he resolution to think of other things and bury myself in the
novels of M. de Boisgobey. Arrived at my destination, down I sat one
morning to the unfinished tale; and behold! it flowed from me like
small talk; and in a second tide of delighted industry, and again at a
rate of a chapter a day, I finished 'Treasure Island.' It had to be
transcribed almost exactly; my wife was ill; the schoolboy remained
alone of the faithful; and John Addington Symonds (to whom I timidly
mentioned what I was engaged on) looked on me askance. He was at that
time very eager I should write on the characters of Theophrastus: so
far out may be the judgments of the wisest men. But Symonds (to be sure)
was scarce the confidant to go to for sympathy on a boy's story. He was
large-minded; 'a full man,' if there was one; but the very name of my
enterprise would suggest to him only capitulations of sincerity and
solecisms of style. Well! he was not far wrong.

[Illustration: MRS. R. L. STEVENSON]

'Treasure Island'--it was Mr. Henderson who deleted the first title,
'The Sea Cook'--appeared duly in the story paper, where it figured in
the ignoble midst, without woodcuts, and attracted not the least
attention. I did not care. I liked the tale myself, for much the same
reason as my father liked the beginning: it was my kind of picturesque.
I was not a little proud of John Silver, also; and to this day rather
admire that smooth and formidable adventurer. What was infinitely more
exhilarating, I had passed a landmark; I had finished a tale, and
written 'The End' upon my manuscript, as I had not done since 'The
Pentland Rising,' when I was a boy of sixteen not yet at college. In
truth it was so by a set of lucky accidents: had not Dr. Japp come on
his visit, had not the tale flowed from me with singular ease, it must
have been laid aside like its predecessors, and found a circuitous and
unlamented way to the fire. Purists may suggest it would have been
better so. I am not of that mind. The tale seems to have given much
pleasure, and it brought (or was the means of bringing) fire and food
and wine to a deserving family in which I took an interest. I need
scarcely say I mean my own.

[Illustration: STEVENSON TELLING 'YARNS']

But the adventures of 'Treasure Island' are not yet quite at an end. I
had written it up to the map. The map was the chief part of my plot. For
instance, I had called an islet 'Skeleton Island,' not knowing what I
meant, seeking on