grew frailer, but the buoyant
intellect never failed him, or if it did so the failure was momentary,
and in a moment he was recovered.

No little of his popularity is due to the desperate valour with which he
contested the ground with death, inch by inch, and died, as Buckle and
John Richard Green had done, in the midst of the work that he would not
quit. Romance was by him to the last, gladdening his tired body with her
presence; and if towards the end weariness and heart-sickness seized him
for a spell, yet the mind soon resumed its mastery over weakness. In a
prayer which he had written shortly before his death he had petitioned:
"Give us to awake with smiles, give us to labour smiling; as the sun
lightens the world, so let our lovingkindness make bright this house of
our habitation." Assuredly in his case this characteristic petition had
been realized; the prevalent sunniness of his disposition attended him to
the last.

IV

Of all our writers there has been none to whom the epithet "charming" has
been more frequently applied. Of late the epithet has become a kind of
adjectival maid-of-all-work, and has done service where a less emphatic
term would have done far better. But in Stevenson's case the epithet is
fully justified. Of all the literary Vagabonds he is the most
captivating. Not the most interesting; the most arresting, one may
admit. There is greater power in Hazlitt; De Quincey is more unique; the
"prophetic scream" of Whitman is more penetrating. But not one of them
was endowed with such wayward graces of disposition as Stevenson.
Whatever you read of his you think invariably of the man. Indeed the
personal note in his work is frequently the most interesting thing about
it. I mean that what attracts and holds us is often not any originality,
any profundity, nothing specially inherent in the matter of his speech,
but a bewitchingly delightful manner.

Examine his attractive essays, _Virginibus Puerisque_ and _Familiar
Studies of Men and Books_, and this quality will manifest itself. There
is no pleasanter essay than the one on "Walking Tours"; it dresses up
wholesome truths with so pleasant and picturesque a wit; it is so
whimsical, yet withal so finely suggestive, that the reader who cannot
yield to its fascination should consult a mental specialist.

For instance:--

"It must not be imagined that a walking tour, as some would have us
fancy, is merely a better or worse way