hem in a way that
exasperates the reader.

[Illustration: ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON--THE AUTHOR'S INTIMATE
ASSOCIATES PRONOUNCE THIS PHOTOGRAPH A PERFECT PRESENTATION OF HIS
MOST TYPICAL EXPRESSION]

Some months Stevenson spent in California, but this State, with its
romantic history and its singular scenic beauty, appeared to have
little influence on his genius. In fact, locality seemed not to color
the work of his imagination. His closing years were spent in Somoa, a
South Sea Island paradise, in which he reveled in the primitive
conditions of life and recovered much of his early zest in physical
life. Yet his best work in those last years dealt not with the
palm-fringed atolls of the Pacific, but with the bleak Scotch moors
which refused him a home. In his letters he dwells on the curious
obsession of his imagination by old Scotch scenes and characters, and
on the day of his death he dictated a chapter of _Weir of Hermiston_,
a romance of the picturesque period of Scotland which had in it the
elements of his best work.

It is idle to deny that Stevenson appeals only to a limited audience.
Despite his keen interest in all kinds of people, he lacked that
sympathetic touch which brings large sales and wide circulation. About
the time of his death his admirers declared he would supersede Scott
or Dickens; but the seventeen years since his death have seen many
changes in literary reputations. Stevenson has held his own remarkably
well. As a man the interest in him is still keen, but of his works
only a few are widely read.

Among these the first place must be given to _Dr. Jekyll and Mr.
Hyde_, partly because of the profound impression made upon the public
mind by the dramatization of this tale, and partly because it appeals
strongly to the sense of the mystery of conflicting personality. Next
to this is _Treasure Island_, one of the best romances of adventure
ever written. Readers who cannot feel a thrill of genuine terror when
the blind pirate Pew comes tapping with his cane have missed a great
pleasure. One-legged John Silver, in his cheerful lack of all the
ordinary virtues, is a character that puts the fear of death upon the
reader. The opening chapter of this story is one of the finest things
in all the literature of adventure.

Of Stevenson's other work the two Scotch stories, _Kidnaped_ and
_David Balfour_, always seemed to me to be among his best. The
chapter on the flight of David and Allan across the