with you.  I feel myself eternally shamed not to be able to dominate the evils that afflict colonial mankind.  Please send me the trifle that you offered me.  Send me this proof of your appreciation by the bearer, who is to be trusted.  Also give to him a small sum of money for himself, and earn the undying gratitude of

   “Your most faithful servant,

   “CAPTAIN ERNESTO BECUCCI.”

Also, inclosed in the foregoing letter was the following original poem, a propos neither of leopard skins nor tangible returns, so far as I can make out: 

   EFFUSION

   Thou canst not weep;
   Nor ask I for a year
   To rid me of my woes
   Or make my life more dear.

   The mystic chains that bound
   Thy all-fond heart to mine,
   Alas! asundered are
   For now and for all time.

   In vain you strove to hide,
   From vulgar gaze of man,
   The burning glance of love
   That none but Love can scan.

   Go on thy starlit way
   And leave me to my fate;
   Our souls must needs unite—­
   But, God! ’twill be too late.

To all and sundry of which I replied: 

   “MY DEAR CAPTAIN BECUCCI: 

“I regret exceedingly to hear that by act of God, at half past three this afternoon, you lost the key to your cubicle.  Please have the boy bring the skins at seven o’clock to-morrow morning, at which time, when he brings the skins, I shall be glad to make you that tangible return for your ‘Tranquil Hour Waltz.’

   “Sincerely yours,

   “JACK LONDON.”

At seven o’clock came no skins, but the following: 

   “SIR: 

“After offering you my most sincere respects, I beg to continue by telling you that no one, up to the time of writing, has treated me with such lack of attention.  It was a present to gentlemen who were to retain the piece of music, and who have all, without exception, made me a present of five dollars.  It is beyond my humble capacity to believe that you, after having offered to send me money in an envelope, should fail to do so.

   “Send me, I pray of you, the money to remunerate the small boy for his
   repeated visits to you.  Please be discreet and send it in an envelope
   by the bearer.

“Last night I came to the hotel with the boy.  You were dining.  I waited more than an hour for you and then went to the theatre.  Give the boy some small amount, and send me a like offering of larger proportions.

   “Awaiting incessantly a slight attention on your part,

   “CAPTAIN ERNESTO BECUCCI.”

And here, like one of George Moore’s realistic studies, ends this intercourse with Captain Ernesto Becucci.  Nothing happened.  Nothing ever came to anything.  He got no tangible return, and I got no leopard skins.  The tangible return he might have got, I presented to Eliceo, who promptly invested it in a pair of trousers and a ticket to the bull-fight.