range, pathetic story of our savages, and,
besides, his style is not very perspicuous to childhood. Gad, I think
I'll have a flutter. Buridan's Ass! Whither to go, what to attack. Must
go to other letters; shall add to this, if I have time.

TO W. CRAIBE ANGUS

_Vailima, Samoa, November 1891._

MY DEAR MR. ANGUS,--Herewith the invaluable sheets. They came months
after your letter, and I trembled; but here they are, and I have
scrawled my vile name on them, and "thocht shame" as I did it. I am
expecting the sheets of your catalogue, so that I may attack the
preface. Please give me all the time you can. The sooner the better; you
might even send me early proofs as they are sent out, to give me more
incubation. I used to write as slow as judgment; now I write rather
fast; but I am still "a slow study," and sit a long while silent on my
eggs. Unconscious thought, there is the only method: macerate your
subject, let it boil slow, then take the lid off and look in--and there
your stuff is, good or bad. But the journalist's method is the way to
manufacture lies; it is will-worship--if you know the luminous quaker
phrase; and the will is only to be brought in the field for study and
again for revision. The essential part of work is not an act, it is a
state.

I do not know why I write you this trash.

Many thanks for your handsome dedication. I have not yet had time to do
more than glance at Mrs. Begg; it looks interesting.--Yours very truly,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO MISS ANNIE H. IDE

_Vailima, Samoa [November 1891]._

MY DEAR LOUISA,--Your picture of the church, the photograph of yourself
and your sister, and your very witty and pleasing letter, came all in a
bundle, and made me feel I had my money's worth for that birthday. I am
now, I must be, one of your nearest relatives; exactly what we are to
each other, I do not know, I doubt if the case has ever happened
before--your papa ought to know, and I don't believe he does; but I
think I ought to call you in the meanwhile, and until we get the advice
of counsel learned in the law, my name-daughter. Well, I was extremely
pleased to see by the church that my name-daughter could draw; by the
letter, that she was no fool; and by the photograph, that she was a
pretty girl, which hurts nothing. See how virtues are rewarded! My first
idea of adopting you was entirely charitable; and here I find that I am
quite proud of it, and of you, and