I read the books you sent me—Mallock only because you wished me to read it. I suppose it is the very best thing he ever did. How immensely clever and keen and—immoral! It is a wonderful thing.
“The Wood beyond the World” astounded me. Its value is in the study of the quaint English; but you know that such a thing could not be written in modern English prose very well; and I must say that I feel like disputing the raison d’être thereof. It is simply a very naughty story.
Kipling is priceless,—the single story of Purim Bagat is worth a kingdom; and the suggestive moral of human life is such a miracle! I can’t tell you what pleasure it gave me. Indeed the three books—as representing three totally distinct fields of literary work—were a great treat.
My boy is quite well again, though we were very frightened about him. He suffers from the cold every winter (you know the Japanese never have fire in winter), but he is getting hardier, I trust. He is very fond of pictures and says funny things about the pictures in the “Jungle Book.” I am off to the Southern Islands shortly,—so you may not hear from me for some weeks.
Ever affectionately,
Lafcadio Hearn.
TO ELLWOOD HENDRICK
Kōbe, January, 1895.
Since I wrote you last, you dear old fellow, I’ve been through some trouble. Indeed, the very day after writing you, I broke down, and had to remain three weeks with compresses over my eyes in a dark room. I am now over it—able to write and read for a short time every day, but have been warned to leave routine newspaper work alone. Which I must do.