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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。
Immediately after dinner this evening it occurred to me to re…
narrate to my native overseer Simele your story of THE ENGINEER'S
THUMB。 And； sir； I have done it。 It was necessary； I need hardly
say； to go somewhat farther afield than you have done。 To explain
（for instance） what a railway is； what a steam hammer； what a coach
and horse； what coining； what a criminal； and what the police。 I
pass over other and no less necessary explanations。 But I did
actually succeed； and if you could have seen the drawn； anxious
features and the bright； feverish eyes of Simele； you would have
（for the moment at least） tasted glory。 You might perhaps think
that； were you to come to Samoa； you might be introduced as the
Author of THE ENGINEER'S THUMB。 Disabuse yourself。 They do not
know what it is to make up a story。 THE ENGINEER'S THUMB （God
forgive me） was narrated as a piece of actual and factual history。
Nay； and more； I who write to you have had