380 MY LIFE 



coming home, and as I am quite uncertain when I may be 

 able to send you this letter, I may possibly arrive not very 

 long after it. Some fine morning I expect to walk into 79, 

 Pall Mall, and shall, I suppose, find things just the same as 

 if I had walked out yesterday and come in to-morrow ! 

 There will you be seated on the same chair, at the same 

 table, surrounded by the same account books, and writing 

 upon paper of the same size and colour as when I last beheld 

 you. I shall find your inkstand, pens, and pencils in the same 

 places, and in the same beautiful order, which my idiosyncrasy 

 compels me to admire, but forbids me to imitate. (Could 

 you see the table at which I am now writing, your hair would 

 stand on end at the reckless confusion it exhibits!) I 

 suppose you have now added a few more secretaryships to 

 your former multifarious duties. I suppose that you will 

 walk every morning from Kensington and back in the 

 evening, and that things at the archdeacon's go on precisely 

 and identically as they did eight years ago. 1 I feel almost 

 inclined to parody the words of Cicero, and to ask indignantly, 

 'How long, O Georgius, will you thus abuse our patience? 

 How long will this sublime indifference last?' But I fear 

 the stern despot, habit, has too strongly riveted your chains, 

 and as, after many years of torture the Indian fanatic can 

 at last sleep only on his bed of spikes, so perhaps now you 

 would hardly care to change that daily routine, even if the 

 opportunity were thrust upon you. Excuse me, my dear 

 George, if I express myself too strongly on this subject, which 

 is truly no business of mine, but I cannot see, without regret, 

 my earliest friend devote himself so entirely, mind and body, 

 to the service of others. 



" I am here in one of the places unknown to the Royal 

 Geographical Society, situated in the very centre of East 

 Sumatra, about one hundred miles from the sea in three 

 directions. It is the height of the wet season, and the rain 

 pours down strong and steady, generally all night and half 

 the day. Bad times for me, but I walk out regularly three or 



1 Mr. Silk was private secretary and reader to the then Archdeacon 

 Sinclair, Vicar of Kensington. 



