Judith Giddings Judy Klaer-Kern.. Larry Conger Laurel Mountain.. Mel Bay Michael Allen Michael Kelly Mill Run Dulcim.. Phyllis Gaskins Phyllis Woods B.. Ruth Smith Saga Musical In.. Shubb Snark Songbird Dulcim.. Square Thirteen Square Thirteen St. We had an alarm of war since last I wrote my screeds to you, and it blew over, and is to blow on again, and the rumour goes they are to begin by killing all the whites.
I have no belief in this, and should be infinitely sorry if it came to pass — I do not mean for us , that were otiose — but for the poor, deluded schoolboys, who should hope to gain by such a step. No diary this time. I have only sent out four Letters, and two chapters of the Wrecker. Yes, but to get these I have written pp. I was days and days over the first letter of the lot — days and days writing and deleting and making no headway whatever, till I thought I should have gone bust; but it came at last after a fashion, and the rest went a thought more easily, though I am not so fond as to fancy any better.
Your opinion as to the letters as a whole is so damnatory that I put them by. And these Gilbert Island papers, being the most interesting in matter, and forming a compact whole, and being well illustrated, I did think of as a possible resource. A Tale of a Tapu.
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Domestic Life — which might be omitted, but not well, better be recast. Foundation of Equator Town. The Palace of Mary Warren. Equator Town and the Palace. The Devil Work Box. Tail piece; the Court upon a Journey. I wish you to watch these closely, judging them as a whole, and treating them as I have asked you, and favour me with your damnatory advice. I look up at your portrait, and it frowns upon me. You seem to view me with reproach. The expression is excellent; Fanny wept when she saw it, and you know she is not given to the melting mood.
She seems really better; I have a touch of fever again, I fancy overwork, and today, when I have overtaken my letters, I shall blow on my pipe. I could hear her voice in every note; yet I had forgot the air entirely, and began to pipe it from notes as something new, when I was brought up with a round turn by this reminiscence. We are now very much installed; the dining-room is done, and looks lovely. Soon we shall begin to photograph and send you our circumstances. My room is still a howling wilderness. I sleep on a platform in a window, and strike my mosquito bar and roll up my bedclothes every morning, so that the bed becomes by day a divan.
A great part of the floor is knee-deep in books, yet nearly all the shelves are filled, alas! It is a place to make a pig recoil, yet here are my interminable labours begun daily by lamp-light, and sometimes not yet done when the lamp has once more to be lighted. The effect of pictures in this place is surprising. They give great pleasure. I had my breakfast this morning at 4.
My new cook has beaten me and as Lloyd says revenged all the cooks in the world.
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I have been hunting them to give me breakfast early since I was twenty; and now here comes Mr. Ratke, and I have to plead for mercy. I cannot stand 4. Yesterday it was about 5. It is like a London season, and as I do not take a siesta once in a month, and then only five minutes, I am being worn to the bones, and look aged and anxious.
My Dear Colvin , — Yours from Lochinver has just come. You ask me if I am ever homesick for the Highlands and the Isles. I had to take a rest; no use talking; so I put in a month over my lives of the Stevensons with great pleasure and profit and some advance; one chapter and a part drafted. The whole promises well Chapter I. A Family of Boys. My materials for my great-grandfather are almost null; for my grandfather copious and excellent. Advise; but it will take long. They have now been months here on their big salaries — and Cedarcrantz, whom I specially like as a man, has done nearly nothing, and the Baron, who is well-meaning, has done worse.
They have these large salaries, and they have all the taxes; they have made scarce a foot of road; they have not given a single native a position — all to white men; they have scarce laid out a penny on Apia, and scarce a penny on the King; they have forgot they were in Samoa, or that such a thing as Samoans existed, and had eyes and some intelligence. The Chief Justice has refused to pay his customs! The President proposed to have an expensive house built for himself, while the King, his master, has none!
I had stood aside, and been a loyal, and, above all, a silent subject, up to then; but now I snap my fingers at their Malo.
And this is not all. I showed my way of thought to his guest, Count Wachtmeister, whom I have sent to you with a letter — he will tell you all the news. Well, the Chief Justice stayed, but they said he was to leave yesterday. I had intended to go down, and see and warn him! Thus I have in a way withdrawn my unrewarded loyalty.
Lloyd is down today with Moors to call on Mataafa; the news of the excursion made a considerable row in Apia, and both the German and the English consuls besought Lloyd not to go. But he stuck to his purpose, and with my approval. The sense of my helplessness here has been rather bitter; I feel it wretched to see this dance of folly and injustice and unconscious rapacity go forward from day to day, and to be impotent.
I was not consulted — or only by one man, and that on particular points; I did not choose to volunteer advice till some pressing occasion; I have not even a vote, for I am not a member of the municipality. What ails you, miserable man, to talk of saving material? The ground or country of the leaves. I do not feel inclined to make a volume of Essays, but if I did, and perhaps the idea is good — and any idea is better than South Seas — here would be my choice of the Scribner articles: I have just interrupted my letter and read through the chapter of the High Woods that is written, a chapter and a bit, some sixteen pages, really very fetching, but what do you wish?
What am I to do? Make another end to it? To make another end, that is to make the beginning all wrong. Well, I shall end by finishing it against my judgment; that fragment is my Delilah. I am not shining by modesty; but I do just love the colour and movement of that piece so far as it goes. I was surprised to hear of your fishing. However, all is arranged for our meeting in Ceylon, except the date and the blooming pounds.
Kennedy as to Lighthouse Repairs. Peace and war were played before his eyes at heads or tails. A German was stopped with levelled guns; he raised his whip; had it fallen, we might have been now in war. Excuses were made by Mataafa himself. Doubtless the thing was done — I mean the stopping of the German — a little to show off before Lloyd. Cedarcrantz is gone; it is not my fault; he knows my views on that point — alone of all points; — he leaves me with my mouth sealed. Yet this is a nice thing that because he is guilty of a fresh offence — his flight — the mouth of the only possible influential witness should be closed?
I do not like this argument. True; but why did he go? It is his last sin.
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And I, who like the man extremely — that is the word — I love his society — he is intelligent, pleasant, even witty, a gentleman — and you know how that attaches — I loathe to seem to play a base part; but the poor natives — who are like other folk, false enough, lazy enough, not heroes, not saints — ordinary men damnably misused — are they to suffer because I like Cedarcrantz, and Cedarcrantz has cut his lucky?
This is a little tragedy, observe well — a tragedy! I may be right, I may be wrong in my judgment, but I am in treaty with my honour. I know not how it will seem tomorrow. Lloyd thought the barrier of honour insurmountable, and it is an ugly obstacle. He Cedarcrantz will likely meet my wife three days from now, may travel back with her, will be charming if he does; suppose this, and suppose him to arrive and find that I have sprung a mine — or the nearest approach to it I could find — behind his back?
My position is pretty. Yes, I am an aristocrat. I have the old petty, personal view of honour? I should blush till I die if I do this; yet it is on the cards that I may do it. So much I have written you in bed, as a man writes, or talks, in a bittre Wahl. Now I shall sleep, and see if I am more clear. I will consult the missionaries at least — I place some reliance in M. A fund of wisdom in the prostrate body and the fed brain.
Nobody but these cursed idiots could have so driven me; I cannot bear idiots. My dear Colvin, I must go to sleep; it is long past ten — a dreadful hour for me. And here am I lingering so I feel in the dining-room at the Monument, talking to you across the table, both on our feet, and only the two stairs to mount, and get to bed, and sleep, and be waked by dear old George — to whom I wish my kindest remembrances — next morning. I look round, and there is my blue room, and my long lines of shelves, and the door gaping on a moonless night, and no word of S.
Good-bye, my dear fellow, and goodnight. Queer place the world! No clearness of mind with the morning; I have no guess what I should do. One more word about the South Seas, in answer to a question I observe I have forgotten to answer.
The Tahiti part has never turned up, because it has never been written. As for telling you where I went or when, or anything about Honolulu, I would rather die; that is fair and plain. How can anybody care when or how I left Honolulu? A man of upwards of forty cannot waste his time in communicating matter of that indifference.
The letters, it appears, are tedious; they would be more tedious still if I wasted my time upon such infantile and sucking-bottle details. If ever I put in any such detail, it is because it leads into something or serves as a transition. To tell it for its own sake, never! The mistake is all through that I have told too much; I had not sufficient confidence in the reader, and have overfed him; and here are you anxious to learn how I— O Colvin!
Suppose it had made a book, all such information is given to one glance of an eye by a map with a little dotted line upon it. But let us forget this unfortunate affair. Yesterday I went down to consult Clarke, who took the view of delay. Has he changed his mind already? Some little while back some men of Manono — what is Manono? Some men of Manono which is strong Mataafa burned down the houses and destroyed the crops of some Malietoa neighbours. The President went there the other day and landed alone on the island, which to give him his due was plucky.
Moreover, he succeeded in persuading the folks to come up and be judged on a particular day in Apia. And the trick was done. But it was ardently believed a rescue would be attempted; the gaol was laid about with armed men day and night; but there was some question of their loyalty, and the commandant of the forces, a very nice young beardless Swede, became nervous, and conceived a plan.
How if he should put dynamite under the gaol, and in case of an attempted rescue blow up prison and all? He went to the President, who agreed; he went to the American man-of-war for the dynamite and machine, was refused, and got it at last from the Wreckers. The thing began to leak out, and there arose a muttering in town. People had no fancy for amateur explosions, for one thing. And lastly, it seemed a somewhat advanced example of civilisation to set before barbarians. The mutter in short became a storm, and yesterday, while I was down, a cutter was chartered, and the prisoners were suddenly banished to the Tokelaus.
Who has changed the sentence? We are going to stir in the dynamite matter; we do not want the natives to fancy us consenting to such an outrage. Fanny has returned from her trip, and on the whole looks better. The High Woods are under way, and their name is now the Beach of Falesa , and the yarn is cured. I have about thirty pages of it done; it will be fifty to seventy I suppose. What will Cedarcrantz think when he comes back?
To do him justice, had he been here, this Manono hash would not have been. Here is a pretty thing. I was all yesterday revising, and found a lot of slacknesses and what is worse in this kind of thing some literaryisms. One of the puzzles is this: It is a first person story — a trader telling his own adventure in an island. When I began I allowed myself a few liberties, because I was afraid of the end; now the end proved quite easy, and could be done in the pace; so the beginning remains about a quarter tone out in places ; but I have rather decided to let it stay so.
Everybody else who has tried, that I have seen, got carried away by the romance, and ended in a kind of sugar-candy sham epic, and the whole effect was lost — there was no etching, no human grin, consequently no conviction. Now I have got the smell and look of the thing a good deal. You will know more about the South Seas after you have read my little tale than if you had read a library.
As to whether any one else will read it, I have no guess. I am in an off time, but there is just the possibility it might make a hit; for the yarn is good and melodramatic, and there is quite a love affair — for me; and Mr. Wiltshire the narrator is a huge lark, though I say it. Since I wrote, I have been likewise drawing up a document to send it to the President; it has been dreadfully delayed, not by me, but today they swear it will be sent in. A list of questions about the dynamite report are herein laid before him, and considerations suggested why he should answer. Ever since my last snatch I have been much chivied about over the President business; his answer has come, and is an evasion accompanied with schoolboy insolence, and we are going to try to answer it.
I drew my answer and took it down yesterday; but one of the signatories wants another paragraph added, which I have not yet been able to draw, and as to the wisdom of which I am not yet convinced. We are all in rather a muddled state with our President affair. I do loathe politics, but at the same time, I cannot stand by and have the natives blown in the air treacherously with dynamite.
They are still quiet; how long this may continue I do not know, though of course by mere prescription the Government is strengthened, and is probably insured till the next taxes fall due. But the unpopularity of the whites is growing. One of the proud ones had threatened yesterday to cut off his head with a bush knife!
The natives are generally courtly, far from always civil, but really gentle, and with a strong sense of honour of their own, and certainly quite as much civilised as our dynamiting President. We shall be delighted to see Kipling. I go to bed usually about half-past eight, and my lamp is out before ten; I breakfast at six. We may say roughly we have no soda water on the island, and just now truthfully no whisky. I have heard the chimes at midnight; now no more, I guess. But — Fanny and I, as soon as we can get coins for it, are coming to Europe, not to England: I am thinking of Royat.
If not, perhaps the Apennines might give us a mountain refuge for two months or three in summer. How is that for high? But the money must be all in hand first. How am I to describe my life these last few days? I have been wholly swallowed up in politics, a wretched business, with fine elements of farce in it too, which repay a man in passing, involving many dark and many moonlight rides, secret counsels which are at once divulged, sealed letters which are read aloud in confidence to the neighbours, and a mass of fudge and fun, which would have driven me crazy ten years ago, and now makes me smile.
I do not quite know — but, I suspect, to be tattooed — if so, then probably to be married, and we shall see him no more. I told him he must do what he thought his duty; we had him to lunch, drank his health, and he and I rode down about twelve. When I got down, I sent my horse back to help bring down the family later. My own afternoon was cut out for me; my last draft for the President had been objected to by some of the signatories. I stood out, and one of our small number accordingly refused to sign.
Him I had to go and persuade, which went off very well after the first hottish moments; you have no idea how stolid my temper is now. Henry was in a kilt of gray shawl, with a blue jacket, white shirt and black necktie, and looked like a dark genteel guest in a Highland shooting-box. Seumanu opposite Fanny, next G. Faatulia, next me, is a bigger chief than her husband. We were in fine society, and had a pleasant meal-time, with lots of fun. Then to the Opera — I beg your pardon, I mean the Circus. We occupied the first row in the reserved seats, and there in the row behind were all our friends — Captain Foss and his Captain-Lieutenant, three of the American officers, very nice fellows, the Dr.
Then the Circus broke up, and the party went home, but I stayed down, having business on the morrow. Yesterday, October 12th, great news reaches me, and Lloyd and I, with the mail just coming in, must leave all, saddle, and ride down. True enough, the President had resigned! Sad little President, so trim to look at, and I believe so kind to his little wife! Not only so, but I meet D.
Then to dinner at M. Slight sketch of procedure agreed upon, self appointed spokesman, and the deputation sets off. We are told to return tomorrow; I refuse; and at last we are very sourly received, sit on the mats, and I open out, through a very poor interpreter, and sometimes hampered by unacceptable counsels from my backers. I can speak fairly well in a plain way now. I suppose talking and interpreting I was twenty minutes or half-an-hour on the deck; then his majesty replied in the dying whisper of a big chief; a few words of rejoinder approving , and the deputation withdrew, rather well satisfied.
A few days ago this intervention would have been a deportable offence; not now, I bet; I would like them to try. A little way back along Mulinuu, Mrs. Here ends a chapter in the life of an island politician! I have had a good team, as good as I could get on the beach; but what trouble even so, and what fresh troubles shaping.
But I have on the whole carried all my points; I believe all but one, and on that which did not concern me I had no right to interfere. I am sure you would be amazed if you knew what a good hand I am at keeping my temper, talking people over, and giving reasons which are not my reasons, but calculated for the meridian of the particular objection; so soon does falsehood await the politician in his whirling path. Before falling on politics, I shall give you my day.
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Awoke somewhere about the first peep of day, came gradually to, and had a turn on the verandah before 5. Such are the innocent days of this ancient and outworn sportsman; today there was no weeding, usually there is however, edge in somewhere. A hideous idea came over me that perhaps Harrison is now getting old. Oh, this infidelity must be stared firmly down.
Here has just been a fine alert; I gave my wife a dose of chlorodyne.
I smelt it, and — it smelt very funny. Lunch, chat, and up to my place to practise; but there was no practising for me — my flageolet was gone wrong, and I had to take it all to pieces, clean it, and put it up again. As this is a most intricate job — the thing dissolves into seventeen separate members, most of these have to be fitted on their individual springs as fine as needles, and sometimes two at once with the springs shoving different ways — it took me till two.
Then Lloyd and I rode forth on our errands; first to Motootua, where we had a really instructive conversation on weeds and grasses. Thence down to Apia, where we bought a fresh bottle of chlorodyne and conversed on politics. Then back; I should have said I was trying the new horse; a tallish piebald, bought from the circus; he proved steady and safe, but in very bad condition, and not so much the wild Arab steed of the desert as had been supposed. The height of his back, after commodious Jack, astonished me, and I had a great consciousness of exercise and florid action, as I posted to his long, emphatic trot.
We had to ride back easy; even so he was hot and blown; and when we set a boy to lead him to and fro, our last character for sanity perished. We returned just neat for dinner; and in the evening our violinist arrived, a young lady, no great virtuoso truly, but plucky, industrious, and a good reader; and we played five pieces with huge amusement, and broke up at nine.
This morning I have read a splendid piece of Montaigne, written this page of letter, and now turn to the Wrecker. Wednesday — November 16th or 17th — and I am ashamed to say mail day. The worst of my news is the influenza; Apia is devastate; the shops closed, a ball put off, etc. As yet we have not had it at Vailima, and, who knows? None of us go down, but of course the boys come and go. It fills the bill; I have the loveliest time. And as for wars and rumours of wars, you surely know enough of me to be aware that I like that also a thousand times better than decrepit peace in Middlesex?
I do not quite like politics; I am too aristocratic, I fear, for that. Hence my late eruption was interesting, but not what I like. All else suits me in this killed a mosquito A1 abode. A determination was come to by the President that he had been an idiot; emissaries came to G. We all wrote back in the most friendly spirit, telling him politely that some of these days he would be sorry, and we should be delighted to see our friend again. Since then I have seen no German shadow. Mataafa has been proclaimed a rebel; the President did this act, and then resigned.
By singular good fortune, Mataafa has not yet moved; no thanks to our idiot governors. It is always a cry with these folk that he Mataafa had no ammunition. I always said it would be found; and we know of five boat-loads that have found their way to Malie already. Where there are traders, there will be ammunition; aphorism by R. Lives of the Stevensons? A History for Children?
I have had two hard months at fiction; I want a change. I am expecting some more material; perhaps better wait. Samoa; rather tempting; might be useful to the islands — and to me; for it will be written in admirable temper; I have never agreed with any party, and see merits and excuses in all; should do it if I did very slackly and easily, as if half in conversation. This flows from my lessons to Austin; no book is any good. I found my sketch of general Aryan History, given in conversation, to have been practically correct — at least what I mean is, Freeman had very much the same stuff in his early chapters, only not so much, and I thought not so well placed; and the child remembered some of it.
Now the difficulty is to give this general idea of main place, growth, and movement; it is needful to tack it on a yarn. Now Scotch is the only History I know; it is the only history reasonably represented in my library; it is a very good one for my purpose, owing to two civilisations having been face to face throughout — or rather Roman civilisation face to face with our ancient barbaric life and government, down to yesterday, to anyway. I cannot compete with that; and yet, so far as regards teaching History, how he has missed his chances!
Scott never knew the Highlands; he was always a Borderer. He has missed that whole, long, strange, pathetic story of our savages, and, besides, his style is not very perspicuous to childhood. Whether to go, what to attack. Must go to other letters; shall add to this, if I have time. In spite of the loss of three days, as I have to tell, and a lot of weeding and cacao planting, I have finished since the mail left four chapters, forty-eight pages of my Samoa history.
It is true that the first three had been a good deal drafted two years ago, but they had all to be written and re-written, and the fourth chapter is all new. The Success of Laupepa. Furor Consularis — a devil of a long chapter. Government under the Treaty of Berlin. Say three-sixths of it are done, maybe more; by this mail five chapters should go, and that should be a good half of it; say sixty pages. And if you consider that I sent by last mail the end of the Wrecker , coming on for seventy or eighty pages, and the mail before that the entire Tale of the Beach of Falesa , I do not think I can be accused of idleness.
This is my season; I often work six and seven, and sometimes eight hours; and the same day I am perhaps weeding or planting for an hour or two more — and I daresay you know what hard work weeding is — and it all agrees with me at this time of the year — like — like idleness, if a man of my years could be idle. My first visit to Apia was a shock to me; every second person the ghost of himself, and the place reeking with infection.
But I have not got the thing yet, and hope to escape. This shows how much stronger I am; think of me flitting through a town of influenza patients seemingly unscathed. We are all on the cacao planting. The next day my wife and I rode over to the German plantation, Vailele, whose manager is almost the only German left to speak to us. Seventy labourers down with influenza! It is a lovely ride, half-way down our mountain towards Apia, then turn to the right, ford the river, and three miles of solitary grass and cocoa palms, to where the sea beats and the wild wind blows unceasingly about the plantation house.
I must say I like your order. And the papers are some of them up to dick, and no mistake. I agree with you the lights seem a little turned down. The truth is, I was far through if you understand Scots , and came none too soon to the South Seas, where I was to recover peace of body and mind. No man but myself knew all my bitterness in those days. Remember that, the next time you think I regret my exile.
And however low the lights are, the stuff is true, and I believe the more effective; after all, what I wish to fight is the best fought by a rather cheerless presentation of the truth. The world must return some day to the word duty, and be done with the word reward. There are no rewards, and plenty duties. And the sooner a man sees that and acts upon it like a gentleman or a fine old barbarian, the better for himself.
There is my usual puzzle about publishers. Chatto ought to have it, as he has all the other essays; these all belong to me, and Chatto publishes on terms. Longman has forgotten the terms we are on; let him look up our first correspondence, and he will see I reserved explicitly, as was my habit, the right to republish as I choose. I should love a preface by you, as short or as long as you choose, three sentences, thirty pages, the thing I should like is your name.
And the excuse of my great distance seems sufficient. I shall return with this the sheets corrected as far as I have them; the rest I will leave, if you will, to you entirely; let it be your book, and disclaim what you dislike in the preface. You can say it was at my eager prayer. I should say I am the less willing to pass Chatto over, because he behaved the other day in a very handsome manner.
He asked leave to reprint Damien ; I gave it to him as a present, explaining I could receive no emolument for a personal attack. And he took out my share of profits, and sent them in my name to the Leper Fund. I could not bear after that to take from him any of that class of books which I have always given him. Tell him the same terms will do. Clark to print, uniform with the others. I have lost all the days since this letter began re-handling Chapter IV. I do not go in for literature; address myself to sensible people rather than to sensitive.
And, indeed, it is a kind of journalism, I have no right to dally; if it is to help, it must come soon. In two months from now it shall be done, and should be published in the course of March. I propose Cassell gets it. I recoil from serious names; they seem so much too pretentious for a pamphlet. It will be about the size of Treasure Island , I believe. Of course, as you now know, my case of conscience cleared itself off, and I began my intervention directly to one of the parties.
The other, the Chief Justice, I am to inform of my book the first occasion. God knows if the book will do any good — or harm; but I judge it right to try. I must not stand and slouch, but do my best as best I can. But you may conceive the difficulty of a history extending to the present week, at least, and where almost all the actors upon all sides are of my personal acquaintance. The only way is to judge slowly, and write boldly, and leave the issue to fate. I am far indeed from wishing to confine myself to creative work; that is a loss, the other repairs; the one chance for a man, and, above all, for one who grows elderly, ahem, is to vary drainage and repair.
That is the one thing I understand — the cultivation of the shallow solum of my brain. But I would rather, from soon on, be released from the obligation to write. In five or six years this plantation — suppose it and us still to exist — should pretty well support us and pay wages; not before, and already the six years seem long to me. If literature were but a pastime! I wish all my publishers were not so nice. An online download for great play-along audio is included with the purchase.
This project is more than just a book of fun-to-play standard Canadian fiddle tunes. It digs deeper into Canadian styles and teaches players how to come up with their own variations using classic ornamentation and bowing patterns. Each tune is presented with its basic and easiest melody first. This version has the simplest bowings and little if any ornamentation. Following the basic melody, each tune is notated a second and third time demonstrating more advanced ornaments and bowing patterns that are traditional in the region of Canada where the tune originates.
An extremely exciting bonus to this method is the 60 minute play-along audio that is included with each book.