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effect。 However； A LA GRACE DE DIEU！ I'll make a spoon or spoil a
horn。 You see； I have to do the Building of the Bell Rock by
cutting down and packing my grandsire's book； which I rather hope I
have done； but do not know。 And it makes a huge chunk of a very
different style and quality between Chapters II。 and IV。 And it
can't be helped！ It is just a delightful and exasperating
necessity。 You know； the stuff is really excellent narrative：
only； perhaps there's too much of it！ There is the rub。 Well；
well； it will be plain to you that my mind is affected； it might be
with less。 THE EBB TIDE and NORTHERN LIGHTS are a full meal for
any plain man。
I have written and ordered your last book； THE REAL THING； so be
sure and don't send it。 What else are you doing or thinking of
doing？ News I have none； and don't want any。 I have had to stop
all strong drink and all tobacco； and am now in a transition state
between the two； which seems to be near madness。 You never smoked；
I think； so you can never taste the joys of stopping it。 But at
least you have drunk； and you can enter perhaps into my annoyance
when I suddenly find a glass of claret or a brandy…and…water give
me a splitting headache the next morning。 No mistake about it；
drink anything； and there's your headache。 Tobacco just as bad for
me。 If I live through this breach of habit； I shall be a white…
livered puppy indeed。 Actually I am so made； or so twisted； that I
do not like to think of a life without the red wine on the table
and the tobacco with its lovely little coal of fire。 It doesn't
amuse me from a distance。 I may find it the Garden of Eden when I
go in； but I don't like the colour of the gate…posts。 Suppose
somebody said to you； you are to leave your home； and your books；
and your clubs； and go out and camp in mid…Africa； and command an
expedition； you would howl； and kick； and flee。 I think the same
of a life without wine and tobacco； and if this goes on； I've got
to go and do it； sir； in the living flesh！
I thought Bourget was a friend of yours？ And I thought the French
were a polite race？ He has taken my dedication with a stately
silence that has surprised me into apoplexy。 Did I go and dedicate
my book to the nasty alien； and the 'norrid Frenchman； and the
Bloody Furrineer？ Well； I wouldn't do it again； and unless his
case is susceptible of explanation； you might perhaps tell him so
over the walnuts and the wine； by way of speeding the gay hours。
Sincerely； I thought my dedication worth a letter。
If anything be worth anything here below！ Do you know the story of
the man who found a button in his hash； and called the waiter？
'What do you call that？' says he。 'Well；' said the waiter； 'what
d'you expect？ Expect to find a gold watch and chain？' Heavenly
apologue； is it not？ I expected （rather） to find a gold watch and
chain； I expected to be able to smoke to excess and drink to
comfort all the days of my life； and I am still indignantly staring
on this button！ It's not even a button； it's a teetotal badge！ …
Ever yours；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter： TO HENRY JAMES
APIA； JULY 1893。
MY DEAR HENRY JAMES； … Yes。 LES TROPHEES； on the whole； a book。
It is excellent； but is it a life's work？ I always suspect YOU of
a volume of sonnets up your sleeve； when is it coming down？ I am
in one of my moods of wholesale impatience with all fiction and all
verging on it； reading instead； with rapture； FOUNTAINHALL'S
DECISIONS。 You never read it： well； it hasn't much form； and is
inexpressibly dreary； I should suppose； to others … and even to me
for pages。 It's like walking in a mine underground； and with a
damned bad lantern； and picking out pieces of ore。 This； and war；
will be my excuse for not having read your （doubtless） charming
work of fiction。 The revolving year will bring me round to it； and
I know； when fiction shall begin to feel a little SOLID to me
again； that I shall love it； because it's James。 Do you know； when
I am in this mood； I would rather try to read a bad book？ It's not
so disappointing； anyway。 And FOUNTAINHALL is prime； two big folio
volumes； and all dreary； and all true； and all as terse as an
obituary； and about one interesting fact on an average in twenty
pages； and ten of them unintelligible for technicalities。 There's
literature； if you like！ It feeds； it falls about you genuine like
rain。 Rain： nobody has done justice to rain in literature yet：
surely a subject for a Scot。 But then you can't do rain in that
ledger…book style that I am trying for … or between a ledger…book
and an old ballad。 How to get over； how to escape from； the
besotting PARTICULARITY of fiction。 'Roland approached the house；
it had green doors and window blinds； and there was a scraper on
the upper step。' To hell with Roland and the scraper！ … Yours
ever；
R。 L。 S。
Letter： TO A。 CONAN DOYLE
VAILIMA； JULY 12； 1893。
MY DEAR DR。 CONAN DOYLE； … The WHITE COMPANY has not yet turned up；
but when it does … which I suppose will be next mail … you shall
hear news of me。 I have a great talent for compliment； accompanied
by a hateful； even a diabolic frankness。
Delighted to hear I have a chance of seeing you and Mrs。 Doyle；
Mrs。 Stevenson bids me say （what is too true） that our rations are
often spare。 Are you Great Eaters？ Please reply。
As to ways and means； here is what you will have to do。 Leave San
Francisco by the down mail； get off at Samoa； and twelve days or a
fortnight later； you can continue your journey to Auckland per
Upolu； which will give you a look at Tonga and possibly Fiji by the
way。 Make this a FIRST PART OF YOUR PLANS。 A fortnight； even of
Vailima diet； could kill nobody。
We are in the midst of war here； rather a nasty business； with the
head…taking； and there seem signs of other trouble。 But I believe
you need make no change in your design to visit us。 All should be
well over； and if it were not； why！ you need not leave the steamer。
… Yours very truly；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter： TO CHARLES BAXTER
19TH JULY '93。
。 。 。 We are in the thick of war … see ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS … we
have only two outside boys left to us。 Nothing is doing； and PER
CONTRA little paying。 。 。 My life here is dear； but I can live
within my income for a time at least … so long as my prices keep up
… and it seems a clear duty to waste none of it on gadding about。 。
。 。 My life of my family fills up intervals； and should be an
excellent book when it is done； but big； damnably big。
My dear old man； I perceive by a thousand signs that we grow old；
and are soon to pass away！ I hope with dignity； if not； with
courage at least。 I am myself very ready； or would be … will be …
when I have made a little money for my folks。 The blows that have
fallen upon you are truly terrifying； I wish you strength to bear
them。 It is strange； I must seem to you to blaze in a Birmingham
prosperity and happiness； and to myself I seem a failure。 The
truth is； I have never got over the last influenza yet； and am
miserably out of heart and out of kilter。 Lungs pretty right；
stomach nowhere； spirits a good deal overshadowed； but we'll come
through it yet； and cock our bonnets。 （I confess with sorrow that
I am not yet quite sure about the INTELLECTS； but I hope it is only
one of my usual periods of non…work。 They are more unbearable now；
because I cannot rest。 NO REST BUT THE GRAVE FOR SIR WALTER！ O
the words ring in a man's head。）
R。 L。 S。
Letter： TO A。 CONAN DOYLE
VAILIMA； AUGUST 23RD； 1893。
MY DEAR DR。 CONAN DOYLE； … I am reposing after a somewhat severe
experience upon which I think it my duty to report to you。
I