My soul was full of disgust ere I got back. And yet the ships were beautiful to see, as they are always; and on the pier there was a clean cold wind that smelt a little of the sea, though it came down the Firth, and the sunset had a certain _éclat_ and warmth. Perhaps if I could get more work done, I should be in a better trim to enjoy filthy streets and people and cold grim weather; but I don’t much feel as if it was what I would have chosen. I am tempted every day of my life to go off on another walking tour. I like that better than anything else that I know.—Ever your faithful friend, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. TO SIDNEY COLVIN [_Edinburgh_, _February_ 1876.] MY DEAR COLVIN,—1_st_. I have sent ‘Fontainebleau’ long ago, long ago. And Leslie Stephen is worse than tepid about it—liked ‘some parts’ of it ‘very well,’ the son of Belial. Moreover, he proposes to shorten it; and I, who want _money_, and money soon, and not glory and the illustration of the English language, I feel as if my poverty were going to consent. 2_nd_. I’m as fit as a fiddle after my walk. I am four inches bigger about the waist than last July! There, that’s your prophecy did that. I am on ‘Charles of Orleans’ now, but I don’t know where to send him. Stephen obviously spews me out of his mouth, and I spew him out of mine, so help me! A man who doesn’t like my ‘Fontainebleau’! His head must be turned. 3_rd_. If ever you do come across my ‘Spring’ (I beg your pardon for referring to it again, but I don’t want you to forget) send it off at once. 4_th_. I went to Ayr, Maybole, Girvan, Ballantrae, Stranraer, Glenluce, and Wigton. I shall make an article of it some day soon, ‘A Winter’s Walk in Carrick and Galloway.’ I had a good time.—Yours, R. L S. TO SIDNEY COLVIN [_Swanston Cottage_, _Lothianburn_, _July_ 1876.] HERE I am, here, and very well too. I am glad you liked ‘Walking Tours’; I like it, too; I think it’s prose; and I own with contrition that I have not always written prose. However, I am ‘endeavouring after new obedience’ (Scot. Shorter Catechism). You don’t say aught of ‘Forest Notes,’ which is kind. There is one, if you will, that was too sweet to be wholesome. I am at ‘Charles d’Orléans.’ About fifteen _Cornhill_ pages have already coulé’d from under my facile plume—no, I mean eleven, fifteen of MS.—and we are not much more than half-way through, ‘Charles’ and I; but he’s a pleasant companion. My health is very well; I am in a fine exercisy state. Baynes is gone to London; if you see him, inquire about my ‘Burns.’ They have sent me £5, 5s, for it, which has mollified me horrid. £5, 5s. is a good deal to pay for a read of it in MS.; I can’t complain.—Yours, R. L. S.