dicine bottle and the cupping
glass. Well, I like my life all the same; and should like it none the
worse if I could have another talk with you, though even my talks now
are measured out to me by the minute hand like poisons in a minim glass.

A photograph will be taken of my ugly mug and sent to you for ulterior
purposes: I have another thing coming out, which I did not put in the
way of the Scribners, I can scarce tell how; but I was sick and
penniless and rather back on the world, and mismanaged it. I trust they
will forgive me.

I am sorry to hear of Mrs. Low's illness, and glad to hear of her
recovery. I will announce the coming _Lamia_ to Bob: he steams away at
literature like smoke. I have a beautiful Bob on my walls, and a good
Sargent, and a delightful Lemon; and your etching now hangs framed in
the dining-room. So the arts surround me.--Yours,

R. L. S.

TO MRS. DE MATTOS

With this cousin the writer had always been on terms of close
affection, and he now dedicated to her _The Strange Case of Dr.
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. In the dedication as published only the second
verse stands.

_[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] January 1st, 1886._

DEAREST KATHARINE,--Here, on a very little book and accompanied with
lame verses, I have put your name. Our kindness is now getting well on
in years; it must be nearly of age; and it gets more valuable to me with
every time I see you. It is not possible to express any sentiment, and
it is not necessary to try, at least between us. You know very well that
I love you dearly, and that I always will. I only wish the verses were
better, but at least you like the story; and it is sent to you by the
one that loves you--Jekyll, and not Hyde.

_R. L. S._

_Ave!_

Bells upon the city are ringing in the night;
High above the gardens are the houses full of light;
On the heathy Pentlands is the curlew flying free;
And the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie.

We cannae break the bonds that God decreed to bind,
Still we'll be the children of the heather and the wind;
Far away from home, O, it's still for you and me
That the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie.

R. L. S.

TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM

_[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] Jan. 1st, 1886._

MY DEAR KINNICUM,[14]--I am a very bad dog, but not for the first time.
Your book, which is very interesting, came duly; and I immediately got
a very bad col