28th—The following is my letter to Mr. Oscar:
“Oscar San! Ellis San!
“I never liked your profession, simply because it is too beautiful.
“I don’t see why you cannot transfer to some other business.
“I have been ever so much fascinated with odd sorts of manual work. If I were a gentleman, I would very likely pursue the calling of grave-digger or sea-diver.
“Yesterday I passed by some labourers breaking massive stones. They lifted their hammers (O Oscar, look at their muscles!) and knocked them down to the sound of ‘Sara bagun!’ They jerked the ‘sara bagun,’ Oscar. Does it mean ‘ready?’ Mrs. Willis’ Century dictionary must be imperfect, since it does not contain such a word. Am I mis-spelling?
“Suppose I marry one of those!
“He will return home awfully tired. He will naturally doze after dinner. When his smoking pipe has slipped from his lips and burned my best tablecloth, isn’t it possible that I will be mad?... I startled him, pulling his hair ever so hard. Now you must think that he grew mad also. He seized my arm, and beat me. O Oscar, he beat me surely!... Then he will repent his conduct, and kneel by my side, begging my forgiveness. He will say, ‘My dear sweet wife—’
“Do you know how interesting it is to be beaten by a husband?
“I well-nigh fixed my mind never to affiance with a man too genteel to hit me.