The herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1893-1900, 1895-02-17

and often enthusiastic. He was so much
his own severest critic that he probably
paid little heed to professional reviewers.
In addition to his Rathillet and what
other MSS. he destroyed, he ouce, in the
Highlands, long ago, lost II portmanteau
with batch of his writings. Alas, that
he should have lost or burned anything!
kings chaffg' says our country pro
verb, lis better than other folks corn.
have remembered very little, or very
little that | can write, here and now; and
about our last meeting, when he was SO
near death, in appearance, and SO run OF
courage-how can / speak? His courage
was strong rock not to be taken or sub
dued. When unable to utter u single
word, his penciled remarks to ms az
PENDANTS were fitting and extremely
! characters site. This courage and spirit
ual vitality made one hope that he would
if he desired it, live as long as Noltalre,
that reed among oaks. There were, OF
course, in so rare a combination OF char-
acteristics, some which were not equally
to the liking of ALL
He was highly original in costume, but,
as his photographs are familiar, the point
does not need calculation. Life was a
drama to him, and he delighted, like his
own British admirals to do things with q
certain air. He observed himself, ! used
to think, as he observed Others, and saw
iiiiuoCll III every BtIt HC Sps
was nothing of the cabotin i'll tins sell,
consciousness; it was the uneXtinguished
childish passion for 'playing at Things
which remained with him. have the,
DRY that all children possess genius, ana
that it dies out in the generality 3ot NOR
tails, abiding with people whose genius the
| world is forced to recognize. MIR. Stew
enson illustrates, and perhaps partly ex.
aggerated, this private philosophy OF
| mine.
| have said very little | have no skill
| in "reminiscences; no art to BRING ne
| living aspect of the man before those VINO
never knew him. | plainly see, myself,
| the eager face, the light, nervous fingers,
| busy with rolling cigarettes; Mr. Steven
| son talking, listening, often rising from
| his seat; standing, walking to and fro,
| always full of novel intelligence, wearing
a mysterious smile. ! remember one
| pleasant dark afternoon, when he told me
many tales OF strange adventures, MARIA
| tives which he had heard about murder
Gus, lonely inn, somewhere i'll the states
| He was as good to hear as to read. do not
recollcct much of that delight in dis
cusson, in controversy, which he shams
| in his essay on conversation, where he de,
| scribes, believe, Mr.. Henley as 'Burley.
and Mr.. Symonds as "Opalstein. He
had great pleasure in the talk of the late
| Professor Fleming Jenkyn. which was
| both various and copious. But in these
noctes ceneque Deum | was never par
| taker.
In many topics, such as angling, golf,
| cricket, wherein | am willingly diffuse,
| Mr.. Stevenson took no interest. He was
| very fond of boating and sailing of every
| kind; he hazarded his health by long eX-
| petitions among the fairy isles of ocean,
but he was not Il British sportsman,
| though for his measure of strength good
pedestrian, u friend of the open air and oil
all who live and toll therein.
AS to his literary likings, they appear
in his own confessions. He revealed in
Dickens, but, about Thackery-well,
would rather have talked to somebody
else +! Tony amazement, he was OF those
q think who find Thackery cynical
'He takes you into a garden, and then
pelts you with'-horrid thingsi Mr.
Stevenson, on the other hand, had 9
more free admiration of Mr.
George Meredith than | can assert for my
self. He did not so easily forgive the
languors and Harnesses Of Scott, as Scot
should do. He read French much Greek
only in translations.
Literature was OF course, his mrs.
love, but he was actually an ad
vocate at the Scottish bar, and, al
such, had his name on brazen door
plate. Once he was Il competitor Tor ;
Chair of Modern History in Edinburg
University; he knew the romanti'
side of Scottish history very well
of James Mohr Macgregor is WONDERFUL,
OWNED. Lately read some unpublished
letters of Catriona's unworthy father
written when he was selling himself as
spy land lying as he spicd) to the Han
overian usurper. Mr.. Stevenson nigh
have written these letters for jane
Mohr; they might be extracts from Cat
ROMA
In turning over old Jacobite pamphlets
I found a forgotten romance OF Prince
Charles hidden years, and 'longed thai
Mr.. Stevenson should retel it. There was
Treasure, an authentic treasure; there
were real spies, real assassin, {
real or reported rescue of II lovely
girl from a fire at Strausbourg, by the
| Prince. The tale was to begin sur lie pont
d'Avignon; young Scotch exile watch
ing the Rhone, thinking how much of il
he could cover with a salmon fly, think
ing of Tay or Beauty. TO him enter an
other shady tramping. exile. Blarth
run on, as the authors fancy might
lead him, with Allan Breck and the mas
ter for characters. At last, in unpublished
MSS. found an actual master of Ballan
trae, Highland chief-noble, maiestical
ly handsome--and a paid, spy OF Eng
Samoa, too late. The novel was to have
been dedicated to me- and that chance Of
Immortality is gonei with so much else
Mr.. Stevenson last letters to myself
were full of his concern for common
friend of ours, who was very ill. De
pressed himself, Mr.. Stevenson wrote tc
this genteman-why should | not men
ton Mr. James Payn?-with consoling
gaiety. I attributed his depression t.
any cause but his own health of which
he rarely spoke. He lamented the ''ill
starred fifth act of his life"; he, at least
had no long, hopeless years of dimin
ished force to bear.
l have known no man in whom
the pre-eminently manly virtues of kind
ness: courage, sympathy, generosity
| helpfulneSs, were more beautifully
conspicuous than in Mr. Stevenson, none
so much loved-it is not too strong
worldly so many and such various PEG
pie. He was as unique in character as in
literary genius