as
ill; and I am too weak.--Yours ever,

R. L. S.

TO W. E. HENLEY

During the two months following his father's death Stevenson had
suffered much both from his old complaints and from depression of
mind. His only work had been in preparing for press the verse
collection _Underwoods_, the _Life of Fleeming Jenkin_, and the
volume of essays called _Memories and Portraits_. The opinions quoted
are those of physicians.

_[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] August 1887._

DEAR LAD,--I write to inform you that Mr. Stevenson's well-known work,
_Virginibus Puerisque_, is about to be reprinted. At the same time a
second volume called _Memories and Portraits_ will issue from the
roaring loom. Its interest will be largely autobiographical, Mr. S.
having sketched there the lineaments of many departed friends, and dwelt
fondly, and with a m'istened eye, upon by-gone pleasures. The two will
be issued under the common title of _Familiar Essays_; but the volumes
will be vended separately to those who are mean enough not to hawk at
both.

The blood is at last stopped: only yesterday. I began to think I should
not get away. However, I hope--I hope--remark the word--no boasting--I
hope I may luff up a bit now. Dobell, whom I saw, gave as usual a good
account of my lungs, and expressed himself, like his neighbours,
hopefully about the trip. He says, my uncle says, Scott says, Brown
says--they all say--You ought not to be in such a state of health; you
should recover. Well, then, I mean to. My spirits are rising again after
three months of black depression: I almost begin to feel as if I should
care to live: I would, by God! And so I believe I shall.--Yours,

BULLETIN M'GURDER.

How has the _Deacon_ gone?

TO W. H. LOW

_[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] August 6th, 1887._

MY DEAR LOW,--We--my mother, my wife, my stepson, my maidservant, and
myself, five souls--leave, if all is well, Aug. 20th, per Wilson line
s.s. Ludgate Hill. Shall probably evade N. Y. at first, cutting
straight to a watering-place: Newport, I believe, its name. Afterwards
we shall steal incognito into _la bonne ville_, and see no one but you
and the Scribners, if it may be so managed. You must understand I have
been very seedy indeed, quite a dead body; and unless the voyage does
miracles, I shall have to draw it dam fine. Alas, "The Canoe Speaks" is
now out of date; it will figure in my volume of verses now imminen