You might also look in Arnot's _Criminal Trials_ up in my room, and see what observations he has on the case (Trial of James Stewart in Appin for murder of Campbell of Glenure, 1752); if he has none, perhaps you could see--O yes, see if Burton has it in his two vols. of trial stories. I hope he hasn't; but care not; do it over again anyway. The two named authorities I must see. With these, I could soon pull off this article; and it shall be my first for the electors.--Ever affectionate son, R. L. S. TO EDMUND GOSSE Some of the habitual readers of Young Folks had written objecting to the early instalments of _Treasure Island_, and the editor had come forward in their defence. _Davos Printing Office, managed by Samuel Lloyd Osbourne & Co., The Chalet [Nov. 9, 1881]._ DEAR WEG,--If you are taking Young Folks, for God's Sake Twig the editorial style; it is incredible; we are all left panting in the rear; twig, O twig it. His name is Clinton; I should say the most melodious prosewriter now alive; it's like buttermilk and blacking; it sings and hums away in that last sheet, like a great old kettle full of bilge water. You know: none of us could do it, boy. See No. 571, last page: an article called "Sir Claude the Conqueror," and read it _aloud_ in your best rhythmic tones; mon cher, c'est épatant. Observe in the same number, how Will J. Shannon girds at your poor friend; and how the rhythmic Clinton steps chivalrously forth in his defence. First the Rev. Purcell; then Will J. Shannon: thick fall the barbéd arrows.[42] I wish I could play a game of chess with you. If I survive, I shall have Clinton to dinner: it is plain I must make hay while the sun shines; I shall not long keep a footing in the world of penny writers, or call them obolists. It is a world full of surprises, a romantic world. Weg, I was known there; even I. The obolists, then, sometimes peruse our works. It is only fair; since I so much batten upon theirs. Talking of which, in Heaven's name, get _The Bondage of Brandon_ (3 vols.) by Bracebridge Hemming. It's the devil and all for drollery. There is a Superior (sic) of the Jesuits, straight out of Skelt. And now look here, I had three points: Clinton--disposed of--(2nd) Benj. Franklin--do you want him? (3rd) A radiant notion begot this morning over an atlas: why not, you who know the lingo, give us a good legendary and historical book on Iceland? It would, or should, be as romantic as a book of Scott's; as strange and stirring as a dream. Think on't. My wife screamed with joy at the idea; and the little Lloyd clapped his hands; so I offer you three readers on the spot. Fanny and I have both been in bed, tended by the hired sick nurse; Lloyd has a broken finger (so he did not clap his hands literally); Wogg has had an abscess in his ear; our servant is a devil.--I am yours ever, with both of our best regards to Mrs. Gosse, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, The Rejected Obolist.