to do much. When I was returning from Nice a dreadful old man with a
fat wife and a weak granddaughter sat opposite me and plied me with the
most extraordinary questions. He began by asking if Lloyd was any
connection of mine, and ended I believe by asking my mother's maiden
name. Another of the questions he put to me was where Louis wished to be
buried, and whether I could afford to have him embalmed when he died.
When the train stopped the only other passenger, a quiet man in a corner
who looked several times as if he wished to interfere and stop the old
man but was too shy, came to me and said that he knew Sidney Colvin and
he knew you, and that you were both friends of Louis; and that his name
was Basil Hammond,[1] and he wished to stay on a day in Marseilles and
help me work off my affairs. I accepted his offer with heartfelt thanks.
I was extremely ill next day, but we two went about and arranged about
giving up this house and what compensation, and did some things that I
could not have managed alone. My French is useful only in domestic
economy, and even that, I fear, is very curious and much of it patois.
Wasn't that a good fellow, and a kind fellow?--I cannot tell you how
grateful I am, words are such feeble things--at least for that purpose.
For anger, justifiable wrath, they are all too forcible. It was very bad
of me not to write to you, we talked of you so often and thought of you
so much, and I always said--"now I will write"--and then somehow I could
not....

FANNY V. DE G. STEVENSON.]

TO CHARLES BAXTER

After his Christmas flight to Marseilles and thence to Nice,
Stevenson began to mend quickly. In this letter to Mr. Baxter he
acknowledges the receipt of a specimen proof, set up for their
private amusement, of _Brashiana_, the series of burlesque sonnets he
had written at Davos in memory of the Edinburgh publican already
mentioned. It should be explained that in their correspondence
Stevenson and Mr. Baxter were accustomed to keep up an old play of
their student days by merging their identities in those of two
fictitious personages, Thomson and Johnson, imaginary types of
Edinburgh character, and ex-elders of the Scottish Kirk.

_Grand Hotel, Nice, 12th January '83._

DEAR CHARLES,--Thanks for your good letter. It is true, man, God's
trueth, what ye say about the body Stevison. The deil himsel, it's my
belief, couldnae get the soul harled oot o' the c