With envelope

(January 12, 1883)

Dear Charles,

Thanks for your good letter. It is true, man, God's truth,
what ye say about the body, Stevison. The deil himsel, it's my belief, could no
get the soul harled oot o' the creature's wame ,or he had seen the hinder end o'
they proofs. Ye crack o'Maeenas; he's naebody by you! He gied the lad, Horace, a
rare farrit by all accounts; but damn! he never gied him proofs like you. Horace
may hae been a better hand at the olink than Steison,-- mind, I'm no sayin' 't--
but onyway he was never sae weel prentit. Damned, but it's bony! How mony pages
will there be, think ye? Steison hae sent ye the peck o' twenty songs-- fif-
teen I'se warrant. Well, that'll can make thretty pages, gin ye were to prent on
ae side only, whilk wad be perhaps what a man o'your great idees would be
at, man Johnson. Then there wad be the Pre-face, or prose ye ken prents oat long-
er than po'try at the hinder end, for ye hae to say things in't. An' then there'
'll be a title page and a dedication and a index &e wi' the first lines like, and
the deil an a'. Man, it'll be grand. Nae copies to be given to the Liberys!

I am alane mysel, in Nice, they ca't, but damned I think
they micht as well ca't Nesty. The Pile-on's they ca't, 's aboot as big as the
river Tay at Perth; and it's rainin' maist like Greenock. Dod, I've seen's bad
main o'what they ca' the I-talian at Muttonhole. I-talian! I havenae seen the
sun for eight and forty hours. Thomson's better, I believe. But the body's fain
attenyated. He's doon to seeven stane eeleven, an' he sooks away at cod liver ile,
em till it's a fair disgrace. Ye see he tak's it on a drap brandy; and it's my
belief, its just an excouse for a dram. But the creature was aye drucken, that's
well kent, an sma' shame to me. He an' Stvison gang about their lane, maistly;
they're company to ither, like, a whiles they'll speak o Johnson. But he's far

Hotel des Iles d'Or,

Sunday March 11, 1883

Hyères, Var.

My dear Charles,

My people are away from home, and I have already written
to them for money and fear it will come to late. Pray telegraph L20 to me.
It won't be for long, for I have a book being debated now between Henley and
a brutal and licentious publisher. And this money should arrive I reckon, if
you telegraph it, on Wednesday; and on Thursday I shall be entering on poss-
ession of

Chalet la Solitude

Hyères-les-Palmias

Var France

And in great need of money: Pray manage this: your own terms of course for
interest; and as I say it should not be for long. TELEGRAPH.

My health is much better; but my wife is no great shakes.
It has been snowing, freezing, and blowing great guns for three mortal days.
The cold is ultra-Swiss, ultra-Polar, in these pasteboard houses. You never
answered my last (business) letter, probably undated, inclosing one from
Young of San Francisco. I pray God it come to hand.

Much hurried and chilled and savage,

R. L. S.

Unpublished.

Chalet la Solitude,
Hyères, Var.

April 21, 1883

Dear Sir,

Your undated favour of the twenty second caused me repeatedly to vomit.

Nails are steady 1/5 @ 6.0.P.

Dear Sir,

Enclosed please find a cheque for L45. and a note and bill from H. J.
Storrs. Putting this and that together, you will see what is to be done. The bal-
lance, if balance it may be called-- ballance me that-- please retain in your oom-
mercial custody.

I am sir,

Dear Charles,

How's that for clear & calculated?
Can skill be overestimated?
Or can the business witness fail
To keep a man in beef and ale?
"It cannot"-- with commercial pride,
The actuarial umpire cried--
"All who go in for dates and doackets
Glory in well-filled guts and pockets;
But they who do not date their letters
Perish at last in straw and fetters!"

The Inspired Bard.

Dear Sir,

In reply to your insulting and undated favour dated (post-
mark, Hanwell) I have the pleasure to inform you that I despise your bestial rancour,
and y that your crude, unclear and cruel imputations fall powerless from the shield
of my commercial honour.

The kitchen maid, to whom you refer, was already in the family way when she entered the service of my family. The page was dismissed by myself and not, as you dare to insinuate, by an outraged spouse. I resigned from the Kirk Session because of the pressure of my commercial affairs; and although it may be true that I have had, in earlier and more thoughtless years, been condemned for forgery, arson, stilicide, public butlery, and rape followed by murder on the person of twelve infant children and flaxen headed children of different sexes, I cannot see what connection the most infernal malignity can trace between these early errata and misfortunes, and my present honourable and, I may add, envied status.

I am, dear sir, with every sentiment of loathing and repudiation for your vomitable and degreded nature,

Unpublished.

Chalet La Solitude

Hyères les Palmiers: Var: France.

8th May: 1883

My dear Charles.

Did you not receive a cheque for L6.15?
If not, stop it at once through Cassell's who drew it in my
favour.

Also pray send me what money I have, I
guess about L20? I hope so. I am very tired; I am working
like a tiger: sometimes seven or eight Cornhill pp. a day, if
you can imagine what that means. A novel is the rig: Prince
Otto. I am to get L100 from Cassell's for Treasure Island,
which puts me fairly on my feet: and if health only holds
good, there I should remain. À-propos, Henley will probably
ask you to communicate my bargain about Treasure Island with
James Henderson: as the Cassells must see it: this, then,
pray do.

Who would have thought T. Id would have
so splendidly panned out? Honour to Piracy, up with the flag!

Ever yours,

R.L.S.

My wife is not well. I have written to Henley a note to show
to at the Savile Committee.

Unpublished.

La Solitude,

June 21, 1883

Dear Charles,

I enclose two bargains which I beg you to
add to my archives in the halls of Baxtererium.

I have no good news: Sam, Fanny and the
dog have all been ill; and my life is become so merely a
question of aperients and from five to seven hours a day of
clerking, that I have nothing to relate. Hitherto, the ship
swims. How long it may continue to vogue, I cannot fancy.
Grim spirit of Finance, how you displume romance! O, lies
there not some anse, Along the shores of France Where
breakers never prance and Sal and Tom and Nance May wanton
in the dance And with enamoured glance Defying time and
chance In that delightful stance Far from both Kirk and
Manse Melt time into a trance! There sure should I en-
hance My meagre corpulence. O, that would be my Fance-
Y for a Permanance.

It seltery.
Et seltney

Adoo,

R.L.S.

Unpublished

Mrs. R. L. Stevenson.

La Solitude,

(June 1883?)

My dear Mr. Baxter,

Many thanks for settling the question of my identity so far as it can be settled. The new element of uncertainty concerning that dynamite explosion sometimes called Jaickson was too much for my shattered frame. My frame is greatly shattered, but we all hope for repairs at Royat. We start tomorrow. My mind is so dulled that the Tauchnitz affair will not understand itself. The Bogue has the mange. He is very like Jaickson. He is so thoroughly convinced of his deserts and our afflictions, that he bites and worries us just as he likes. We think of having them both vaccinated by Pasteur against the "rage." We tell Jaickson that we want him to come and write plays, but that is only a ruse to get him into the hands of the unsorupulous Franchman.

Louis seems to be daily gaining strength, but he needs the change, as do we all, extremely. The poor Coggie is quite knocked up by the summer weather and complains of softening of the brain. It is odd how many people suffer from softening of the brain, and how few from softening of the heart. I don't mean Coggie; she has the best heart in the world. I tremble to think what we should have done without her. I never in my life met a creature of such crystalline honesty and kindness.

There is Louis bell-- I suppose for me. Much love to you and yours, and believe me always

Unpublished.

Received by Charles Baxter July 5, 1983

Clermont Ferrand
Hotel de la poste

Soon to go to Royat.

My dear Charles,

Henley says, and I obey, that I am to in-
struct you to request Paul to inform us what has become of Trs. with a Dy.
and Id Vge; and that I am to be at the same time to request you to inform him
(Henley) what he (Paul) shall say to you (Baxter) about my (Stevenson's)
works: with a ri dum ro dum Henley Paul and me! The point is about the
conflagration and the great exasperation of the authors congregation with
Pauline Swindleation: with a ri dum, ro dum, Henley, Paul and me! Your
letter came to hand I count the Deacon dead as mud. Managers I suppose
are like publishers. But the truth is the sanguine Henley, that dog-like
like optimist, hopes against despair. If it failed in Glasga, as I gat-
her it did, it is a dead rat.

Glad it produced as much as it did. You
will hear my address from my people. Sam is better: Fanny ditto: George
North, do. Tis plain, the latter is just killing Young Folks.

(Here is an original pen-and ink drawing by R.L.S. of Captain North sitting on a mound marked "Young Folks," with the following legend in R.L.S.'s hand: "Captain Geo. threading his sailmakers needle to finally kill his victim.").

I am dear Sir

Yours ever

George North

Unpublished.

+ALS-

d 1 Reprts is thebury of Hepa Pauls premiere with all
the stock, april 17, 1983

With envelope.

3 Encl.

Chambers-- La Solitude,

3 Oct. 1883

My dear Charlie-over-the-Whiskey-and-Water,

Your despatch of the 1st duly to hand-- Encl.
ahem! Encl. We shall say nothing of any serious topic, for they are all the devil.
Coggie is a capital person. I wish I could get among you all. Encl. Selah.

"Encl." says he, "Selah" says she.

We're both as happy as happy can be.

I think I'll keep your cheque though I do not
immediately need it, being at length floated by the incompetent Cassells. Cassells
in the air. That firm is doomed. Is a man who is not a model of business habits,
then neglect, delay and abject and general confusion, strikes amaze. Encl. I wrote
and-- Encl.-- told them so.

I hesitate between viewing "enole" as the
equivalent of "ahem" or as a sort of drear solemnity like Selah in the psalmns.

What is Encl? ANYWAY?

Did you hear of the "Strages Bankerorum," when
I smote a whole banking house hip and thigh-- arranged their papers for them-- and
was conducted to the street by louting managers and seo.'s? It took place at Cler-
mont-Ferrand; and I had a medal struck-- enol.

I am
yours enolitically

R. L. S.

The B--K better; stocks rising; nails firm; alcohol plentiful; hardward
tender.

(Here is an original pen-and-ink drawing by R.L.S. of both sides of a
medal, depicting himself victor above prostrate bankers, with inscription, and the

La Solitude

Eicht October Anohty three.
(Oct. 8th, 1883).

Dear Cherlie over the whiskey and water,

I enclose a chequie; it's
aye drib-dribblin, like an auld man's water-- pegs! or mines!

I hear you're aihlins for
Highairs about the New Year.

MAN, COME!

The wife's greetin' fair to
see the baith o'ye; and for mysell, I haenae been what ye would richtly
ca' sober sin' the news caim in.

EH, MAN, COME!

For society, there isna
sae muckle; but there's myself-- the auld Jonstone, ye yen-- he's the
real Mackay, whatever-- and there's the wife, puir wean-- an' there's
Powel the druggist, a fine canty body; and, man, there's a grog shop
whaur, eny afternoon, twa auld men sit crackin, that taydious that the
diel wud die of it, an it's grand sport for once in the week.

Yours te-totally

Drucken Au'ra

Thomson Esq.
Toddy Vale,
Talisker,
Glen-Tremens,
Argyll.

Unpublished.

Received by Charles Baxter, 19 Oct. 1883.

Encl: a cheque.

La Solitude

(October 1883).

Cherlie over the whiskey and water
Here is a checkie, ye see;
Please put it down to me;
And I will be
Yours as he oughte

Robert Louee

That's Louis, in their French way: Louee; to rime wi' free. Eh me! do
ye see? I've been spittin some mair blood; but I dinnae wish my faither tauld
o't. I'm that used wi' it mysel, that I dannae mind it a damn. But I'm feared
to annoy the auld man; he's no sae cheery onyway as I wud have likit to see.
Louee. eh me! Whuskey's better nor tea. That rhyme's ower muckle for me; I
cannae resist it-- he-- he! thots gang to the D.

Yours
Louee.

Yon's a lie about the Bankeri; I mean a lee, about the Bankerce; and
there I'm again in the deep sea; nae help for me, but to rime till I dee.

Louee
pee pee
hee-hee.

1 If your sister merried an' had a wean, what wud that wean ca' ye?

Encl. Cherlie!

2 When ye dinnae ken a thing what do ye gang?

To the Encl-poedia.

3 What is the commonest plant in lawyer's chalmers?

The encl.osier.
0!

Down by the streams o' writin' ink
The Encl. osier blows.

Shakespeare (Wully).

Awa, and tak a dram.
Scots champagney.

Unpublished.

Encl. L5.5.

La Solitude

(October 1883)

Verily, verily I say unto thee, it is not those that say unto me, Enole, Enol,
but those who acknowledge cheques, who enter into the Kingdom of the Cygnet.

2 And the scribe was sore abashed for he was a damnable correspondent, and
he had not acknowledge a draught of twenty five shekels of silver,

3 And he lifted up his voice and wept.

4 And behold it came to pass that the sound of his lamentations came to the
ears of Johnson,

5 And Johnson lifted up his eyes and saw him afar off beside a public urinal.

6 And he hasted and went and came to him, even as a man running.

7 And when he was near at hand, the Scribe lifted up his voice, and put upon his hair, and refused to be conforted,

8 Continually crying, "I have sinned in they sight, O Johnson, and am no more
worthy to be called they Thomson."

9 And the evening and the morning were the fourth day; but the morning and
the evening were the fifth.

10 This is a hard saying and worthy of Bedlam.

Here endeth the Second Lesson

But the third, I warrant, shall be somewhat sharper.

(R. L. Stevenson)

Unpublished.

With envelope: Received by Baxter, Dec. 7, 1883.
Unpublished.

La Solitude, Dec. 5.
Toddy Vale,
by Kilrummer.

Thomson

It's done-- I'm a disenter. I kenned fine frae the beginning hoo it
would a'end; I saw there was nae justice for auld Johnstone. The last I tauld ye,
they had begun a clash aboot the drink. O sic a disgrace! When, if onything, I
rayther drink less nor mair since yon damned scandal about the blue ribbon. I took
the souner as faur back as that, Thomson-- and O man, I wuss that I had just left
the establishment that very day! But no; I was aye loyal like them that went a-
fore me.

Well, the ither day, up comes yon red-heedit, pishion-faced oreeter--
him a minister! "Mr. Johnstone," says he, "I think it my duty to tell 'ee that
there's a most unpleisand fama about you." "Sir," says I, "they take a plee-
sure to persecute me. What is't noo?"

What was't? Man, Thomson, I think shame to write it: **NO BONY-FEED WI'**
**THE PLATE.** Is'n that pectiful? The auld, auld story! The same weary, auld, hav-
ering claver 'at they tauld about Sandie Sparran-- him that was subsekently hanged,
ye'll mind. And wi me-- hoo improbable! But it comes o' that silly hash about my
brither Sandy's trust: a thankless office, the trustees!

Whatever, I saw that I was by wi't. Says I "I leave the Kirk"--
"Well," says he, "I think you're parfitly richt" and a wheen muir maist unjudecial
and injudeecious observations. Noo, I'm a Morrisonian an I like it fine. We're
a sma' body, but unco tosh. The pregentor's auld, tae; an' if ye'll meet in wi'
our opeenions-- some o'them damned hetrodx by my way o't, but a body cannae have
a' thing-- I make nae mainner o'doobt but what ye micht suoced him. I'm a great

light in the body; much sympathy was felt for me generally among the mair
leeberal o' a' persuasions: A man at my time o' life and kent sae lang!

Aw. Johnstone.

P. S. I'll hae to pay for the wean. In a so-ca'd Christian country! Mercy me!

La Solitude

(first week of December, 1883)

Dear Charles,

I inclose a receipt with thanks. Henley of that ilk bids me explain to you Cook's tickets, and how they allow you to travel in first class carriages at second class fare. But this they do not necessarily do. They only allow you to mount in First Class trains. Du reste, consult COOK— he hath an office everywhere: consult him; fall on his buzzim.

R.L.S.

more over

(On verso of leaf, in Mrs. Stevenson's hand):--

My dear Mr. Baxter,

A word, Leave your blue ribbon at home, and at
whatever cost to health or morals _drink no water_ on the journey. A
woman is just dead here from drinking water in Paris, in siphon;
the siphon, if that is the way to spell it. St. Galmer is the _only_
safe beverage; siphon is made possibly of poison water. We are in
fluttering expectation of your visit. My regards, please, to your
wife, and this time

Unpublished.

Mrs. R.L.Stevenson, to Charles Baxter.
With envelope postmarked Dec. 15, 1883

La Solitude (Dec. 15, 1883).

My dear Mr. Baxter,

I hope to receive by return mail the date of your departure from Edinburgh en route for Hyeres. Strange reports of intended dishonorable conduct on your part have reached our unwilling ears; but the noble natures of your friend and your friend's wife refuse to entertain suggestions of derogatory to your character as a Christian gentleman. I hardly suppose you know that it was the expectation of your visit that made Louis decide finally to throw over the Island scheme, which would have brought him in four hundred and fifty pounds, a book in the future, and given him a chance to see places that have been the dream of his life. And of course it is not possible that you could know that not so much as a shoe-string has been bought for me this Autumn and Winter, because we have been saving our money to spend when you come. You rooms, too, are engaged, but that is a small matter. Of course I know you are not so heartless as to offer the cup to the lips of a poor invalid like Louis, whose life is so dull, (his only companions month in and month out a cross dog and an overbearing wife) only to dash it to the earth after he has refused everything else that could either cheer or inebriate. The thought is too inhuman. You see friends every day and do not realize what the disappointment would be to Louis. The truth is I cannot have Louis disappointed, you _must_ come. You made the offer so long ago that we had time to throw over all our own plans and begin upon the new basis of your proposed visit. Ask Mrs. Baxter. I know she will send you at once, as I should send Louis to you were you the consumptive exile longing for a sight of your friends. Please let me know when you will start, and about when you will arrive. Give my love to Mrs. Baxter, pray an tell her I should send other messages but that my mind is so engrossed in the matter in hand. My determination (**determination**) that my dear Louis is not to be disappointed in what he so very much desires.
According to your intentions believe me to be more or less sincerely yours,

F. V. de G. Stevenson

Unpublished.

+ one.

With envelope postmarked April 28, 1884

La Solitude,

(April 28, 1884)

Encl.

Dear Charles,

Encl. please find a cheque for L40. Storr's bill of L39 odds-- and Storr's letter, directing how he wishes to be paid. Apply business talents and serve hot.

I have been faur frae weel this whylie, but I keep pus-
hin farrit. I have sent Sam a draught on your firm. I am generally all
there, what there is o'me, includin a skyatica. It's grand, the skyatica.
It's a kind of an alto pain; a kind of a piccoly pain, like thon orchesty
whistle ye used to toot upon yoursel, Mr. Thomson, an' a grand feggure you
were, sir, though no ae sae muckle sound as was expeokit frae your feesog-
nomomy. Prood was I to hear ye.

Whan first upon the alto flute
Great Mr. Thomson tried to toot;
Tho' Piccolo was what its name was
Sae great that eident player's #le fame was,
An' he could blaw sae sma' and skilly,
They changed the name to Piccalilly.

Unpublished.

(Hyeres, Spring 1884).

Dear Charles,

Herewith the cheque. I am mucke obleged to you for
a' 'its come and gane. I'm a whен be'er. The deevil an' me's no dune
yet. It's lang or the deil.

I am dear Charles

Yours entirely

Thomson

My first name is Dauvit. Do ye mind when I was a baker at Kinkintilloch?
Yon were braw days! And when I keept a wee, bit, tosh, laigh, canny dram
shop at Camlang? Eh, it was grand! Noo, I'm a mere wauf, randy beggar-
man.

I were war what they ca'd an honest man, and I was aye
keen for the siller. But man, can ye no get Jaikson to ca' cannier? I
dinnae mind muckle, but yon puir Tauchnitz (if that be his name) comes
atten me and my vivers. It's a dam shame, by what I can see-- a fair dis-
grace-- and him a common German. Tauch! says you. Nitz! says I, and gives
ye them!

D. Thomson.

Unpublished
Savile Club gfit.

An unsigned or unfinished letter to Sir Walter Simpson.

La Solitude

(April 1884 ?)

My dear Simpson,

The bag has not yet turned up; but the letter did and
greatly pleased us; it was the most Simpsonian thing ever penned: the
essence of Stravon. The Bag will be acknowledged in due season.

I must tell you a joke. A month or two ago, there was
an alarm: it looked like family. Prostration: I saw myself financially
ruined, I saw the child born sickly &c. Then, said I, I must look this
thing on the good side; proceeded to do so studiously; and with such a
result that when the alarm passed off— I was inconsolable!

You like accounts: observe & this partial budget.

Earnings

rent L 80
Sam's school L 135
L 215
L 365
215
L 150

to live, laugh, love and pay the taxes with. I pushed the budget no
farther. Next year I shall make L 500: that is if I keep well. I have been
spitting blood for a week, but now it has stopped. When I spit blood I write
verses: same principle as the ancient phlebotomy.

I have written a novel: curious to hear your views of
it. It will probably not appear for a year yet. My own belief is that I have
made a spoon: any way it is a step; I have worked round to be able to tell
a story in my way. It's a queer way; but I think it has merit.

Unpublished

From R. L. Stevenson to W. E. Henley.

Higholiff Hotel,

Bournemouth.

(August 1884?)

Dear William Ernest Hart,

What is the reason of things? The Piratic and obscure Mennel, came, interviewed my uncle, and then, without a word, fled, leaving me unadvised; since when I have not seen him. My uncle praised the pirate, said he agreed with him, said I was quite well, said my hemorrhage was all exaggeration (my wife's), said Mennel said so, said we were to throw the ergotine out of the window, said I might live in England, &c. The Simoon blew. It was wild weather.

Next day, being without word of Mennel (and so still!) I went up to Brunton on the chance. E. condemned me out of hand, and says both lungs are affected seriously, and ordered me to the Alps in winter. Then I came here, which is a pretty nice place (and a lovely journey), and I know nothing about anything, and as for Mennel his tricks they are vain, his whole little game is more than a lark. In the words of his sacred Majesty King George the Third--- What---what---what--- why, why, why?

Can you throw any light? Did they quarrel, or did the pirate sell my uncle, or had he sold us, or did his courage collapse, and why did he bolt?

I am dull and have a cold, real dull. About old glory I see much to say and, when I am less stupid, shall say it; but now! Unbroken clouds extend.

Yours ever

R. L. S.
of Bournemouth,

Davos, Torquey, Mentone, Nîce, Cannes & Hyères, Grez, Invalid.

Unpublished.

With envelope postmarked November 13, 1884

Bonallie Towers,
Branksome Park,
Bournemouth.

Nov. 11th. (1884).

My dear Charles,

I beg to inform you that I have already received Colvin's interest from him directly; I also beg to apologise for sinful delay about the enclosed receipt, which may still be interesting from an antiquarian point of view. I am in my new house, thus proudly styled, as you perceive; but the devil 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 bogshop.

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; and what might still weigh upon me, my wife lightens by various inexplicable attacks, now in the pleasant morn, now at the noon of night. 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

Partly published in the *Letters*.

Received by Charles Baxter in envelope postmarked Nov. 13, 1884

Bournemouth,

(Nov. 13, 1884)

My dear Thomson,

It's a maist remarkable fact, but nae shuner had I written
you braggin, blawin, letter aboot ma business habits, when bang! that very day,
my hoast begude in the aifternune! It is really remaurkable; its providenshle,
I believe. The in, was nae fair dry, when-I the words were nae well 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 corres-
pondence between two gentlemen, nor freendly cracks, noo a wee bit word o' soul-
duddery ahint the door, nor, in shoart, wi ony hole an' corner work, what I would
call. I'm pairfeo'ly willin' to meet in wi' proavidence, I'll be proof to meet in
wi' him, when my time's come an' I cannae doe nae better; but if he's to come
skinking aboot my stair-fit, damned, if-I be I micht as weel be deed for a' the
confort I'll get in life. Cannae he no be made to understand that it's beneath
him? Gosh, if I was in his business, I wouldnae steer my heid for a plain, auld
ex-elder that, tak' him the way he tak's himsel,'s just aboot as honest as he can
well afford, an' but for drink or weemen an a wheen auld scandals, near forgot-
ten noo, is a pairfeckly respectable and thoroughly decent man. An if I fashed
wi' him awa', it wad he kind o'handsome like; a pun-note under his stair door,
a bottle o'auld, blanded malt to his bit mornin,' or a teshtymonial like yon ye
ken sae weel aboot, but mair successfu.'

Dear Thomson, have I ony money. If I have, send it to for
the loard's sake.

Johnson.

Unpublished.

Bonallie Towers,
Branksome Park,
Bournemouth,

Nov. 16th, 1884

My dear Charles,

Herewith receipt and thanks. I was much surprised and vexed to hear of the death of poor Magnus; so I go on outliving people. Is it not strange? I am very sorry for Eva; but I do not see that I should write to her. I am on Walter's side in their dispute; I think she has behaved badly; I wrote to her once, and was not answered; and I have no desire to seek the renewal of an acquaintance, where my own esteem is doubtful, and which would not improbably find its solution in a quarrel. The death of Mag. really removes the last link that was at all likely to have brought us together. Of course you understand, I have, and I wish no quarrel; and if I had anything to say, as I most sincerely pity her isolation and bereavement, I might even stretch a point and write. But what is there to say? There is only one consolation that I know, and that as old as the bible: that he is taken away from the evil to come. He is safe, now from pain & dishonour. More I know not: nor any man. But it is probably well with him.

Please look up the papers you have about Hervey Osbourne's grave; find the address of the marbrier; take up your best French quill and see that the concession is assured for some while longer. This is immediate: please see to it. I would write myself to save posts; but have not the address.

On Thursday, I was 34, and Magnus I suppose in his grave!

You might send me some details.

Unpublished.

Bournemouth,

(November, 1884?)

Dear Charles,

I know not what to say about
that money: (I had a dam dream that I had bust
up; these Australian failures would rather
shake the thing, wouldn't they?

For God's sake, see about the
boy's grave in Paris at once; I feel sure the
concession runs near an end. Believe me, the
huntedest bugger in Christendie.

R. L. S.

Having been betrayed into a low expression, I
will put a good many privates on the envelope.

Unpublished.