I am, of course, deep in schemes; I was so ever. Execution alone somewhat halts. How much do you make per annum, I wonder? This year, for the first time, I shall pass £300; I may even get halfway to the next milestone. This seems but a faint remuneration; and the devil of it is, that I manage, with sickness, and moves, and education, and the like, to keep steadily in front of my income. However, I console myself with this, that if I were anything else under God’s Heaven, and had the same crank health, I should make an even zero. If I had, with my present knowledge, twelve months of my old health, I would, could, and should do something neat. As it is, I have to tinker at my things in little sittings; and the rent, or the butcher, or something, is always calling me off to rattle up a pot-boiler. And then comes a back-set of my health, and I have to twiddle my fingers and play patience. Well, I do not complain, but I do envy strong health where it is squandered. Treasure your strength, and may you never learn by experience the profound _ennui_ and irritation of the shelved artist. For then, what is life? All that one has done to make one’s life effective then doubles the itch of inefficiency. I trust also you may be long without finding out the devil that there is in a bereavement. After love it is the one great surprise that life preserves for us. Now I don’t think I can be astonished any more.—Yours affectionately, R. L. S. TO SIDNEY COLVIN _La Solitude_, _Hyères-les-Palmiers_, _Var_ [_October_ 1883]. COLVIN, COLVIN, COLVIN,—Yours received; also interesting copy of _P. Whistles_. ‘In the multitude of councillors the Bible declares there is wisdom,’ said my great-uncle, ‘but I have always found in them distraction.’ It is extraordinary how tastes vary: these proofs have been handed about, it appears, and I have had several letters; and—distraction. ‘Æsop: the Miller and the Ass.’ Notes on details:— 1. I love the occasional trochaic line; and so did many excellent writers before me. 2. If you don’t like ‘A Good Boy,’ I do. 3. In ‘Escape at Bedtime,’ I found two suggestions. ‘Shove’ for ‘above’ is a correction of the press; it was so written. ‘Twinkled’ is just the error; to the child the stars appear to be there; any word that suggests illusion is a horror. 4. I don’t care; I take a different view of the vocative. 5. Bewildering and childering are good enough for me. These are rhymes, jingles; I don’t go for eternity and the three unities. I will delete some of those condemned, but not all. I don’t care for the name Penny Whistles; I sent a sheaf to Henley when I sent ’em. But I’ve forgot the others. I would just as soon call ’em ‘Rimes for Children’ as anything else. I am not proud nor particular.