nce during a painful crisis of his life, "is now reading my book aloud
to her sister at my elbow; they chuckle, and I feel flattered.--Yours,
R. L. S. _P.S._--Now they yawn, and I am indifferent. Such a wisely
conceived thing is vanity." If only vanity so conceived were commoner!
And whatever might be the abstract and philosophical value of that
somewhat grimly stoical conception of the universe, of conduct and duty,
at which in mature years he had arrived, want of manliness is certainly
not its fault. Take the kind of maxims which he was accustomed to forge
for his own guidance:--"Acts may be forgiven; not even God can forgive
the hanger-back." "Choose the best, if you can; or choose the worst;
that which hangs in the wind dangles from a gibbet." "'Shall I?' said
Feeble-mind; and the echo said, 'Fie!'" "'Do I love?' said Loveless; and
the echo laughed." "A fault known is a fault cured to the strong; but to
the weak it is a fetter riveted." "The mean man doubts, the
great-hearted is deceived." "Great-heart was deceived. 'Very well,' said
Great-heart." "'I have not forgotten my umbrella,' said the careful man;
but the lightning struck him." "Shame had a fine bed, but where was
slumber? Once he was in jail he slept." With this moralist maxims meant
actions; and where shall we easily find a much manlier spirit of wisdom
than this?

There was yet another and very different side to Stevenson which struck
others more than it struck myself, namely, that of the freakish or
elvish, irresponsible madcap or jester which sometimes appeared in him.
It is true that his demoniac quickness of wit and intelligence suggested
occasionally a "spirit of air and fire" rather than one of earth; that
he was abundantly given to all kinds of quirk and laughter; and that
there was no jest (saving the unkind) he would not make and relish. The
late Mr. J. A. Symonds always called him Sprite; qualifying the name,
however, by the epithets "most fantastic, but most human." To me the
essential humanity was always the thing most apparent. In a fire well
nourished of seasoned ship-timber, the flames glance fantastically and
of many colours, but the glow at heart is ever deep and strong; it was
at such a glow that the friends of Stevenson were accustomed to warm
their hands, while they admired and were entertained by the shifting
lights.

It was only in company, as I have said, that all these many lights and
colours could be seen in full play. He would b