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. My native overseer, the great Henry Simele,
announced to-day that he was 'weary of whites upon the beach.
All too proud,' said this veracious witness. One of the
proud ones had threatened yesterday to cut off his head with
a bush knife! These are 'native outrages'; honour bright,
and setting theft aside, in which the natives are active,
this is the main stream of irritation. 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. Bar wars.
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.