IX. THE FAITH OF COMRADES
X. "THOU KNOWEST THE SECRETS OF OUR HEARTS"
XI. UPON THE HIGHWAY
XII. "THE CHASE OF THE YELLOW SWAN"
XIII. A LIVING POEM
XIV. ON THE EDGE OF A FUTURE
XV. THE END OF THE TRAIL




INTRODUCTION

The Translation of a Savage was written in the early autumn of 1893, at
Hampstead Heath, where for over twenty years I have gone, now and then,
when I wished to be in an atmosphere conducive to composition. Hampstead
is one of the parts of London which has as yet been scarcely invaded by
the lodging-house keeper. It is very difficult to get apartments at
Hampstead; it is essentially a residential place; and, like Chelsea, has
literary and artistic character all its own. I think I have seen more
people carrying books in their hands at Hampstead than in any other spot
in England; and there it was, perched above London, with eyes looking
towards the Atlantic over the leagues of land and the thousand leagues of
sea, that I wrote 'The Translation of a Savage'. It was written, as it
were, in one concentrated effort, a ceaseless writing. It was, in
effect, what the Daily Chronicle said of 'When Valmond Came to Pontiac',
a tour de force. It belonged to a genre which compelled me to dispose of
a thing in one continuous effort, or the impulse, impetus, and fulness of
movement was gone. The writing of a book of the kind admitted of no
invasion from extraneous sources, and that was why, while writing 'The