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there is one piece for instance that I want in … I cannot put
it one place for a good reason … I cannot put it another for
a better … and every time I look at it； I turn sick and put
the Ms。 away。
Well； your letter hasn't come； and a number of others are
missing。 It looks as if a mail…bag had gone on； so I'll
blame nobody； and proceed to business。
It looks as if I was going to send you the first three
chapters of my Grandfather。 。 。 。 If they were set up； it
would be that much anxiety off my mind。 I have a strange
feeling of responsibility； as if I had my ancestors' SOULS in
my charge； and might miscarry with them。
There's a lot of work gone into it； and a lot more is needed。
Still Chapter I。 seems about right to me； and much of Chapter
II。 Chapter III。 I know nothing of； as I told you。 And
Chapter IV。 is at present all ends and beginnings； but it can
be pulled together。
This is all I have been able to screw up to you for this
month； and I may add that it is not only more than you
deserve； but just about more than I was equal to。 I have
been and am entirely useless； just able to tinker at my
Grandfather。 The three chapters … perhaps also a little of
the fourth … will come home to you next mail by the hand of
my cousin Graham Balfour； a very nice fellow whom I recommend
to you warmly … and whom I think you will like。 This will
give you time to consider my various and distracted schemes。
All our wars are over in the meantime； to begin again as soon
as the war…ships leave。 Adieu。
R。 L。 S。
CHAPTER XXXIII
23RD AUGUST。
MY DEAR COLVIN； … Your pleasing letter RE THE EBB TIDE； to
hand。 I propose； if it be not too late； to delete Lloyd's
name。 He has nothing to do with the last half。 The first we
wrote together； as the beginning of a long yarn。 The second
is entirely mine； and I think it rather unfair on the young
man to couple his name with so infamous a work。 Above all；
as you had not read the two last chapters； which seem to me
the most ugly and cynical of all。
You will see that I am not in a good humour； and I am not。
It is not because of your letter； but because of the
complicated miseries that surround me and that I choose to
say nothing of。 Life is not all Beer and Skittles。 The
inherent tragedy of things works itself out from white to
black and blacker； and the poor things of a day look ruefully
on。 Does it shake my cast…iron faith？ I cannot say it does。
I believe in an ultimate decency of things； ay； and if I woke
in hell； should still believe it！ But it is hard walking；
and I can see my own share in the missteps； and can bow my
head to the result； like an old； stern； unhappy devil of a
Norseman； as my ultimate character is。 。 。 。
Well； IL FAUT CULTIVER SON JARDIN。 That last expression of
poor； unhappy human wisdom I take to my heart and go to ST。
IVES。
24th AUG。
And did； and worked about 2 hours and got to sleep ultimately
and 'a' the clouds has blawn away。' 'Be sure we'll have some
pleisand weather； When a' the clouds （storms？） has blawn
（gone？） away。' Verses that have a quite inexplicable
attraction for me； and I believe had for Burns。 They have no
merit； but are somehow good。 I am now in a most excellent
humour。
I am deep in ST。 IVES which； I believe； will be the next
novel done。 But it is to be clearly understood that I
promise nothing； and may throw in your face the very last
thing you expect … or I expect。 ST。 IVES will （to my mind）
not be wholly bad。 It is written in rather a funny style； a
little stilted and left…handed； the style of St。 Ives； also；
to some extent； the style of R。 L。 S。 dictating。 ST。 IVES
is unintellectual and except as an adventure novel； dull。
But the adventures seem to me sound and pretty probable； and
it is a love story。 Speed his wings！
SUNDAY NIGHT。
DE COEUR UN PEU PLUS DISPOS； MONSIEUR ET CHER CONFRERE； JE ME
REMETS A VOUS ECRIRE。 ST。 IVES is now in the 5th chapter
copying； in the 14th chapter of the dictated draft。 I do not
believe I shall end by disliking it。
MONDAY。
Well； here goes again for the news。 Fanny is VERY WELL
indeed； and in good spirits； I am in good spirits but not
VERY well； Lloyd is in good spirits and very well； Belle has
a real good fever which has put her pipe out wholly。 Graham
goes back this mail。 He takes with him three chapters of THE
FAMILY； and is to go to you as soon as he can。 He cannot be
much the master of his movements； but you grip him when you
can and get all you can from him； as he has lived about six
months with us and he can tell you just what is true and what
is not … and not the dreams of dear old Ross。 He is a good
fellow； is he not？
Since you rather revise your views of THE EBB TIDE； I think
Lloyd's name might stick； but I'll leave it to you。 I'll
tell you just how it stands。 Up to the discovery of the
champagne； the tale was all planned between us and drafted by
Lloyd； from that moment he has had nothing to do with it
except talking it over。 For we changed our plan； gave up the
projected Monte Cristo； and cut it down for a short story。
My jmpression … （I beg your pardon … this is a local joke … a
firm here had on its beer labels； 'sole jmporters'） … is that
it will never be popular； but might make a little SUCCES DE
SCANDALE。 However； I'm done with it now； and not sorry； and
the crowd may rave and mumble its bones for what I care。
Hole essential。 I am sorry about the maps； but I want 'em
for next edition； so see and have proofs sent。 You are quite
right about the bottle and the great Huish； I must try to
make it clear。 No； I will not write a play for Irving nor
for the devil。 Can you not see that the work of
FALSIFICATION which a play demands is of all tasks the most
ungrateful？ And I have done it a long while … and nothing
ever came of it。
Consider my new proposal； I mean Honolulu。 You would get the
Atlantic and the Rocky Mountains； would you not？ for bracing。
And so much less sea！ And then you could actually see
Vailima； which I WOULD like you to； for it's beautiful and my
home and tomb that is to be； though it's a wrench not to be
planted in Scotland … that I can never deny … if I could only
be buried in the hills； under the heather and a table
tombstone like the martyrs； where the whaups and plovers are
crying！ Did you see a man who wrote the STICKIT MINISTER；
and dedicated it to me； in words that brought the tears to my
eyes every time I looked at them； 'Where about the graves of
the martyrs the whaups are crying。 HIS heart remembers how。'
Ah； by God； it does！ Singular that I should fulfil the Scots
destiny throughout； and live a voluntary exile； and have my
head filled with the blessed； beastly place all t