ss on his
journeying are finding him good company. _Talofa, Tusitala_; do not go
very far away! We too would follow you down the "Road of Loving Hearts."

S. R. CROCKETT.

[Illustration:

THE PENTLAND RISING
A PAGE OF HISTORY
1666

'A cloud of witnesses ly here,
Who for Christ's interest did appear.'
_Inscription on Battle-field at Rullion Green._

EDINBURGH
ANDREW ELLIOT, 17 PRINCES STREET
1866]

A STEVENSON SHRINE

_By Emily Soldene_

In 1896 I strolled down Market Street, San Francisco, looking into the
curio- and other shops under the Palace Hotel, when my attention was
attracted by a crowd of people round one particular shop-window. Now, a
crowd in San Francisco (except on political occasions) is an uncommon
sight. Naturally, with the curiosity of my sex and the perseverance of the
Anglo-Saxon, I took my place in the surging mass and patiently waited till
the course of events, and the shoulders of my surroundings, brought me up
close to the point of vantage. What came they out for to see? It was a
bookseller's window. In the window was a shrine. "The Works and Portraits
of Robert Louis Stevenson," proclaimed a placard all illuminated and
embossed with red and purple and green and gold. In the centre of the
display was an odd-looking document. This, then, was the loadstone--a
letter of Stevenson's, in Stevenson's own handwriting. Many people stood
and read, then turned away, sad and sorrowful-looking. "Poor fellow!" said
one woman. "But he's all right now. I guess he's got more than he asked
for." I stood, too, and read. Before I had finished, my eyes, unknowingly,
were full of tears. This is the document. When you have read, you will not
wonder at the tears.

"I think now, this 5th or 6th of April, 1873, that I can see my future
life. I think it will run stiller and stiller year by year, a very quiet,
desultorily studious existence. If God only gives me tolerable health, I
think now I shall be very happy: work and science calm the mind, and stop
gnawing in the brain; and as I am glad to say that I do now recognise that
I shall never be a great man, I may set myself peacefully on a smaller
journey, not without hope of coming to the inn before nightfall.

_O dass mein leben
Nach diesem ziel ein ewig wandeln sey!_"

I walked on a block or so, and, after a few minutes, when I thought my
voice was steady and under control, tu