Vailima Letters | Page 9

to warn you till we have the whole (or much) of the stuff together,
you can hardly judge - and I can hardly judge. Such a mass of stuff is to
be handled, if possible without repetition - so much foreign matter to be
introduced - if possible with perspicuity - and, as much as can be, a
spirit of narrative to be preserved. You will find that come stronger as I
proceed, and get the explanations worked through. Problems of style
are (as yet) dirt under my feet; my problem is architectural, creative - to
get this stuff jointed and moving. If I can do that, I will trouble you for
style; anybody might write it, and it would be splendid;
well-engineered, the masses right, the blooming thing travelling - twig?
This I wanted you to understand, for lots of the stuff sent home is, I
imagine, rot - and slovenly rot - and some of it pompous rot; and I want
you to understand it's a LAY-IN.
Soon, if the tide of poeshie continues, I'll send you a whole lot to damn.
You never said thank-you for the handsome tribute addressed to you
from Apemama; such is the gratitude of the world to the God-sent
poick. Well, well:- 'Vex not thou the poick's mind, With thy coriaceous
ingratitude, The P. will be to your faults more than a little blind, And
yours is a far from handsome attitude.' Having thus dropped into poetry
in a spirit of friendship, I have the honour to subscribe myself, Sir,
Your obedient humble servant, SILAS WEGG.
I suppose by this you will have seen the lad - and his feet will have
been in the Monument - and his eyes beheld the face of George. Well!
There is much eloquence in a well! I am, Sir Yours
The Epigrammatist

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
FINIS - EXPLICIT

CHAPTER II

VAILIMA, TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25TH, 1890.
MY DEAR COLVIN, - I wanted to go out bright and early to go on
with my survey. You never heard of that. The world has turned, and
much water run under bridges, since I stopped my diary. I have written
six more chapters of the book, all good I potently believe, and given up,
as a deception of the devil's, the High Woods. I have been once down
to Apia, to a huge native feast at Seumanutafa's, the chief of Apia.
There was a vast mass of food, crowds of people, the police charging
among them with whips, the whole in high good humour on both sides;
infinite noise; and a historic event - Mr. Clarke, the missionary, and his
wife, assisted at a native dance. On my return from this function, I
found work had stopped; no more South Seas in my belly. Well, Henry
had cleared a great deal of our bush on a contract, and it ought to be
measured. I set myself to the task with a tape-line; it seemed a dreary
business; then I borrowed a prismatic compass, and tackled the task
afresh. I have no books; I had not touched an instrument nor given a
thought to the business since the year of grace 1871; you can imagine
with what interest I sat down yesterday afternoon to reduce my
observations; five triangles I had taken; all five came right, to my
ineffable joy. Our dinner - the lowest we have ever been - consisted of
ONE AVOCADO PEAR between Fanny and me, a ship's biscuit for
the guidman, white bread for the Missis, and red wine for the twa. No
salt horse, even, in all Vailima! After dinner Henry came, and I began
to teach him decimals; you wouldn't think I knew them myself after so
long desuetude!
I could not but wonder how Henry stands his evenings here; the
Polynesian loves gaiety - I feed him with decimals, the mariner's
compass, derivations, grammar, and the like; delecting myself, after the
manner of my race, MOULT TRISTEMENT. I suck my paws; I live
for my dexterities and by my accomplishments; even my clumsinesses

are my joy - my woodcuts, my stumbling on the pipe, this surveying
even - and even weeding sensitive; anything to do with the mind, with
the eye, with the hand - with a part of ME; diversion flows in these
ways for the dreary man. But gaiety is what these children want; to sit
in a crowd, tell stories and pass jests, to hear one another laugh and
scamper with the girls. It's good fun, too, I believe, but not for R. L. S.,
AETAT. 40. Which I am now past forty, Custodian, and not one penny
the worse that I can see; as amusable as ever; to be on board ship is
reward enough for me; give me