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are a man of letters； you have never been made C。B。； your hair was
not red； you have played cribbage and whist； you did not play
either the fiddle or the banjo； you were never an aesthete； you
never contributed to …'S JOURNAL； your name is not Jabez Balfour；
you are totally unconnected with the Army and Navy departments； I
understand you to have lived within your income … why； cheer up！
here are many legitimate causes of congratulation。 I seem to be
writing an obituary notice。 ABSIT OMEN！ But I feel very sure that
these considerations will have done you more good than medicine。
By the by； did you ever play piquet？ I have fallen a victim to
this debilitating game。 It is supposed to be scientific； God save
the mark； what self…deceivers men are！ It is distinctly less so
than cribbage。 But how fascinating！ There is such material
opulence about it； such vast ambitions may be realised … and are
not； it may be called the Monte Cristo of games。 And the thrill
with which you take five cards partakes of the nature of lust … and
you draw four sevens and a nine； and the seven and nine of a suit
that you discarded； and O！ but the world is a desert！ You may see
traces of discouragement in my letter： all due to piquet！ There
has been a disastrous turn of the luck against me； a month or two
ago I was two thousand ahead； now； and for a week back； I have been
anything from four thousand eight hundred to five thousand two
hundred astern。 If I have a sixieme； my beast of a partner has a
septieme； and if I have three aces； three kings； three queens； and
three knaves （excuse the slight exaggeration）； the devil holds
quatorze of tens！ … I remain； my dear James Payn； your sincere and
obliged friend … old friend let me say；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter： TO MISS MIDDLETON
VAILIMA； SAMOA； SEPTEMBER 9； 1894。
DEAR MISS MIDDLETON； … Your letter has been like the drawing up of
a curtain。 Of course I remember you very well； and the Skye
terrier to which you refer … a heavy； dull； fatted； graceless
creature he grew up to be … was my own particular pet。 It may
amuse you； perhaps； as much as 'The Inn' amused me； if I tell you
what made this dog particularly mine。 My father was the natural
god of all the dogs in our house； and poor Jura took to him of
course。 Jura was stolen； and kept in prison somewhere for more
than a week； as I remember。 When he came back Smeoroch had come
and taken my father's heart from him。 He took his stand like a
man； and positively never spoke to my father again from that day
until the day of his death。 It was the only sign of character he
ever showed。 I took him up to my room and to be my dog in
consequence； partly because I was sorry for him； and partly because
I admired his dignity in misfortune。
With best regards and thanks for having reminded me of so many
pleasant days； old acquaintances； dead friends； and … what is
perhaps as pathetic as any of them … dead dogs； I remain； yours
truly；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter： TO A。 CONAN DOYLE
VAILIMA； SAMOA； SEPTEMBER 9； 1894。
MY DEAR CONAN DOYLE； … If you found anything to entertain you in my
TREASURE ISLAND article； it may amuse you to know that you owe it
entirely to yourself。 YOUR 'First Book' was by some accident read
aloud one night in my Baronial 'All。 I was consumedly amused by
it； so was the whole family； and we proceeded to hunt up back
IDLERS and read the whole series。 It is a rattling good series；
even people whom you would not expect came in quite the proper tone
… Miss Braddon； for instance； who was really one of the best where
all are good … or all but one！ 。。。 In short； I fell in love with
'The First Book' series； and determined that it should be all our
first books； and that I could not hold back where the white plume
of Conan Doyle waved gallantly in the front。 I hope they will
republish them； though it's a grievous thought to me that that
effigy in the German cap … likewise the other effigy of the noisome
old man with the long hair； telling indelicate stories to a couple
of deformed negresses in a rancid shanty full of wreckage … should
be perpetuated。 I may seem to speak in pleasantry … it is only a
seeming … that German cap； sir； would be found； when I come to die；
imprinted on my heart。 Enough … my heart is too full。 Adieu。 …
Yours very truly；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
（in a German cap； damn 'em！）
Letter： TO CHARLES BAXTER
＇VAILIMA； SEPTEMBER 1894。＇
MY DEAR CHARLES； … 。 。 。 Well； there is no more Edmund Baxter now；
and I think I may say I know how you feel。 He was one of the best；
the kindest； and the most genial men I ever knew。 I shall always
remember his brisk； cordial ways and the essential goodness which
he showed me whenever we met with gratitude。 And the always is
such a little while now！ He is another of the landmarks gone； when
it comes to my own turn to lay my weapons down； I shall do so with
thankfulness and fatigue； and whatever be my destiny afterward； I
shall be glad to lie down with my fathers in honour。 It is human
at least； if not divine。 And these deaths make me think of it with
an ever greater readiness。 Strange that you should be beginning a
new life； when I； who am a little your junior； am thinking of the
end of mine。 But I have had hard lines； I have been so long
waiting for death； I have unwrapped my thoughts from about life so
long； that I have not a filament left to hold by； I have done my
fiddling so long under Vesuvius； that I have almost forgotten to
play； and can only wait for the eruption； and think it long of
coming。 Literally； no man has more wholly outlived life than I。
And still it's good fun。
R。 L。 S。
Letter： TO R。 A。 M。 STEVENSON
＇VAILIMA； SEPTEMBER 1894。＇
DEAR BOB； … You are in error about the Picts。 They were a Gaelic
race； spoke a Celtic tongue； and we have no evidence that I know of
that they were blacker than other Celts。 The Balfours； I take it；
were plainly Celts； their name shows it … the 'cold croft；' it
means； so does their country。 Where the BLACK Scotch come from
nobody knows； but I recognise with you the fact that the whole of
Britain is rapidly and progressively becoming more pigmented；
already in one man's life I can decidedly trace a difference in the
children about a school door。 But colour is not an essential part
of a man or a race。 Take my Polynesians； an Asiatic people
probably from the neighbourhood of the Persian gulf。 They range
through any amount of shades； from the burnt hue of the Low
Archipelago islander； which seems half negro； to the 'bleached'
pretty women of the Marquesas （close by on the map）； who come out
for a festival no darker than an Italian； their colour seems to
vary directly with the