d Sheil。 When I returned from Africa I found that he had bee a Trappist monk。 We corresponded and I went to see him。 （He too is long dead。） In one of his letters I find this sentence written over thirty years ago： “What I wish is that we may all go home together and be together always。”
This exactly expresses my sentiments towards the few for whom I care — dead or living。
Ever your friend；
H。 Rider Haggard。
October 20； 1911。
Dear Rider； — I expect we shall meet our dogs and cats。 They have ghosts！ I don’t much bar fox…hunting： it needs pluck； and the fox； a sportsman himself； only takes his chances and often gets away。 It’s all a matter of thinking。 Scott was a humane man； but devoted to coursing； which I abominate。 Wordsworth never thought of harm in trout…fishing； with fly。 Now I was born to be ruthful to trout； as a kid； and sinned against light； but I could not use the worm。
Why on earth do you keep letters？ I have a very few sealed up； but dare not look on them 。 。 。 。
A little later； either at Charles Longman’s suggestion or with his approval； it occurred to me to try to cheer Lang up and take him out of himself a little by getting him to collaborate； or at any rate to think over collaboration； in another romance。 To this end I wrote to him as follows：
November 10； 1911。
My dear Andrew； — I have e across a scheme we had （about a quarter of a century ago） for collaboration in a novel of Old Kor。
I think it has been in bottle long enough and should be decanted。
What say you？ Have you any ideas？ I see stuff in it； but could not really tackle it just at present。 It would be rather jolly to do another job with you； old fellow。
After all “The World’s Desire；” about which you were rather