I turn my
eyes to the west often with a queer sort of amazed pride. If I were a
foreigner--of any race but French--I 'd work my passage out there in an
emigrant ship. As it is, I did forty-five years of hard labor there,
and I consider that I earned the freedom to die where I please.
I can see in "my mind's eye" the glitter in yours as you wrote--and
underscored--I'll wager you spend half your days in writing letters back
to the land you have willfully deserted. As well have stayed among us
and talked--and you talk so much better than you write. "Tut! tut! That
is nasty." Of course I do not deny that I shall miss the inspiration of
your contradictions--or do you call it repartee? I scorn your arguments,
and I hereby swear that you shall not worry another remonstrance from
me.
You ask me how it happens that I wandered in this direction, into a part
of the country about which you do not remember to have ever heard me
talk, when there were so many places that would have seemed to you to be
more interesting. Well, this is more interesting than you think. You
must not fancy that a place is not interesting because you can't find it
in Hare, and because Henry James never talked about it.
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