The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 1Stevenson, Robert Louis
General
The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 1
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Authors, Scottish -- 19th century -- Correspondence; Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 -- Correspondence
I suppose you heard of our ghost stories. They are somewhat delayed by
my cold and a bad attack of laziness, embroidery, etc., under which Fanny
had been some time prostrate. It is horrid that we can get no better
weather. I did not get such good accounts of you as might have been.
You must imitate me. I am now one of the most conscientious people at
trying to get better you ever saw. I have a white hat, it is much
admired; also a plaid, and a heavy stoop; so I take my walks abroad,
witching the world.
Last night I was beaten at chess, and am still grinding under the
blow.—Ever your faithful friend,
R. L. S.
TO EDMUND GOSSE
_The Cottage_ (_late the late Miss M’Gregor’s_),
_Castleton of Braemar_, _August_ 10, 1881.
MY DEAR GOSSE,—Come on the 24th, there is a dear fellow. Everybody else
wants to come later, and it will be a godsend for, sir—Yours sincerely.
You can stay as long as you behave decently, and are not sick of,
sir—Your obedient, humble servant.
We have family worship in the home of, sir—Yours respectfully.
Braemar is a fine country, but nothing to (what you will also see) the
maps of, sir—Yours in the Lord.
A carriage and two spanking hacks draw up daily at the hour of two before
the house of, sir—Yours truly.
The rain rains and the winds do beat upon the cottage of the late Miss
Macgregor and of, sir—Yours affectionately.
It is to be trusted that the weather may improve ere you know the halls
of, sir—Yours emphatically.
All will be glad to welcome you, not excepting, sir—Yours ever.
You will now have gathered the lamentable intellectual collapse of,
sir—Yours indeed.
And nothing remains for me but to sign myself, sir—Yours,
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
_N.B._—Each of these clauses has to be read with extreme glibness, coming
down whack upon the ‘Sir.’ This is very important. The fine stylistic
inspiration will else be lost.
I commit the man who made, the man who sold, and the woman who supplied
me with my present excruciating gilt nib to that place where the worm
never dies.
The reference to a deceased Highland lady (tending as it does to foster
unavailing sorrow) may be with advantage omitted from the address, which
would therefore run—The Cottage, Castleton of Braemar.
TO EDMUND GOSSE
_The Cottage_, _Castleton of Braemar_, _August_ 19, 1881.
IF you had an uncle who was a sea captain and went to the North Pole, you
had better bring his outfit. _Verbum Sapientibus_. I look towards you.
R. L. STEVENSON.
TO EDMUND GOSSE
[_Braemar_], _August_ 19, 1881.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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