with a whole red-hot story
(in my worst manner), pouring words upon him by the hour about some
truck not worth an egg that had befallen me; and suddenly, some half
hour after, finding that the sweet fellow had some concern of his own of
infinitely greater import, that he was patiently and smilingly waiting
to consult me on. It sounds nothing; but the courtesy and the
unselfishness were perfect. It makes me rage to think how few knew him,
and how many had the chance to sneer at their better.

Well, he was not wasted, that we know; though if anything looked liker
irony than this fitting of a man out with these rich qualities and
faculties to be wrecked and aborted from the very stocks, I do not know
the name of it. Yet we see that he has left an influence; the memory of
his patient courtesy has often checked me in rudeness; has it not you?

You can form no idea of how handsome Walter was. At twenty he was
splendid to see; then, too, he had the sense of power in him, and great
hopes; he looked forward, ever jesting of course, but he looked to see
himself where he had the right to expect. He believed in himself
profoundly; but _he never disbelieved in others_. To the roughest
Highland student he always had his fine, kind, open dignity of manner;
and a good word behind his back.

The last time that I saw him before leaving for America--it was a sad
blow to both of us. When he heard I was leaving, and that might be the
last time we might meet--it almost was so--he was terribly upset, and
came round at once. We sat late, in Baxter's empty house, where I was
sleeping. My dear friend Walter Ferrier: O if I had only written to him
more! if only one of us in these last days had been well! But I ever
cherished the honour of his friendship, and now when he is gone, I know
what I have lost still better. We live on, meaning to meet; but when the
hope is gone, the pang comes.

R. L. S.

TO EDMUND GOSSE

_La Solitude, Hyeres, 26th September 1883._

MY DEAR GOSSE,--It appears a bolt from Transatlantica is necessary to
produce four lines from you. It is not flattering; but as I was always a
bad correspondent, 'tis a vice to which I am lenient. I give you to
know, however, that I have already twice (this makes three times) sent
you what I please to call a letter, and received from you in return a
subterfuge--or nothing....

My present purpose, however, which must not be postponed, is to ask you
to telegraph to t