This kind of thing might be kept up a Lapland night. “Let us bury the great joke”—Shade of Tennyson, forgive!
I am glad to say, you can scarce receive the second bill for the house until next mail, which gives more room to turn round in. Yes, my rate of expenditure is hellish. It is funny, it crept up and up; and when we sat upon one vent another exploded. Lloyd and I grew grey over the monthly returns; but every damned month, there is a new extra. However, we always hope the next will prove less recalcitrant; in which faith we advance trembling.
The desiderated advertisement, I think I have told you, was mighty near supplied: that is, if deportation would suit your view: the ship was actually sought to be hired. Yes, it would have been an advertisement, and rather a lark, and yet a blooming nuisance. For my part, I shall try to do without.
No one has thought fit to send me Atalanta[55]; and I have no proof at all of D. Balfour, which is far more serious. How about the D. B. map? As soon as there is a proof it were well I should see it to accord the text thereto—or t’other way about if needs must. Remember I had to go much on memory in writing that work. Did you observe the dedication? and how did you like it? If it don’t suit you, I am to try my hand again.—Yours ever,
R. L. S.
[32] Editors and publishers (since those days we have been déniaisés with a vengeance) had actually been inclined to shy at the terms of the fraudulent marriage contract, which is the pivot of the whole story; see below, p. 187.
[33] For a lively account of this plantation and its history, see Lord Pembroke’s South Sea Bubbles, chap. i.
[34] The native wife of a carpenter in Apia.