Synopsis Dear, dear, when the soft-hearts get hold of a thing like that missionary’s contribution they completely lose their tranquility over it. They speak profanely and reproach Heaven for allowing such a fiend to live. Meaning me. They think it irregular. They go shuddering around, brooding over the reduction of that Congo population from 25,000,000 to 150222,000 in the twenty years of my administration; then they burst out and call me ‘the King with Ten Million Murders on his Soul.’ They call me a ‘record.