TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, March, 1898.
Dear McDonald,—Sunshine, warmth, and beauty in the world to-day; and sunshine and warmth of another sort in my heart—beautiful ghostly summer made by words and thoughts in Yokohama. “When the earth is still by reason of the South wind”—that is my mental world.
I am sending the photo of our friend, which reminds me that I was reproached very justly on reaching home last night. “But you did not bring your American friend’s picture?... Forgot to put it into the valise?... Oh! but you are queer—always, always dreaming! And don’t you feel just a little bit ashamed?” I do feel ashamed, but more than a little bit.
Also I send you a little volume containing “The House and the Brain”—published in other editions under the title “The Haunted and the Haunters.” (Usually it is bound up with that tremendous story about the Elixir of Life,—the “Strange Story” of Bulwer Lytton.) Professor Saintsbury calls this the best ghost-story ever written. But you ought to read it at night only—after the hotel becomes silent.
By way of precaution I must make a confession. I shall not be able to eat again until about Tuesday noon, I think. The tiffins, dinners, “irresistibles,” and above all that Blue Soul, were too much for me. I am getting old, sure enough,—and when I go down again to Yokohama I must live in the most ascetic manner. I feel constitutionally demoralized by all that luxurious living. Still, I must say that I suspect the sudden change of the weather is partly responsible for the feeling.
Now, really—don’t you feel tired of all this talk? Of course I know—but the conditions are so much like those of old college friendships that they seem more of dreams than of reality.
Ever affectionately,
Lafcadio.