British Legation
Adis Ababa.
16 July, 1914.
My dear Gertrude.

The mail is not in – but in the interval of listening to an Indian who in the time of Menelik was given the tasus of an estate & has now quarrelled with so & so – wants to go somewhere – is afraid he’ll lose his tasus – so forth interminably – I take pen to fly to you – I have nothing to say or rather I probably have very much – but I can’t write it today, - for some reason or other my eyes are bad - & even my lately acquired goggles won’t let me read or write in peace as aforetime – It will probably pass off quietly. What shall we talk about? In the field spoiling my day is an American scientist measuring terrestrial magnetism for Carnegie – I’ve just told him to wire for a million or so & build an observatory. I’m American Consul General & think it useful to science & honourable to Chichago [sic]! And then there’s poor old Miles Backhouse whom you know, who has got into a tangle of Italian swindlers over a gold concession – I’ve been putting out my eyes trying to read his crabbed papers - & in a few minutes he’s to come & talk it over – But I don’t see how I can help him much – I hope you can read all this – I can’t myself – But don’t put your eyes out over it – its only to say that I am wondering how you are, my dear - & wanting to see you – so very much –

But God is great - & we will meet – just edges & corners & elbows in a crowd – but still meet & talk - & I read your so very brief letter in the times – iterinary [sic] & nothing else – How does the book go? Have you begun? are you well enough? My dear, I can’t tell you how pleased I am to think the mail will be today or tomorrow & I shall know how you are – I shall find eyes enough to send you letters somehow. I’ve only been bad for a little time & can still work & read type more or less –

Yesterday would you have come with me? I went to visit the Abuna, the Archbishop, an old friend a patriarchal cunning old Copt – and “it is true” he said “very good” – “and quite so” – & “the English are like a sword” – (the blade he meant) while I drank scented coffee & talked of building a church in Gallabal - & of crowing Yasu – etc etc - & then old to another old friend Fit Hapta Giorgis Minister of War – who is ill - & talked with him of politics & frontiers for an hour’s tremendous thunderstorm – a dear old Galla whom your soul would love – once a prisoner of war & a slave, for so they are – then by courage & skill to C.in C. of Menelik’s army, Res of the Rases, War Minister, Prime Minister – K. C. M. G. We are great personal friends, but Thesiger quarrelled with him over the frontier.

And the Treaty hangs fire – I can’t see the Prince who is ill – but I’ve spread my net to the Foreign Minister to prepare my way before me. Oh yes you would take an interest – I know you would –

& the 100 guns of Schwimmer, the new Austrian Consul – they can’t be moved because they weigh over 3 tons each – dating from 1861, siege of Verona - £40,000 for such old iron – But Schwimmer has a pretty & complaisant lady or two, whom he calls his wife & her maid – a disgraceful story – How Austria of all countries in the world can let such a thing go on, I can’t imagine.

My fool of a scientist can’t tell me much of wireless telegraphy - & I want to know so much – mountains, latitude, atmosphere, will it do? what will be its practical range and at what cost? etc etc – for why seeing the future & the uncertainty of the world should all communication be in the hands of Italy – I am building up a nationalism – but no, not so, it grew without me – I am only planting morning glories round it.

I ought to go & use my German colleague – he’s ill – perhaps I will if the mail is late – but I won’t miss your letter for him – He plays chess, so I haven’t to talk which is good, for he’s very dull – good & well meaning – and hates us all in a truly refreshing spirit –

It rains to my joy – Every shower here, every giant thunderstorm, every raging tearing torrent of brown water – all to the lake, my pet lake, and the Blue Nile flood – close by here in one of my [?] shooting haunts flows an affluent of it – but when don’t they flow? all rich & red to grow cotton in the Ghezireh –

Oh! I wish you were here – you’re just a little contemptuous of African politics - & its true they are a backwater now – are not Abana & Pharphar, better than my streams? But still come & bathe [?] - & Africa would have you, until such time as the mercy of Allah sets our noses to some new grindstone – for why else was one given or none at all? But here is Miles B. & I must stop & hear his trouble –

17th

A line – two letters – and a little beloved note. But none of them can I answer – I’m just off to see the Prince about Tsana – much must one say & the right thing, & yet not too much - & yet there is one thing in your letter which is in my head to answer now – yes – it’s the same old problem propping up the unsteady & the incompetent - & you say it is not worth while – my dear, is there any immutable certainty? even for our poor old Turks, there is hope – All these people want is a ruler – a line - & the peace & assurance of God – we are only rockers of cradles, feeders of babies – will they be dwarfs or giants? None can tell – I never despair of anybody or anything – But really I don’t think whether its worth while ion the long hidden end of time – its my work and today I have to do it for the only tomorrow which I can see – We don’t want to have to rule here, & rule we should if the country is divided – We have enough already and too much – it is easier to prop than to build in granite – even if one only props long enough for the builders to [?] & square & plan – they’ve not begun yet – they’re too busy –

Now I’m off.

My eyes are better today – it was your note which helped them –

18th

It went well – but one never can tell in this country – there is to be a committee to discuss it – I have hung on to it, K. as envoy, a battery (deadly secrets) – & Lij Yasu’s own coronation – the notable & public support of England at a critical moment – it may go, but there will be the old profound suspicions & fears, and counsels of the people - & all the men with axes [?] – It is said we will flood a whole province – drown Dewbea with all its churches – take the country etc etc.

Its nearly dark, and I daren’t write any more though my eyes are certainly better – only some form of rheumatism I suppose –

Goodnight my dear Gertrude.
Dick.