Henry ought to go to the country and not see a book for a year, and it may have been a result of this illness that he was sent to Hilo, whence his first letter was written.
HELEN CASTLE MEAD.
PARIS, FRANCE,
January 15, 1902.
NOTE
THE following letters have been subjected to no editing beyond the sacrifice of some passages, which reflected rather the personality of others than Henry’s own. As they are intended only for the eyes of his own intimate circle, we have felt that there was no revelation of himself which was too intimate for these readers. There has been no thought of a literary whole; on the contrary, the trifles, catch-words, and repetitions of familiar correspondence have been retained, to be filled in by the memories of those to whom he wrote. It has not been our task to construct Henry out of his letters, but simply to present materials from which the readers of these pages will mentally reproduce the personality with which they were familiar. We have presumed upon the confidence reposed in us as collators of this correspondence only in the two added chapters of recollections; and the only excuse we offer for them is, that they sprang almost without premeditation, and quite inevitably, from the months spent with Henry by the medium of his letters.
“For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Who would not sing for Lycidas? He knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
Without the meed of some melodious tear.”
“Alas, that Spring should vanish with the rose!
That youth’s sweet-scented manuscript should close!
The nightingale that in the branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows I”
—OMAR KHAYYAM.
HILO, June 25, ’76.
DEAR MOTHER,
I want to see you very much. I intend to enjoy myself up here, though I am afraid I am going to be homesick. I am afraid my knee is not getting any better. I think it is about the same as it was when I left Honolulu. Please send the clothes up as soon as possible, for I will need them, I think. I wish Father could have stayed up here and enjoyed himself. Did he have a comfortable passage down? I was real glad Father went up with me; he was a great comfort to me. How are all the folks at home? Give them all my love, including everybody in the three houses. Give Eloise and Ethelwyn each a kiss from me, and tell them I will write to them if I have time. Since we left Honolulu, I have lost one pound and Reky has lost four. Edward says we have run it off, and we have been doing something all the time. Yesterday we went to bathe in the Wailuku, and Edward went with us. That was in the afternoon. In the morning over to Cocoanut Island, on horseback. Nobody can take cocoanuts without Governor Kipi’s permission, so we asked him, and he said we might have as many as we pleased; but when we got there, the man would not believe Kipi said we might, and would not get us any, which was very provoking, indeed; so we came home.
In a little while it will be time to go to church, so I guess I will adjourn writing for the present, and brush my hair. I have got a piece of news that will rejoice Helen’s heart. It is that up here I brush my hair three times a day, and on Sunday I brush it four times. Now will not Helen rejoice? I go down to Mrs Sisson’s every day and practice. Tell Ellie that. I wish I had the Home Circle up here to practice in, besides my Richardson’s. The whole of Uncle Dave’s family are going away to-morrow, and we have their cows and peaches and everything else. Last night we went up to Uncle Dave’s to play, but Reky stuck a nail into his foot, and had to go home. We went over to Uncle Reky’s and played on the drums and other instruments, and had a jolly time playing band. After that Howard and I went to boxing, while the girls sat on the steps and watched us. I had a jolly time. When we got up to Uncle Dave’s we went with Howard down to Mr Reed’s, to shoot a cat, and it was there Reky stuck a nail in his foot. After Howard had shot the cat we went back to Uncle Dave’s, when Edward told Reky to go home and get a piece of pork on his foot. I wash my feet every night before I go to bed, and I eat a great deal. We are going to go up to Uncle Dave’s pasture and milk the cows every morning. I do not eat half as much bread-stuff up here as at Honolulu. I hardly ever eat bread except at lunch, and then I generally make half my lunch on rice. We are going to keep quiet this week.
From your Affectionate Son,
HENRY.
June 28, ’76.
DEAR HELEN,
I have barely time to answer yours. I am having a jolly time up here, despite the fact that I am absent from you. I eat lots up here. I am very sorry that I cannot be in Honolulu to see the fun. How I wish I could see the big sights that are going to be seen on the Fourth. I have been out to Papaikou once since I have been here. I expected to have had a miserable time going out and coming in, but instead of that I enjoyed the ride, both in and out. It looks a little familiar, but not much. We have had very little milk, and I have hardly tasted it since I have been up here, but David Hitchcock and all are going to Kona in the steamer this week, and so we will have their cows; so we will have plenty of milk. I have had four or five water-lemons since I have been up here. Ellie has been sick. She is not quite well yet.
Yours truly,
HENRY.
P’S.—Your school has a vacation now, has it not? Goodbye.
CLEVELAND, O., March 10, ’78.
DEAR FOLKS AT HOME,
We mail the letters to-morrow for Honolulu, and I must send a little, just to let you know that I am alive and kicking. Jamie decided to go up to Cleveland, and I thought I should like to go with him, so here I am at Henry’s. Will and I slept on the floor last night, and got along very well indeed. I study Grecian history next term, and am trying to make it up this vacation, as it will save me so much time next term. I think I shall succeed in doing so. The book has 240 pages. I have now read about 230. School begins next Tuesday at 12 o’clock, so I will have two more days to review in. Jamie and Cousin Henry have gone to church, like good boys, while Will and I stay at home; but Will and I are aiming at long life. They have a great deal of respect for Sunday here. Our ears are saluted by the sound of a little girl skipping rope in the hall, while we have but to turn toward the window to see a parcel of boys engaged in a game of base-ball. So you see these games are able to tempt folks to do evil, as well as some others which are looked upon as very wicked. So we see the wrongfulness of a game consists in the use made of it, not in the game itself. Therefore one game, however much it may be the custom to make a wrong use of it, is as lawful as another, provided the right use is made of it. Therefore cards is as lawful as base-ball. What nonsense I am writing! I expect you will learn a great deal and get a great many new ideas from this homily.
Will and I took a long walk this morning before breakfast. We went out to the park, and then went way down to the end of some long piers, at the ends of which were two lighthouses. Jamie and I got breakfast at a restaurant, but Will and the other Henry, my illustrious namesake, are boarding themselves.
I have had a very good time this vacation, and am sorry it is coming to an end. It hardly has time to get fairly commenced before it ends. But such is life: ‘Tis but a vapor that vanisheth away, etc. Jamie and Henry have come home. Those boys that were playing ball are now varying their amusement by pegging a top, and their loud voices come up here through my window, dispelling the Sabbath stillness, it ought to be, but there is not much stillness to dispel around here just now. The boys are eating oranges now, and I suppose I ought to help them. We get oranges very cheap at Oberlin now, at about thirty cents a dozen, and I think they are pretty