P.P.S. - Your picture came; and let me thank you for it very much.

I am so hunted I had near forgotten. I find it very graceful; and I mean to have it framed.

Letter: TO THOMAS STEVENSON

BONALLIE TOWERS, BOURNEMOUTH, NOVEMBER 1884.

MY DEAR FATHER, - I have no hesitation in recommending you to let your name go up; please yourself about an address; though I think, if we could meet, we could arrange something suitable. What you propose would be well enough in a way, but so modest as to suggest a whine. From that point of view it would be better to change a little; but this, whether we meet or not, we must discuss. Tait, Chrystal, the Royal Society, and I, all think you amply deserve this honour and far more; it is not the True Blue to call this serious compliment a 'trial'; you should be glad of this recognition. As for resigning, that is easy enough if found necessary; but to refuse would be husky and unsatisfactory. SIC SUBS.

R. L. S.

My cold is still very heavy; but I carry it well. f.a.n.n.y is very very much out of sorts, princ.i.p.ally through perpetual misery with me. I fear I have been a little in the dumps, which, AS YOU KNOW, SIR, is a very great sin. I must try to be more cheerful; but my cough is so severe that I have sometimes most exhausting nights and very peevish wakenings. However, this shall be remedied, and last night I was distinctly better than the night before. There is, my dear Mr. Stevenson (so I moralise blandly as we sit together on the devil's garden-wall), no more abominable sin than this gloom, this plaguey peevishness; why (say I) what matters it if we be a little uncomfortable - that is no reason for mangling our unhappy wives.

And then I turn and GIRN on the unfortunate Ca.s.sandra. - Your fellow culprit,

R. L. S.

Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY

WENSLEYDALE, BOURNEMOUTH, NOVEMBER 1884.

DEAR HENLEY, - We are all to pieces in health, and heavily handicapped with Arabs. I have a dreadful cough, whose attacks leave me AETAT. 90. I never let up on the Arabs, all the same, and rarely get less than eight pages out of hand, though hardly able to come downstairs for twittering knees.

I shall put in -'s letter. He says so little of his circ.u.mstances that I am in an impossibility to give him advice more specific than a copybook. Give him my love, however, and tell him it is the mark of the parochial gentleman who has never travelled to find all wrong in a foreign land. Let him hold on, and he will find one country as good as another; and in the meanwhile let him resist the fatal British tendency to communicate his dissatisfaction with a country to its inhabitants. 'Tis a good idea, but it somehow fails to please. In a fortnight, if I can keep my spirit in the box at all, I should be nearly through this Arabian desert; so can tackle something fresh. - Yours ever,

R. L. S.

Letter: TO THOMAS STEVENSON

BONALLIE TOWERS, BRANKSOME PARK, BOURNEMOUTH (THE THREE B'S) [NOVEMBER 5, 1884].

MY DEAR FATHER, - Allow me to say, in a strictly Pickwickian sense, that you are a silly fellow. I am pained indeed, but how should I be offended? I think you exaggerate; I cannot forget that you had the same impression of the DEACON; and yet, when you saw it played, were less revolted than you looked for; and I will still hope that the ADMIRAL also is not so bad as you suppose. There is one point, however, where I differ from you very frankly. Religion is in the world; I do not think you are the man to deny the importance of its role; and I have long decided not to leave it on one side in art.

The opposition of the Admiral and Mr. Pew is not, to my eyes, either horrible or irreverent; but it may be, and it probably is, very ill done: what then? This is a failure; better luck next time; more power to the elbow, more discretion, more wisdom in the design, and the old defeat becomes the scene of the new victory.

Concern yourself about no failure; they do not cost lives, as in engineering; they are the PIERRES PERDUES of successes. Fame is (truly) a vapour; do not think of it; if the writer means well and tries hard, no failure will injure him, whether with G.o.d or man.

I wish I could hear a brighter account of yourself; but I am inclined to acquit the ADMIRAL of having a share in the responsibility. My very heavy cold is, I hope, drawing off; and the change to this charming house in the forest will, I hope, complete my re-establishment. - With love to all, believe me, your ever affectionate,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER

BONALLIE TOWERS, BRANKSOME PARK, BOURNEMOUTH, NOVEMBER 11, [1884].

MY DEAR CHARLES, - I am in my new house, thus proudly styled, as you perceive; but the deevil a tower ava' can be perceived (except out of window); this is not as it should be; one might have hoped, at least, a turret. We are all vilely unwell. I put in the dark watches imitating a donkey with some success, but little pleasure; and in the afternoon I indulge in a smart fever, accompanied by aches and shivers. There is thus little monotony to be deplored.

I at least am a REGULAR invalid; I would scorn to bray in the afternoon; I would indignantly refuse the proposal to fever in the night. What is bred in the bone will come out, sir, in the flesh; and the same spirit that prompted me to date my letter regulates the hour and character of my attacks. - I am, sir, yours,

THOMSON.

Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER

POSTMARK, BOURNEMOUTH, 13TH NOVEMBER 1884.

MY DEAR THOMSON, - It's a maist remarkable fac', but nae shuner had I written yon braggin', blawin' letter aboot ma business habits, when bang! that very day, ma hoast begude in the aifternune. It is really remaurkable; it's providenshle, I believe. The ink wasnae fair dry, the words werenae weel ooten ma mouth, when bang, I got the lee. The mair ye think o't, Thomson, the less ye'll like the looks o't. Proavidence (I'm no' sayin') is all verra weel IN ITS PLACE; but if Proavidence has nae mainners, wha's to learn't?

Proavidence is a fine thing, but hoo would you like Proavidence to keep your till for ye? The richt place for Proavidence is in the kirk; it has naething to do wi' private correspondence between twa gentlemen, nor freendly cracks, nor a wee bit word of sculduddery ahint the door, nor, in sh.o.a.rt, wi' ony HOLE-AND-CORNER WARK, what I would call. I'm pairfec'ly willin' to meet in wi' Proavidence, I'll be prood to meet in wi' him, when my time's come and I cannae dae nae better; but if he's to come skinking aboot my stair-fit, d.a.m.ned, I micht as weel be deid for a' the comfort I'll can get in life. Cannae he no be made to understand that it's beneath him?

Gosh, if I was in his business, I wouldnae steir my heid for a plain, auld ex-elder that, tak him the way he taks himsel,' 's just aboot as honest as he can weel afford, an' but for a wheen auld scandals, near forgotten noo, is a pairfec'ly respectable and thoroughly decent man. Or if I fashed wi' him ava', it wad be kind o' handsome like; a pun'-note under his stair door, or a bottle o'

auld, blended malt to his bit marnin', as a teshtymonial like yon ye ken sae weel aboot, but mair successfu'.

Dear Thomson, have I ony money? If I have, SEND IT, for the loard's sake.

JOHNSON.

Letter: TO MISS FERRIER

BONALLIE TOWERS, BOURNEMOUTH, NOVEMBER 12, 1884.

MY DEAR COGGIE, - Many thanks for the two photos which now decorate my room. I was particularly glad to have the Bell Rock. I wonder if you saw me plunge, lance in rest, into a controversy thereanent?

It was a very one-sided affair. I slept upon the field of battle, paraded, sang Te Deum, and came home after a review rather than a campaign.

Please tell Campbell I got his letter. The Wild Woman of the West has been much amiss and complaining sorely. I hope nothing more serious is wrong with her than just my ill-health, and consequent anxiety and labour; but the deuce of it is, that the cause continues. I am about knocked out of time now: a miserable, snuffling, shivering, fever-stricken, nightmare-ridden, knee- jottering, hoast-hoast-hoasting shadow and remains of man. But we'll no gie ower jist yet a bittie. We've seen waur; and dod, mem, it's my belief that we'll see better. I dinna ken 'at I've muckle mair to say to ye, or, indeed, onything; but jist here's guid-fallowship, guid health, and the wale o' guid fortune to your bonny sel'; and my respecs to the Perfessor and his wife, and the Prinshiple, an' the Bell Rock, an' ony ither public chara'ters that I'm acquaunt wi'.

R. L. S.

Letter: TO EDMUND GOSSE