hnique
when you rise and when you go to bed. Forget purposes in the meanwhile;
get to love technical processes; to glory in technical successes; get to
see the world entirely through technical spectacles, to see it entirely
in terms of what you can do. Then when you have anything to say, the
language will be apt and copious.

My health is better.

I have no photograph just now; but when I get one you shall have a copy.
It will not be like me; sometimes I turn out a capital, fresh bank
clerk; once I came out the image of Runjeet Singh; again the treacherous
sun has fixed me in the character of a travelling evangelist. It's quite
a lottery; but whatever the next venture proves to be, soldier, sailor,
tinker, tailor, you shall have a proof. Reciprocate. The truth is I have
no appearance; a certain air of disreputability is the one constant
character that my face presents: the rest change like water. But still I
am lean, and still disreputable.

Cling to your youth. It is an artistic stock in trade. Don't give in
that you are ageing, and you won't age. I have exactly the same faults
and qualities still; only a little duller, greedier and better tempered;
a little less tolerant of pain and more tolerant of tedium. The last is
a great thing for life but--query?--a bad endowment for art?

Another note for the art student.

4. See the good in other people's work; it will never be yours. See the
bad in your own, and don't cry about it; it will be there always. Try to
use your faults; at any rate use your knowledge of them, and don't run
your head against stone walls. Art is not like theology; nothing is
forced. You have not to represent the world. You have to represent only
what you can represent with pleasure and effect, and the only way to
find out what that is is by technical exercise.--Yours sincerely,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO JULES SIMONEAU

[_Hyeres or Royat, Summer 1883._]

MY DEAR FRIEND SIMONEAU,--It would be difficult to tell how glad I was
to get your letter with your good news and kind remembrances, it did my
heart good to the bottom. I shall never forget the good time we had
together, the many long talks, the games of chess, the flute on an
occasion, and the excellent food. Now I am in clover, only my health a
mere ruined temple; the ivy grows along its shattered front, otherwise,
I have no wish that is not fulfilled: a beautiful large garden, a fine
view of plain, sea and mountain;