You doctors have a serious responsibility. You recall a man from the gates of death, you give him health and strength once more to use or to abuse. I hope I shall feel your responsibility added to my own, and seek in the future to make a better profit of the life you have renewed me.—I am, my dear sir, gratefully yours, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. TO SIDNEY COLVIN [_San Francisco_, _April_ 1880.] MY DEAR COLVIN,—You must be sick indeed of my demand for books, for you have seemingly not yet sent me one. Still, I live on promises: waiting for Penn, for H. James’s _Hawthorne_, for my _Burns_, etc.; and now, to make matters worse, pending your _Centuries_, etc., I do earnestly desire the best book about mythology (if it be German, so much the worse; send a bunctionary along with it, and pray for me). This is why. If I recover, I feel called on to write a volume of gods and demi-gods in exile: Pan, Jove, Cybele, Venus, Charon, etc.; and though I should like to take them very free, I should like to know a little about ’em to begin with. For two days, till last night, I had no night sweats, and my cough is almost gone, and I digest well; so all looks hopeful. However, I was near the other side of Jordan. I send the proof of _Thoreau_ to you, so that you may correct and fill up the quotation from Goethe. It is a pity I was ill, as, for matter, I think I prefer that to any of my essays except Burns; but the style, though quite manly, never attains any melody or lenity. So much for consumption: I begin to appreciate what the _Emigrant_ must be. As soon as I have done the last few pages of the _Emigrant_ they shall go to you. But when will that be? I know not quite yet—I have to be so careful.—Ever yours, R. L. S. TO SIDNEY COLVIN [_San Francisco_, _April_ 1880.]