TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, March, 1898.
Dear McDonald,—I did not think much of the title of Morrow’s book; but your judgement of the stories interested me, and the selfsame evening I began the volume—in bed. I read three quarters at a run, and the rest early in the morning. They are queer and sometimes powerful little stories—not less interesting because they are, most of them, improbable. They have the charm of the now old-fashioned stories of 1850-70,—perhaps not finished to the same extent as the Atlantic stories used to be; but they make me think of them a little. (The literary centres clamour for realism to-day; but I fancy that the taste for the romantic will live a good while longer.) Then again there is a little of the old-time gold light of California days here—that will always have a charm for readers. I wonder if Morrow is a young man: if he is, I should believe him likely to do still better in the future. If he writes for money, he need not do much finer work; but if just for love of the thing, I should say that he could finish his work better than he does,—as in the study of the emotions of the man who finds his wife untrue to him, and solves a moral problem after quite an ideal fashion. The subject was splendid: it might have been made more of.—But not to criticize things—especially things which I could not do myself—I must say that I enjoyed the tales, and that they ought to have a very good sale.
Somehow your own story—the “Highbinder story”—kept riding on the back of that gold dragon all the while I was reading. The real dominated the romantic, and yet betimes made the romantic seem possible. I could feel everything to be just as it was—my experience as a police-reporter gave verisimilitude to the least detail. You are after all a knight-errant in soul,—a real knight, tilting, not against shadows and windmills, but against the dragons of corrupted law and the giants of fraud who haunt the nineteenth century. You are a survival, I fear—there are few like you: you ride alone: all the more reason that you should take every care of yourself—care of your health; I fear you are not exercising enough, keeping too confined. If you are really, as I believe, fond of your little friend, don’t forget his prayer that you make health your No. 1 consideration.
Hope to be down Friday about 2 P. M. or 2.30 at latest.
Affectionately,
Lafcadio.