needn't, you know, so long as you drain."

"Yes, but draining on the flat is the devil."

"Anyhow, I always liked animals--you haven't seen my pigs
yet--and horses and mules need careful tending. A cable
arrived one morning announcing an impending dissolution. I
felt like an unwilling bridegroom called to marry an ugly
bride. I invited my soul. Here, thought I to myself, are
animals and foodstuffs--good, honest food at that. If I go
back it is only to fill people's bellies with political east
wind.

"To come to the point, I decided to grow coffee and cacao. I
cabled infinite regrets. The decision once made, I was happy
as a sandboy. _J'y suis, j'y reste_, said I to myself, said
I. Nor have I ever cast one longing look behind."[8]

[8] Quoted from the _New Age_, where the _Letters of Anthony
Farley_ first appeared.

This is fiction, but I think it is true that very few, if any, who
become planters in the tropics ever return permanently to England. The
hospitality of the planters is proverbial: there must be something good
and free about the planter's life to produce men so genial and generous.
There is a picture that I often recall, and never without pleasure. A
young planter and I had, with the help of more or less willing mules,
climbed over the hills from one valley to the next. The valley we had
left is noted for its beauty, but to me it had become familiar; the
other valley I saw now for the first time. The sides were steep and
covered with trees, and I could only see one dwelling in the valley. We
reached this by a circuitous path through cacao trees. Approaching it as
we did, the bungalow seemed completely cut off from the rest of the
world. We were welcomed by the planter and his wife, and by those of the
children who were not shy. I have never seen more chubby or jolly
kiddies, and I know from the sweetness of the children that their mother
must have given them unremitting attention. I wondered indeed if she
ever left them for a moment. I knew, too, from the situation of the
bungalow in the heart of the hills that visitors were not likely to be
frequent. The planter's life is splendid for a man who likes open air
and nature, but I had sometimes thought that their wives would not find
the life so good. I was mistaken. When we came away, after riding some
distance, through a gap in the cacao we saw across the valley a group of
happy children. Th