
bountifully with me, and I believe all my advisers were amazed to see how
nearly correct I had got the truck, at least I was. With this you will
receive the whole revise and a typewritten copy of the last chapter. And
the thing now is Speed, to catch a possible revision of the treaty. I
believe Cassells are to bring it out, but Baxter knows, and the thing has
to be crammed through _prestissimo_, _à la chasseur_.
You mention the belated Barbeys; what about the equally belated Pineros?
And I hope you will keep your bookshop alive to supplying me continuously
with the _Saga Library_. I cannot get enough of _Sagas_; I wish there
were nine thousand; talk about realism!
All seems to flourish with you; I also prosper; none the less for being
quit of that abhorred task, Samoa. I could give a supper party here were
there any one to sup. Never was such a disagreeable task, but the thing
had to be told. . . .
There, I trust I am done with this cursed chapter of my career, bar the
rotten eggs and broken bottles that may follow, of course. Pray
remember, speed is now all that can be asked, hoped, or wished. I give
up all hope of proofs, revises, proof of the map, or sic like; and you on
your side will try to get it out as reasonably seemly as may be.
Whole Samoa book herewith. Glory be to God.—Yours very sincerely,