Lafcadio.
TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, January, 1898.
Dear McDonald,—After all, instinct isn’t a bad thing. Your just-received excellent advice is precisely what my “blind instinct”—as scientific men call it—told me. No: I shall do nothing without consulting you.
Well, I imagine that not next Friday, but the Friday after will be most convenient to you. I’ll try the later date, therefore. (Friday need not be a Black Friday in Japan—I used to hate to do anything on that day—landed in Japan on Good Friday (!) but now I belong to the Oriental gods.)
Wonder if you know that the Revue des Deux Mondes has sent a poet here to write up Japan—M. André Bellesort. He is a man of big literary calibre, and has a rare wife—who speaks Persian. About as charming a Frenchwoman as one could wish to know. She speaks English, Italian, and Spanish besides. Trying to get them interested in Amenomori. They are at the Hotel Metropole,—perhaps on account of the Legation.
Faithfully and affectionately yours,
Lafcadio Hearn.