“Most cordial thanks to you for your greetings--and the best of good wishes to you and yours for the New Year. On Christmas day I did not fail to remember our cheery banquet under your roof a year ago, and I drank your health and Mrs. Pond’s--hoping you were drinking mine out of a certain mug! [A loving cup which Mr. H. presented me, and which I found on my desk after he had sailed, inscribed, “Here’s Your Good Health, Major.”] I hope all goes well with you in health. For success, your letter seems to tell of a good season--you’ll have made more than I could make for you--though upon my word I don’t believe that would prevent you from having me over again. I am glad to hear that Caine and Zangwill both did so well--they are both very interesting people, so it’s small wonder. I have been rather ill this ‘fall’ (you see I don’t forget the language).... That little play I brought over to New York in my portmanteau has come to the rescue and I come out at the right end. It’s capital news that you hope to come over in the summer. I am sure to be here, I think, and we’ll fight our battles over again. We are all Americans here now--a development of feeling that gives me the heartiest pleasure. But whether the nations go on loving one another or not, your welcome here is safe whenever you come. “Kindest remembrances to Mrs. Pond and your son--and I am, my dear Major, with friendliest thoughts, “Ever yours, “ANTHONY H. HAWKINS.” * * * * * “26th July, ’99, “16 BUCKINGHAM STREET, STRAND, W.C. “MY DEAR MAJOR: “I am the basest of men in that I never answered your very pleasant letter. The only excuse is that I have been _buried_ in a new story and came up to the surface only yesterday! Moreover--yes, here’s another--I’ve a vivid recollection that you were coming over this summer and have hoped to hear your knock on my door. You haven’t come--and I suppose won’t now? “For me? Well, I was nearly tempted over to New York--just for fun--but prudence stepped in and I stuck to work. That’s done, and I’ve a series of little holidays before me, broken by the task of rehearsing a play in the end of August. I am well, but tired--amiable but irritable (as you may remember!)--and shall be very much better for a month of the country. Except geographically, I _have_ been living in America--so many pleasant friends from your side of the water have been here and so much dissipation have they led me into. People keep turning up whom we met on our journeyings together. They asked me if _you_ worked _me_ very hard, and I have to confess that I gave you a much worse time than you succeeded in inflicting on me.