dge; Rome perished. The
sensitive plant has indigestible seeds--so they say--and it will
flourish for ever. I give my advice thus to a young plant--have a strong
root, a weak stem, and an indigestible seed; so you will outlast the
eternal city, and your progeny will clothe mountains, and the irascible
planter will blaspheme in vain. The weak point of tuitui is that its
stem is strong.

_Supplementary Page._--Here beginneth the third lesson, which is not
from the planter but from a less estimable character, the writer of
books.

I want you to understand about this South Sea Book. The job is immense;
I stagger under material. I have seen the first big _tache_. It was
necessary to see the smaller ones; the letters were at my hand for the
purpose, but I was not going to lose this experience; and, instead of
writing mere letters, have poured out a lot of stuff for the book. How
this works and fits, time is to show. But I believe, in time, I shall
get the whole thing in form. Now, up to date, that is all my design, and
I beg to warn you till we have the whole (or much) of the stuff
together, you can hardly judge--and I can hardly judge. Such a mass of
stuff is to be handled, if possible without repetition--so much foreign
matter to be introduced--if possible with perspicuity--and, as much as
can be, a spirit of narrative to be preserved. You will find that come
stronger as I proceed, and get the explanations worked through. Problems
of style are (as yet) dirt under my feet; my problem is architectural,
creative--to get this stuff jointed and moving. If I can do that, I will
trouble you for style; anybody might write it, and it would be splendid;
well-engineered, the masses right, the blooming thing travelling--twig?

This I wanted you to understand, for lots of the stuff sent home is, I
imagine, rot--and slovenly rot--and some of it pompous rot; and I want
you to understand it's a _lay-in_.

Soon, if the tide of poeshie continues, I'll send you a whole lot to
damn. You never said thank you for the handsome tribute addressed to
you from Apemama;[6] such is the gratitude of the world to the God-sent
poick. Well, well:--"Vex not thou the poick's mind, With thy coriaceous
ingratitude, The P. will be to your faults more than a little blind, And
yours is a far from handsome attitude." Having thus dropped into poetry
in a spirit of friendship, I have the honour to subscribe myself, Sir,
your obedient humble servant,

SILAS