Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson Vol 2 | Page 3

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The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson, Volume II Scanned and
proofed by David Price [email protected]

The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson, Volume II
CHAPTER VIII
- LIFE AT BOURNEMOUTH, CONTINUED, JANUARY
1886-JULY 1887

Letter: TO MRS. DE MATTOS

[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], JANUARY 1ST, 1886.
DEAREST KATHARINE, - Here, on a very little book and
accompanied with lame verses, I have put your name. Our kindness is
now getting well on in years; it must be nearly of age; and it gets more

valuable to me with every time I see you. It is not possible to express
any sentiment, and it is not necessary to try, at least between us. You
know very well that I love you dearly, and that I always will. I only
wish the verses were better, but at least you like the story; and it is sent
to you by the one that loves you - Jekyll, and not Hyde.
R. L. S.
AVE!
Bells upon the city are ringing in the night; High above the gardens are
the houses full of light; On the heathy Pentlands is the curlew flying
free; And the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie.
We cannae break the bonds that God decreed to bind, Still we'll be the
children of the heather and the wind; Far away from home, O, it's still
for you and me That the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie!
R. L. S.

Letter: TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM

[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], 1ST, 1886.
MY DEAR KINNICUM, - I am a very bad dog, but not for the first
time. Your book, which is very interesting, came duly; and I
immediately got a very bad cold indeed, and have been fit for nothing
whatever. I am a bit better now, and aye on the mend; so I write to tell
you, I thought of you on New Year's Day; though, I own, it would have
been more decent if I had thought in time for you to get my letter then.
Well, what can't be cured must be endured, Mr. Lawrie; and you must
be content with what I give. If I wrote all the letters I ought to write,
and at the proper time, I should be very good and very happy; but I
doubt if I should do anything else.

I suppose you will be in town for the New Year; and I hope your health
is pretty good. What you want is diet; but it is as much use to tell you
that as it is to tell my father. And I quite admit a diet is a beastly thing.
I doubt, however, if it be as bad as not being allowed to speak, which I
have tried fully, and do not like. When, at the same time, I was not
allowed to read, it passed a joke. But these are troubles of the past, and
on this day, at least, it is proper to suppose they won't return. But we
are not put here to enjoy ourselves: it was not God's purpose; and I am
prepared to argue, it is not our sincere wish. As for our deserts, the less
said of them the better, for somebody might hear, and nobody cares to
be laughed at. A good man is a very noble thing to see, but not to
himself; what he seems to God is, fortunately, not our business; that is
the domain of faith; and whether on the first of January or the
thirty-first of December, faith is a good word to end on.
My dear Cummy, many happy returns to you and my best love. - The
worst correspondent in the world,
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

Letter: TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON

[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], JANUARY 1ST, 1886.
MY DEAR PEOPLE, - Many happy returns of the day to you all; I am
fairly well and in good spirits; and much and hopefully occupied with
dear Jenkin's life. The inquiry in every detail, every letter that I read,
makes me think of him more nobly. I cannot imagine how I got his
friendship; I