I beg of you also to consider my strange position. I jined a club which it was said was to defend the Union; and I had a letter from the secretary, which his name I believe was Lord Warmingpan (or words to that effect), to say I am elected, and had better pay up a certain sum of money, I forget what. Now I cannae verra weel draw a blank cheque and send to-- LORD WARMINGPAN (or words to that effect), London, England. And, man, if it was possible, I would be dooms glad to be out o' this bit scrapie. Mebbe the club was ca'd "The Union," but I wouldnae like to sweir; and mebbe it wasnae, or mebbe only words to that effec'--but I wouldnae care just exac'ly about sweirin'. Do ye no think Henley, or Pollick, or some o' they London fellies, micht mebbe perhaps find out for me? and just what the soom was? And that you would aiblins pay for me? For I thocht I was sae dam patriotic jinin', and it would be a kind o' a come-doun to be turned out again. Mebbe Lang would ken; or mebbe Rider Haggyard: they're kind o' Union folks. But it's my belief his name was Warmingpan whatever.--Yours, THOMSON, _alias_ ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. Could it be Warminster? TO MISS MONROE The play of DEACON BRODIE was at this time being performed at Chicago, with Mr. E. J. Henley in the title-part. _Saranac Lake, New York [December 19, 1887]._ DEAR MISS MONROE,--Many thanks for your letter and your good wishes. It was much my desire to get to Chicago: had I done--or if I yet do--so, I shall hope to see the original of my photograph, which is one of my show possessions; but the fates are rather contrary. My wife is far from well; I myself dread, worse than almost any other imaginable peril, that miraculous and really insane invention the American Railroad Car. Heaven help the man--may I add the woman--that sets foot in one! Ah, if it were only an ocean to cross, it would be a matter of small thought to me--and great pleasure. But the railroad car--every man has his weak point; and I fear the railroad car as abjectly as I do an earwig, and, on the whole, on better grounds. You do not know how bitter it is to have to make such a confession; for you have not the pretension nor the weakness of a man. If I do get to Chicago, you will hear of me: so much can be said. And do you never come east? I was pleased to recognise a word of my poor old _Deacon_ in your letter. It would interest me very much to hear how it went and what you thought of piece and actors; and my collaborator, who knows and respects the photograph, would be pleased too.--Still in the hope of seeing you, I am, yours very truly, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. TO HENRY JAMES _Saranac Lake, Winter 1887-88._