d indeed, and have been fit for nothing whatever. I am a
bit better now, and aye on the mend; so I write to tell you, I thought
of you on New Year's Day; though, I own, it would have been more decent
if I had thought in time for you to get my letter then. Well, what can't
be cured must be endured, Mr. Lawrie; and you must be content with what
I give. If I wrote all the letters I ought to write, and at the proper
time, I should be very good and very happy; but I doubt if I should do
anything else.

I suppose you will be in town for the New Year; and I hope your health
is pretty good. What you want is diet; but it is as much use to tell you
that as it is to tell my father. And I quite admit a diet is a beastly
thing. I doubt, however, if it be as bad as not being allowed to speak,
which I have tried fully, and do not like. When, at the same time, I was
not allowed to read, it passed a joke. But these are troubles of the
past, and on this day, at least, it is proper to suppose they won't
return. But we are not put here to enjoy ourselves: it was not God's
purpose; and I am prepared to argue, it is not our sincere wish. As for
our deserts, the less said of them the better, for somebody might hear,
and nobody cares to be laughed at. A good man is a very noble thing to
see, but not to himself; what he seems to God is, fortunately, not our
business; that is the domain of faith; and whether on the first of
January or the thirty-first of December, faith is a good word to end on.

My dear Cummy, many happy returns to you and my best love.--The worst
correspondent in the world,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON

[_Skerryvore, Bournemouth_] _January 1st, 1886_.

MY DEAR PEOPLE,--Many happy returns of the day to you all; I am fairly
well and in good spirits; and much and hopefully occupied with dear
Jenkin's life. The inquiry in every detail, every letter that I read,
makes me think of him more nobly. I cannot imagine how I got his
friendship; I did not deserve it. I believe the notice will be
interesting and useful.

My father's last letter, owing to the use of a quill pen and the neglect
of blotting-paper, was hopelessly illegible. Every one tried, and every
one failed to decipher an important word on which the interest of one
whole clause (and the letter consisted of two) depended.

I find I can make little more of this; but I'll spare the blots.--Dear
people, ever your loving s