he Americans.

After a summer of good health of a very radiant order, toothache and the
death of a very old friend, which came upon me like a thunderclap, have
rather shelved my powers. I stare upon the paper, not write. I wish I
could write like your Sculptors; yet I am well aware that I should not
try in that direction. A certain warmth (tepid enough) and a certain
dash of the picturesque are my poor essential qualities; and if I went
fooling after the too classical, I might lose even these. But I envied
you that page.

I am, of course, deep in schemes; I was so ever. Execution alone
somewhat halts. How much do you make per annum, I wonder? This year, for
the first time, I shall pass L300; I may even get halfway to the next
milestone. This seems but a faint remuneration; and the devil of it is,
that I manage, with sickness, and moves, and education, and the like, to
keep steadily in front of my income. However, I console myself with
this, that if I were anything else under God's Heaven, and had the same
crank health, I should make an even zero. If I had, with my present
knowledge, twelve months of my old health, I would, could, and should do
something neat. As it is, I have to tinker at my things in little
sittings; and the rent, or the butcher, or something, is always calling
me off to rattle up a pot-boiler. And then comes a back-set of my
health, and I have to twiddle my fingers and play patience.

Well, I do not complain, but I do envy strong health where it is
squandered. Treasure your strength, and may you never learn by
experience the profound _ennui_ and irritation of the shelved artist.
For then, what is life? All that one has done to make one's life
effective then doubles the itch of inefficiency.

I trust also you may be long without finding out the devil that there is
in a bereavement. After love it is the one great surprise that life
preserves for us. Now I don't think I can be astonished any more.--Yours
affectionately,

R. L. S.

TO MISS FERRIER

_La Solitude, Hyeres, 30th Sept. 1883._

MY DEAR MISS FERRIER,--I am very much obliged to you for your letter and
was interested by all you told me. Yes, I know it is better for him to
be gone, and what you say helps me to realise that it is so--I did not
know how much he had suffered; it is so that we are cured of life. I am
a little afraid to write or think much of Walter just yet; as I have not
quite recovered the news and I have