27TH. MAIL DAY.


And I don't know that I have much to report. I may have to
leave for Malie as soon as these mail packets are made up.
'Tis a necessity (if it be one) I rather deplore. I think I
should have liked to lazy; but I daresay all it means is the
delay of a day or so in harking back to David Balfour; that
respectable youth chides at being left (where he is now) in
Glasgow with the Lord Advocate, and after five years in the
British Linen, who shall blame him? I was all forenoon
yesterday down in Apia,' dictating, and Lloyd type-writing,
the conclusion of SAMOA; and then at home correcting till the
dinner bell; and in the evening again till eleven of the
clock. This morning I have made up most of my packets, and I
think my mail is all ready but two more, and the tag of this.
I would never deny (as D. B might say) that I was rather
tired of it. But I have a damned good dose of the devil in
my pipe-stem atomy; I have had my little holiday outing in my
kick at THE YOUNG CHEVALIER, and I guess I can settle to
DAVID BALFOUR to-morrow or Friday like a little man. I
wonder if any one had ever more energy upon so little
strength? - I know there is a frost, the Samoa book can only
increase that - I can't help it, that book is not written for
me but for Miss Manners; but I mean to break that frost
inside two years, and pull off a big success, and Vanity
whispers in my ear that I have the strength. If I haven't,
whistle ower the lave o't! I can do without glory and
perhaps the time is not far off when I can do without corn.