vidences the other day among my papers, and blushed to the heels.

R. L. S.

I give up finding out your name in the meantime, and keep to that by
which you will be known--Frederick Locker.

TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON

_[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] 24th September 1886._

MY DEAR LOCKER,--You are simply an angel of light, and your two letters
have gone to the post; I trust they will reach the hearts of the
recipients--at least, that could not be more handsomely expressed. About
the cheque: well now, I am going to keep it; but I assure you Mrs. ----
has never asked me for money, and I would not dare to offer any till she
did. For all that I shall stick to the cheque now, and act to that
amount as your almoner. In this way I reward myself for the ambiguity of
my epistolary style.

I suppose, if you please, you may say your verses are thin (would you so
describe an arrow, by the way, and one that struck the gold? It scarce
strikes me as exhaustively descriptive), and, thin or not, they are
(and I have found them) inimitably elegant. I thank you again very
sincerely for the generous trouble you have taken in this matter which
was so near my heart, and you may be very certain it will be the fault
of my health and not my inclination, if I do not see you before very
long; for all that has past has made me in more than the official sense
sincerely yours,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO AUGUSTE RODIN

Written after another visit to me in London, in November, which had
been cut short by fogs. "Le Printemps" is Rodin's group so called.

[_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, December 1886._]

MON CHER AMI,--Il y a bien longtemps deja que je vous dois des lettres
par dizaines; mais bien que je vais mieux, je ne vais toujours que
doucement. Il a fallu faire le voyage a Bournemouth comme une fuite en
Egypte, par crainte des brouillards qui me tuaient; et j'en ressentais
beaucoup de fatigue. Mais maintenant cela commence a aller, et je puis
vous donner de mes nouvelles.

Le Printemps est arrive, mais il avait le bras casse, et nous l'avons
laisse, lors de notre fuite, aux soins d'un medecin-de-statues. Je
l'attends de jour en jour; et ma maisonette en resplendira bientot. Je
regrette beaucoup le dedicace; peutetre, quand vous viendrez nous voir,
ne serait-il pas trop tard de l'ajouter? Je n'en sais rien, je l'espere.
L'oeuvre, c'est pour tout le monde; le dedicace est pour moi. L'oeuvre
est un cad