第44部分(第3/7 頁)

piqued　by　the　frequent　descriptions　of　myself　as　“a　mere　writer　of　romances　and　boys’　books；”　I　determined　to　try　my　hand　at　another　novel　（if　one　es　to　think　of　it　“Dawn”　and　“The　Witch’s　Head”　were　novels；　but　these　had　been　obliterated　by　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”）。　So　after　I　had　finished　“Allan　Quatermain”　I　set　to　as　I　have　already　described；　and　wrote　“Jess。”

It　is　a　gloomy　story　and　painful　to　an　Englishman；　so　gloomy　and　painful　that　Lang　could　scarcely　read　it；　having　a　nature　susceptible　as　a　sensitive　plant。　I　feel　this　myself；　for　except　when　I　went　through　it　some　fifteen　years　ago　to　correct　it　for　a　new　illustrated　edition；　I　too　have　never　reread　it；　and　I　think　that　I　never　mean　to　do　so。　The　thing　is　a　living　record　of　our　shame　in　South　Africa；　written　by　one　by　whom　it　was　endured。　And　therefore　it　lives；　for　it　is　a　bit　of　history　put　into　tangible　and　human　shape。　At　any　rate；　the　other　day　the　publishers　kindly　sent　me　a　copy　of　the　twenty…seventh　edition　of　the　work；　which　of　course　has　been　circulated　in　countless　numbers　in　a　cheap　form。　I　believe　that　in　South　Africa　they　think　highly　of　“Jess”；　even　the　Boers　of　the　new　generation　read　it。　I　remember　that　when　some　of　their　trenches　were　stormed　in　the　last　war；　the　special　correspondents　reported　that　the　only　book　found　in　them　was　“Jess。”

I　returned　to　England　by　long　sea；　avoiding　the　train　journey　across　Europe。　This　I　undertook　when　I　went　out　in　order　to　study　the　Egyptian　collections　at　the　Louvre　and　Turin。　As　it　happened　I　never　saw　that　at　Turin。　When　I　arrived　there；　purposing　to　spend　an　afternoon　at　the　museum；　my　cabman　drove　me　to　a　distant　circus；　and　when　at　length　I　did　reach　the　said　museum；　it　was　to　find　that　on　this　particular　day　it　was　closed。

On　my