WCP3599

[1]

Belmont, P[ort]. of Spain

Frid[ay]. Oct. 6th? 1905

Mr Thayer¹!!!

How could you do it? Words fail me to express the emotions which the receipt of your cablegram aroused in me. It simply staggered me. I received a note from the Colonial Bank late on Monday afternoon last saying that they had received a c.g. from N[ew] Y[ork] which ^{had to be} they wished to communicated to me. This was sufficiently astonishing, but when I managed to get there by the tram on Tuesday, & heard the message — "Mr B. to proceed to New York ^{to recuperate}. Pay him $100." I was lost in wonder & amazement.

Oh, dear friend, I thank you from my heart for the love which prompted such spontaneous generosity. How I wish that I could let it be satisfied, by my acceptance of the gift!

I know you will be sorry, but I cannot take it, for these reasons:- I have done nothing to deserve it. Only if I were nearly dying, which I feel I am not, could I accept it. I can't leave my post, as I have promised to reveal the nature of the insect fauna of the lower Orinoco to Dr Wallace (who is extremely anxious that I sh[oul]d. do ^so, that he may compare it with his own experiences on the upper river, the R[io] Negro & the Amazon.) during this coming dry season. [2] & fourthly, because I cannot afford to lose the adaptation to the climate wh[ich] my body has so painfully acquired during the last 16 months. When I go north I want to go for good, as I'm certain the cold & bracing climate is way much better for me than the enervating one of the tropics. When I wrote — that I wished myself back in England, it ^I meant — for good.

But if I have to go anywehere to recuperate it must be some healthy place in the tropics, that I may not lose the abovementioned advantage. I have come thro[ugh] the 8th attack & feel that my body is conquering it, if slowly. I am using an intensely bitter herb, wh[ich] the Creoles here use, called Zebrianpeak[?] from the leaf being peaked, so ². Two leaves of this to a pint of water make a tea as bitter as ^{a sprig of} our Eng[lish] Wormwood. I drink a gill in the morning before [1 word illeg.] taking my porridge of Plasmon Oats & the other gill in the evening before my rice & stewed ^(dried) apples — hot. The midday meal wh[ich] I can't get into the habit of calling "breakfast" as folks here do, consists of lentil soup with rice or bread & stewed prunes. My drink (other than the medicine) is lemonade hot in the moring & in the evening, cold at midday. Thus by simple living, I have come thro[ugh]' the successive attacks looking & feeling much better that most men do. In fact many people think there's nothing wrong with me, & marvel when I tell them how ill I've been. For instance — when I left the bank on Tues[day]. afternoon [3] I thought it w[oul]d do me good to walk back. The walking road is much shorter (1/2 a mile) than the tram road. On this day, however, the part wh[ich]makes the short cut was rendered impassible to some by the flooring of the bridge over "dry river" being taken up having 5 narrow spans on 6" wide with a 15ft. drop if a false step were taken. A crowd of men & boys clustered about barrier intensely delighted at the chance of observing demeanor of the folks going home from town. Great strapping healthy blacks turned away preferring to go all the way round & were promply jeered! Those who did cross were apt to be unnerved by the loud chorus of "Left, Right, Left, Right", chanted by the crowd.

As I got up ^{one of} the boys shouted "Here's "rosycheeks." See him do it." (This is the nickname they have for me on that road.) "He won't" shouted another. The fever was strong on me & was to be at its height that night, but I determined to go on, & by keeping eyes fixed 2-3 y[ar]ds ahead & shutting out the din I crossed safely. So you can see from this that I'm on the way to complete recovery.

I got the fever at Las Cuevos on the north coast where I had to sleep 3 nights without a 'sketer [mosquito] net. The labourers will not stay on the plantation there because mal[arial] fever is so prevalent, but this I learnt only on the last day. As I have asked my sister hell-darling playmate! to send Mary the account of this trip along with other accounts of holidays at home. I will not write further about it now. I am hoping that your letter will [4] contain some word about the possibility of your getting an agent for me, or else of my being able to send insects to the Smithsonian Inst[itute] or N[ew] Y[ork] museum with the assurance of being properly paid for them. The former body, I heard in Eng[land] from my friend Mr Rob[er]t Newstead³ (author of the best work ever published on the coccidae (Scale Insects) & Curator of Chester Museum & F. of I don't know how many doc[ument]s!) equips men & sends them out, all expenses paid, & pays liberally for all coll[ection]s made in the tropics so that they will surely be willing to buy from one who supports himself. But I would prefer a really good agent who is a good Entemologist & will know the value of what I send.

For I am a searcher for, & discoverer of, the beauty of brown & grey, rather than of red & blue & yellows. My delight i.e. is in the obscurer forms & most of my coll[ection]s have been of this type. Now this is an advantage to any body of museum men who are anxious to know — what a country produces in all orders of Insect Life. But unfortunately the Agent who has so far acted for me in Eng[land] (O.E Janson⁴) does not seem to care for anything but large & gaily coloured butterflies, of which there are few in [1 word illeg.] hence my coll[ection]s here ^have brought me extremely little. And if it had not been for the kindness of the good brothers Carr wh[ich] enables me to live here rent free I sh[oul]d have been compelled long ago to leave the Island. (The house is very old & falling to pieces else I co[uld]n't have the use of it). [5] To a good Agent I will pay 20% commission & shall require from him those full accounts mentioned in last letter.

It is because Janson will not render me those but wants me to be satisfied with merely the totals brought by the various Orders that I can feel no confidence in him.

He on his part is afraid I shall send direct to his clients if I learn their names & prices they pay, tho[ugh] I have assured him that I have no such desire. I have stood much unnecessary complaint & insult from him & wish as soon as possible to part from him.

Oh, I am sorry to have to bring my trouble into your busy life. I trust the disturbance will soon be over.

Ever yours devotedly | Fred. Birch [signature]