“_H.M.S. ‘Pathshire.’ “China Station, “At Wei-hai-wei_. “_DEAR MOTHER_,--” (Then he paused. Usually he wrote “Darling Mother,” but after consideration he decided not to change what he had written.) “_I have just had your letter telling me of your work, and your holiday, and your talks with Mr. Alter. It was such a plain, interesting letter full of news that I hate myself for writing any other kind_.” (That was a poor sentence--but let it stand.) “_But I don’t honestly think it would be fair either to you or to myself to postpone writing about what I have to say this evening. The facts are plainly these, and I suppose I may as well come to the point at once_.” (It was time to turn a page, and John saw his mother’s face as she turned it.) “_I am writing to ask you if I may take the very serious step of leaving the Service. My reasons for asking this are chiefly these: I am not keen on the Navy. I don’t want to succeed in it--that is to say, the prospect of becoming an admiral doesn’t attract me. If I became an admiral I shouldn’t be very glad or very happy. If I won a Trafalgar I shouldn’t be very proud. And I think the sooner one leaves a profession one doesn’t want to rise in, the better_. “_It is not a case of sudden impulse--I have felt very much the same about it, though I haven’t always been quite so explicit with myself, ever since I came to sea, or, at least, ever since I began to realize what this job leads to. If I have stood it so long, why not longer? I have tried to fight it down. But, although I might make myself do a great deal of work, I can’t make myself care for it, and, after very long and careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that the end must inevitably come._ “_The great problem is that of money. I have always realized how much trouble you have taken, and how much money you have spent, in starting me in a profession, and I know that throwing it over now means a great sacrifice for you. First, there’s the cost of getting me out--the Admiralty will want something; then, if I am to enter almost any formal profession, the cost of training and educating me all over again; and lastly, there’s the uncertainty--instead of the present certainty--as to how much money I shall ultimately earn, and when I shall begin to earn it. It seems all money_. _“Of course, what I want to do is to write--you have known of that fatal desire ever since I could hold a pen. And I want to be free--but let that pass now, since this is almost a business letter. I should like to go to Oxford, but I’m afraid that’s impossible. So I think the best thing is to get out first--that’s the essential. And then, with a little help from you as a start, I could take rooms in a far corner of London and start in journalism. The future would take care of itself. I think Mr. Alter would help with advice as regards journalism_.