95. 127 copies only printed."

_Skerryvore, September 4, 1886._

Not roses to the rose, I trow,
The thistle sends, nor to the bee
Do wasps bring honey. Wherefore now
Should Locker ask a verse from me?

Martial, perchance,--but he is dead,
And Herrick now must rhyme no more;
Still burning with the muse, they tread
(And arm in arm) the shadowy shore.

They, if they lived, with dainty hand,
To music as of mountain brooks,
Might bring you worthy words to stand
Unshamed, dear Locker, in your books.

But tho' these fathers of your race
Be gone before, yourself a sire,
To-day you see before your face
Your stalwart youngsters touch the lyre.

On these--on Lang or Dobson--call,
Long leaders of the songful feast.
They lend a verse your laughing fall--
A verse they owe you at the least.

TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON

To Mr. Locker's acknowledgment of these verses Stevenson replied as
follows, asking his correspondent's interest on behalf of a friend
who had been kind to him at Hyeres, in procuring a nomination for her
son to the Blue-Coat School.

_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, September 1886._

DEAR LOCKER,--You take my verses too kindly, but you will admit, for
such a bluebottle of a versifier to enter the house of Gertrude, where
her necklace hangs, was not a little brave. Your kind invitation, I
fear, must remain unaccepted; and yet--if I am very well--perhaps next
spring--(for I mean to be very well)--my wife might.... But all that is
in the clouds with my better health. And now look here: you are a rich
man and know many people, therefore perhaps some of the Governors of
Christ's Hospital. If you do, I know a most deserving case, in which I
would (if I could) do anything. To approach you, in this way, is not
decent; and you may therefore judge by my doing it, how near this matter
lies to my heart. I enclose you a list of the Governors, which I beg you
to return, whether or not you shall be able to do anything to help me.

The boy's name is ----; he and his mother are very poor. It may interest
you in her cause if I tell you this: that when I was dangerously ill at
Hyeres, this brave lady, who had then a sick husband of her own (since
dead) and a house to keep and a family of four to cook for, all with her
own hands, for they could afford no servant, yet took watch-about with
my wife, and contributed not only to my comfort,