ed, but he had already lost consciousness,
and, in spite of every effort, he never regained it. His mother's
letters written after his death touchingly describe how, although called
at once, she yet reached the hall too late to find him conscious, as by
that time he was leaning back in his chair breathing heavily. The
family, with an agony of grief, quickly realised that there was no hope.

A little bed was brought, and he was placed on it in the middle of the
hall, and there, with those he loved close about him, and his faithful
Samoan servants seated round him on the floor, he quietly passed away.
The deep breaths came at ever longer intervals, the sleep of
unconsciousness was never broken, and as his loved and valued friend,
the Reverend Mr Clark, prayed beside him, his spirit took its flight
into eternity. He died as he had wished, quickly and well-nigh
painlessly. He had known so much of lingering illness, he dreaded _that_
greatly, but of death he had no fear, and peacefully and suddenly he
passed into the Unseen.

His death took place at a little past eight o'clock on the evening of
the 3rd December at the early age of forty-four.

When the news was cabled to England, it was received by many people with
grave doubts. His relatives and friends dreaded its truth, but could not
at first believe it. Many exaggerated newspaper reports, copied
especially from the more sensational American press, had from time to
time caused needless distress and anxiety to those who loved him, so
that it was possible to allow oneself the shadow of a hope, particularly
as his uncle, Dr George W. Balfour, who had at first received the news
somewhat vaguely worded, doubted it also, and wrote to the _Scotsman_
expressing his unbelief.

Too soon, unfortunately, all such hopes were proved false, and eager
eyes scanning the morning papers on the 23d December 1894 read this sad
corroboration of the news that had been posted in London on the 17th of
the same month.

'SAN FRANCISCO (no date).
BALFOUR, 17 Walker Street, Edinburgh.
LOUIS died suddenly third. Tell friends.
STEVENSON.'

The telegram was from his mother in answer to one from his uncle asking
for true particulars as to the earlier report, and on its receipt and
publication relatives and friends knew that hope was dead, and there
remained only a sad waiting for further particulars. These by-and-bye
came in