ought to be a future state to reward that grind! It's not
literature, you know; only journalism, and pedantic
journalism. I had but the one desire, to get the thing as
right as might be, and avoid false concords - even if that!
And it was more than there was time for. However, there it
is: done. And if Samoa turns up again my book has to be
counted with, being the only narrative extant. Milton and I
- if you kindly excuse the juxtaposition - harnessed
ourselves to strange waggons, and I at least will be found to
have plodded very soberly with my load. There is not even a
good sentence in it, but perhaps - I don't know - it may be
found an honest, clear volume.


WEDNESDAY.


Never got a word set down, and continues on Thursday 19th
May, his own marriage day as ever was. News; yes. The C. J.
came up to call on us! After five months' cessation on my
side, and a decidedly painful interchange of letters, I could
not go down - could not - to see him. My three ladies
received him, however; he was very agreeable as usual, but
refused wine, beer, water, lemonade, chocolate and at last a
cigarette. Then my wife asked him, 'So you refuse to break
bread?' and he waved his hands amiably in answer. All my
three ladies received the same impression that he had serious
matters in his mind: now we hear he is quite cock-a-hoop
since the mail came, and going about as before his troubles
darkened. But what did he want with me? 'Tis thought he had