This letter tells of the progress of the Portfolio papers called _Picturesque Notes on Edinburgh_, and of preparations for the walking tour narrated in _Travels with a Donkey_. The late Philip Gilbert Hamerton, editor of the Portfolio and author of _A Painter's Camp in the Highlands_ and of many well-known works on art, landscape, and French social life, was at this time and for many years living at a small chateau near Autun; and the visit here proposed was actually paid and gave great pleasure alike to host and guest (see _P. G. Hamerton, an Autobiography_, etc., p. 451). _Monastier, September 1878._ MY DEAR MOTHER,--You must not expect to hear much from me for the next two weeks; for I am near starting. Donkey purchased--a love--price, 65 francs and a glass of brandy. My route is all pretty well laid out; I shall go near no town till I get to Alais. Remember, Poste Restante, Alais, Gard. Greyfriars will be in October. You did not say whether you liked September; you might tell me that at Alais. The other No.'s of Edinburgh are: Parliament Close, Villa Quarters (which perhaps may not appear), Calton Hill, Winter and New Year, and to the Pentland Hills. 'Tis a kind of book nobody would ever care to read; but none of the young men could have done it better than I have, which is always a consolation. I read _Inland Voyage_ the other day: what rubbish these reviewers did talk! It is not badly written, thin, mildly cheery, and strained. _Selon moi._ I mean to visit Hamerton on my return journey; otherwise, I should come by sea from Marseilles. I am very well known here now; indeed, quite a feature of the place.--Your affectionate son, R. L. S. The Engineer is the Conductor of Roads and Bridges; then I have the Receiver of Registrations, the First Clerk of Excise, and the Perceiver of the Impost. That is our dinner party. I am a sort of hovering government official, as you see. But away--away from these great companions! TO W. E. HENLEY [_Monastier, September 1878._] DEAR HENLEY,--I hope to leave Monastier this day (Saturday) week; thenceforward Poste Restante, Alais, Gard, is my address. _Travels with a Donkey in the French Highlands._ I am no good to-day. I cannot work, nor even write letters. A colossal breakfast yesterday at Puy has, I think, done for me for ever; I certainly ate more than ever I ate before in my life--a big slice of melon, some ham and jelly, a _filet_, a helping of gudgeons, the breast and leg of a partridge, some green peas, eight crayfish, some Mont d'Or cheese, a peach, and a handful of biscuits, macaroons, and things. It sounds Gargantuan: it cost three francs a head. So that it was inexpensive to the pocket, although I fear it may prove extravagant to the fleshly tabernacle. I can't think how I did it or why. It is a new form of excess for me; but I think it pays less than any of them. R. L. S. TO CHARLES BAXTER