_Monastier, at Morel's [September 1878]._ Lud knows about date, _vide_ postmark. MY DEAR CHARLES,--Yours (with enclosures) of the 16th to hand. All work done. I go to Le Puy to-morrow to dispatch baggage, get cash, stand lunch to engineer, who has been very jolly and useful to me, and hope by five o'clock on Saturday morning to be driving Modestine towards the Gévaudan. Modestine is my ânesse; a darling, mouse-colour, about the size of a Newfoundland dog (bigger, between you and me), the colour of a mouse, costing 65 francs and a glass of brandy. Glad you sent on all the coin; was half afraid I might come to a stick in the mountains, donkey and all, which would have been the devil. Have finished _Arabian Nights_ and Edinburgh book, and am a free man. Next address, Poste Restante, Alais, Gard. Give my servilities to the family. Health bad; spirits, I think, looking up.--Ever yours, R. L. S. TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON _Paris, October 1878._ MY DEAR MOTHER,--I have seen Hamerton; he was very kind, all his family seemed pleased to see an _Inland Voyager_, and the book seemed to be quite a household word with them. P. G. himself promised to help me in my bargains with publishers, which, said he, and I doubt not very truthfully, he could manage to much greater advantage than I. He is also to read an _Inland Voyage_ over again, and send me his cuts and cuffs in private, after having liberally administered his kisses _coram publico_. I liked him very much. Of all the pleasant parts of my profession, I think the spirit of other men of letters makes the pleasantest. Do you know, your sunset was very good? The "attack" (to speak learnedly) was so plucky and odd. I have thought of it repeatedly since. I have just made a delightful dinner by myself in the Café Félix, where I am an old established beggar, and am just smoking a cigar over my coffee. I came last night from Autun, and I am muddled about my plans. The world is such a dance!--Ever your affectionate son, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. TO W. E. HENLEY Stevenson, hard at work upon _Providence and the Guitar_, _New Arabian Nights_, and _Travels with a Donkey_, was at this time occupying for a few days my rooms at Trinity in my absence. The college buildings and gardens, the ideal setting and careful tutelage of English academic life--in these respects so strongly contrasted with the Scottish--affected him always with a sense of unreality. The gyp mentioned is the present head porter of the college. [_Trinity College, Cambridge, Autumn 1878._]