MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--I don't know but what I agree fairly well with all you say, only I like _The Merry Men_, as a fantasia or vision of the sea, better than you do. The trouble with _Olalla_ is that it somehow sounds false; and I think it must be this that gives you the feeling of irreverence. Of _Thrawn Janet_, which I like very much myself, you say nothing, thus uttering volumes; but it is plain that people cannot always agree. I do not think it is a wholesome part of me that broods on the evil in the world and man; but I do not think that I get harm from it; possibly my readers may, which is more serious; but at any account, I do not purpose to write more in this vein. But the odd problem is: what makes a story true? _Markheim_ is true; _Olalla_ false; and I don't know why, nor did I feel it while I worked at them; indeed I had more inspiration with _Olalla_, as the style shows. I am glad you thought that young Spanish woman well dressed; I admire the style of it myself, more than is perhaps good for me; it is so solidly written. And that again brings back (almost with the voice of despair) my unanswerable: why is it false? Here is a great deal about my works. I am in bed again; and my wife but so-so; and we have no news recently from Lloyd; and the cat is well; and we see, or I see, no one; so that other matters are all closed against me. Your vision is strange indeed; but I see not how to use it; I fear I am earthy enough myself to regard it as a case of disease, but certainly it is a thrilling case to hear of.--Ever affectionately yours, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. TO HENRY JAMES This letter is written on the front page of a set of proofs of _Memories and Portraits_. The "silly Xmas story" is _The Misadventures of John Nicholson_; the "volume of verse" appeared later in the year as _Underwoods_. The signature refers to the two Scots poets of whom, "in his native speech," he considered himself the follower. _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, January 1887._ All the salutations! MY DEAR JAMES,--I send you the first sheets of the new volume, all that has yet reached me, the rest shall follow in course. I am really a very fair sort of a fellow all things considered, have done some work; a silly Xmas story (with some larks in it) which won't be out till I don't know when. I am also considering a volume of verse, much of which will be cast in my native speech, that very dark oracular medium: I suppose this is a folly, but what then? As the nurse says in Marryat, "It was only a little one."