s, and form, which, from
the immemorial habit of the race, we pass over with an unregardful eye.
Hence this crouching upon camp-stools, and these crusts.[6] But neither
one nor other is a part of art, only preliminary studies.

I want you to help me to get people to understand that realism is a
method, and only methodic in its consequences; when the realist is an
artist, that is, and supposing the idealist with whom you compare him to
be anything but a _farceur_ and a _dilettante_. The two schools of
working do, and should, lead to the choice of different subjects. But
that is a consequence, not a cause. See my chaotic note, which will
appear, I fancy, in November in Henley's sheet.

Poor Ferrier, it bust me horrid. He was, after you, the oldest of my
friends.

I am now very tired, and will go to bed having prelected freely. Fanny
will finish.

R. L. S.

TO THOMAS STEVENSON

Some pages of MS. exist in which the writer at this time attempted to
re-cast and expand a portion of the _Lay Morals_ of 1879. A letter
written some days earlier to his father, and partly quoted in Mr.
Graham Balfour's _Life_ (ed. 1906, p. 209), explains his purpose.

_La Solitude, Hyeres, 12th October 1883._

MY DEAR FATHER,--I have just lunched; the day is exquisite, the air
comes through the open window rich with odour, and I am by no means
spiritually minded. Your letter, however, was very much valued, and has
been read oftener than once. What you say about yourself I was glad to
hear; a little decent resignation is not only becoming a Christian, but
is likely to be excellent for the health of a Stevenson. To fret and
fume is undignified, suicidally foolish, and theologically unpardonable;
we are here not to make, but to tread predestined, pathways; we are the
foam of a wave, and to preserve a proper equanimity is not merely the
first part of submission to God, but the chief of possible kindnesses to
those about us. I am lecturing myself, but you also. To do our best is
one part, but to wash our hands smilingly of the consequence is the next
part, of any sensible virtue.

I have come, for the moment, to a pause in my moral works; for I have
many irons in the fire, and I wish to finish something to bring coin
before I can afford to go on with what I think doubtfully to be a duty.
It is a most difficult work; a touch of the parson will drive off those
I hope to influence; a touch of overstrained laxity, be