I felt it my duty to write, but it has been a distressing one.

It would have been _better_ for me to have lain in the brown grass on the cliff, or to have walked slowly by the sea.

It would have been kinder of you to have written to me directly about whatever harsh or hurt feelings you may have about me.

It would have saved me an afternoon of strain, and tension.
But I have something more to say.

It is pleasanter to me, now, to write about others, than about myself.
The enclosed is from a brother prisoner of mine: released June 4th: pray read it: you will see his age, offence, and aim in life.
If you can give him a trial, do so.