To-day is cold and grey—and not a day for you to enjoy. I saw an immense crowd of pilgrims for Fuji at Gotemba, and wondered if you would go up, as this time you would have plenty of company.
Sorry I did not see dear Dr. Bedloe; but I hope to catch him upon his way back to the Far East.
How I wish you could come down some fine day here—only, I do fear that you could not stand the fleas. I must say that it requires patience and perseverance to stand them. But you can have glorious swimming. When I can get that—fleas and all other things are of no consequence.
Also I am afraid that you would not like the odours of fish below stairs, of daikon, and of other things all mixed up together. I don’t admire them;—but there is swimming—nothing else makes much difference.
You would wonder if you saw how I am quartered, and how much I like it. I like roughing it among the fisher-folk. I love them. I am afraid that you not only couldn’t stand it, but that you would be somewhat angry if you came down here—would tell me that “I ought to have known better,” etc. Nevertheless I want you to come for one day—see if you can stand it. “Play up the Boyne Wather softly till I see if I can stand it.” Ask Dr. Bedloe the result of playing the Boyne Wather softly. But I am warning you fairly and fully.
Affectionately,
Lafcadio.
P. S. I am sure that you could not stand it—perfectly sure. But then—think of the value of the experience. I had a Japanese officer here last year and he liked it.