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number of streams that flow by the spot.



CHAPTER VII - THE VAILIMA LETTERS

THE Vailima Letters, written to Mr Sidney Colvin and other friends,



are in their way delightful if not inimitable: and this, in spite

of the idea having occurred to him, that some use might hereafter



be made of these letters for publication purposes. There is,

indeed, as little trace of any change in the style through this as



well could be - the utterly familiar, easy, almost child-like flow

remains, unmarred by self-consciousness or tendency "to put it on."



In June, 1892, Stevenson says:

"It came over me the other day suddenly that this diary of mine to



you would make good pickings after I am dead, and a man could make

some kind of a book out of it, without much trouble. So for God's



sake don't lose them, and they will prove a piece of provision for

'my floor old family,' as Simele calls it."



But their great charm remains: they are as free and gracious and

serious and playful and informal as before. Stevenson's traits of



character are all here: his largeness of heart, his delicacy, his

sympathy, his fun, his pathos, his boylike frolicsomeness, his fine



courage, his love of the sea (for he was by nature a sailor), his

passion for action and adventure despite his ill-health, his great



patience with others and fine adaptability to their temper (he says

that he never gets out of temper with those he has to do with), his



unbounded, big-hearted hopefulness, and fine perseverance in face

of difficulties. What could be better than the way in which he



tells that in January, 1892, when he had a bout of influenza and

was dictating ST IVES to his stepdaughter, Mrs Strong, he was



"reduced to dictating to her in the deaf-and-dumb alphabet"? - and

goes on:



"The amanuensis has her head quite turned, and believes herself to

be the author of this novel [AND IS TO SOME EXTENT. - A.M.] and as



the creature (!) has not been whollyuseless in the matter [I TOLD

YOU SO! - A.M.] I propose to foster her vanity by a little



commemoration gift! . . . I shall tell you on some other occasion,

and when the A.M. is out of hearing, how VERY much I propose to



invest in this testimonial; but I may as well inform you at once

that I intend it to be cheap, sir - damned cheap! My idea of



running amanuenses is by praise, not pudding, flattery, and not

coins."



Truly, a rare and rich nature which could thus draw sunshine out of

its trials! - which, by aid of the true philosopher's stone of



cheerfulness and courage, could transmute the heavy dust and clay

to gold.



His interests are so wide that he is sometimes pulled in different

and conflicting directions, as in the contest between his desire to



aid Mataafa and the other chiefs, and his literary work - between

letters to the TIMES about Samoan politics, and, say, DAVID



BALFOUR. Here is a characteristic bit in that strain:

"I have a good dose of the devil in my pipestem atomy; I have had



my little holiday outing in my kick at THE YOUNG CHEVALIER, and I

guess I can settle to DAVID BALFOUR, to-morrow or Friday like a



little man. I wonder if any one had ever more energy upon so

little strength? I know there is a frost; . . . but I mean to



break that frost inside two years, and pull off a big success, and

Vanity whispers in my ear that I have the strength. If I haven't,



whistle owre the lave o't! I can do without glory, and perhaps the

time is not far off when I can do without corn. It is a time



coming soon enough, anyway; and I have endured some two and forty

years without public shame, and had a good time as I did it. If



only I could secure a violent death, what a fine success! I wish

to die in my boots; no more Land of Counterpane for me. To be



drowned, to be shot, to be thrown from a horse - ay, to be hanged,

rather than pass again through that slow dissolution."



He would not consent to act the invalid unless the spring ran down

altogether; was keen for exercise and for mixing among men - his



native servants if no others were near by. Here is a bit of

confession and casuistry quite A LA Stevenson:



"To come down covered with mud and drenched with sweat and rain

after some hours in the bush, change, rub down, and take a chair in






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