Reaching home, I used some of that absolutely wonderful medicine. It was a great and grateful surprise. (I am not trying to say much about the kindness of the gift—that would be no use.) After having used it, for the first time, I made a tactile investigation without fear, and found—
What do you think?
Guess!
Well, I found that—the wrong one had been pulled,—No. 3 instead of No. 2.
I don’t say that No. 3 didn’t deserve its fate. But it had never been openly aggressive. It had struggled to perform its duties under disadvantageous circumstances: its character had been modest and shrinking. No. 2 had been, on the contrary, Mt. Vesuvius, the last great Javanese earthquake, the tidal wave of ’96, and the seventh chamber of the Inferno, all in mathematical combination. It—Mt. Vesuvius, etc.—is still with me, and although to-day astonished into quiescence, is far from being extinct. The medicine keeps it still for the time. You will see that I have been destined to experience strange adventures.
Hope I may be able to see you again soon,—4th, if possible. Love to you and all kind wishes to everybody.
Lafcadio.
TO MITCHELL McDONALD
Tōkyō, July, 1898.
Dear McDonald,—I mailed you this morning the raw proofs, and the Revue des Deux Mondes. I fear you will find the former rather faulty in their present unfinished state. But if you mount Fuji you will be a glorious critic.