face to face with our ancient barbaric life and government,
down to yesterday, to 1750 anyway. But the TALES OF A
GRANDFATHER stand in my way; I am teaching them to Austin
now, and they have all Scott's defects and all Scott's
hopeless merit. I cannot compete with that; and yet, so far
as regards teaching History, how he has missed his chances!
I think I'll try; I really have some historic sense, I feel
that in my bones. Then there's another thing. 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.
Gad, I think I'll have a flutter. Buridan's Ass! Whether to
go, what to attack. Must go to other letters; shall add to
this, if I have time.



CHAPTER XIII



NOV. 25TH, 1891.


MY DEAR COLVIN, MY DEAR COLVIN, - I wonder how often I'm
going to write it. 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