When I examined you for ‘ill humors’ I longed to run my hands over your entire body, to touch your face, to caress you in the places that would give you pleasure. To preach a fine sermon every Sunday so that he would lose neither the art nor the impulse; and this child, in secret rebellion, taking it down in long hand during odd hours in the week! Preaching grandiloquently before a few score natives who understood little beyond the gestures, for the single purpose of warding off disintegration! It reminded the doctor of a stubborn retreat; from barricade to barricade, grimly fighting to keep the enemy at bay, that insidious enemy of the white man in the South Seas—inertia. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. "I give it to King James—not so you: for the furtherance of a great and holy cause, not for the prosecution of wild and unprofitable schemes. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved.
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