's own early
experience in a diver's dress.

Without collaboration Mr Stevenson wrote the three pretty little tales
of South Sea life reprinted, as _Island Nights' Entertainments_, in book
form about 1893. _The Beach of Falesa_ was published in _The Illustrated
London News_ from July 2nd to August 6th, 1892. _The Bottle Imp_
appeared in _Black and White_ from March 28th to April 4th, 1891, and
_The Isle of Voices_ was in _The National Observer_ between 4th and 25th
February of 1893.

They are charming stories, rich in local colour, and in all of them one
sees that Mr Stevenson's quick eye for the essential in life has shown
to him that among these simple islanders are to be found just the same
elements of romance as among more highly civilised peoples, the same
motives make and influence character there as elsewhere. So in
Wiltshire and his relations with the islanders, in the curious stories
of _The Bottle Imp_ and _The Isle of Voices_, we are interested in a new
set of people in fresh surroundings, and can in a large measure
sympathise with the pleasure that the Samoans had in reading these tales
of island life in their own tongue. _The Bottle Imp_ was the first story
ever read by the Samoans in their native language, and it raised their
affection for 'Tusitala, the Teller of Stories' to positive enthusiasm.

_St Ives_ is a bright story of adventure which Mr Stevenson had almost
completed, and which Mr Quiller Couch was enabled very skilfully to
finish with the assistance of the author's step-daughter, Mrs Strong,
who had, besides being its amanuensis, helped Mr Stevenson with this
story and been much in his confidence regarding it. It appeared first in
_The Windsor Magazine_ where it was received with favour. It is the
history of a French prisoner in Edinburgh Castle during the wars of the
great Napoleon. He makes, like the other prisoners, little carved
ornaments for sale, and Flora, the heroine, has so touched him while
buying these that he falls in love with her and presents her with a
carved lion. She returns his sentiment of admiration, and after his
escape she and her brother, a natural gentlemanly lad, hide Mr St Ives
in the henhouse at Swanston Cottage where they live with a stern old
aunt. The aunt is a well-drawn type of old-fashioned Scotchwoman,
infinitely more natural and more interesting than the niece. In
Edinburgh and round Mr Stevenson's own country home Swanston, the
interest at first largely cen