_Dec._ 1_st_.
MY DEAR COLVIN,—Another grimy little odd and end of paper, for which you
shall be this month repaid in kind, and serve you jolly well right. . . .
The new house is roofed; it will be a braw house, and what is better, I
have my yearly bill in, and I find I can pay for it. For all which
mercies, etc. I must have made close on £4,000 this year all told; but,
what is not so pleasant, I seem to have come near to spending them. I
have been in great alarm, with this new house on the cards, all summer,
and came very near to taking in sail, but I live here so entirely on
credit, that I determined to hang on.
* * * * *
_Dec._ 1_st_.
I was saying yesterday that my life was strange and did not think how
well I spoke. Yesterday evening I was briefed to defend a political
prisoner before the Deputy Commissioner. What do you think of that for a
vicissitude?
* * * * *
_Dec._ 3_rd_.
Now for a confession. When I heard you and Cassells had decided to print
_The Bottle Imp_ along with _Falesá_, I was too much disappointed to
answer. _The Bottle Imp_ was the _pièce de résistance_ for my volume,
_Island Nights’ Entertainments_. However, that volume might have never
got done; and I send you two others in case they should be in time.
First have the _Beach of Falesá_.
Then a fresh false title: ISLAND NIGHTS’ ENTERTAINMENTS; and then
_The Bottle Imp_: a cue from an old melodrama.
_The Isle of Voices_.
_The Waif Woman_; a cue from a _saga_.
Of course these two others are not up to the mark of _The Bottle Imp_;
but they each have a certain merit, and they fit in style. By saying ‘a
cue from an old melodrama’ after the B. I., you can get rid of my note.
If this is in time, it will be splendid, and will make quite a volume.
Should you and Cassells prefer, you can call the whole volume _I. N.
E._—though the _Beach of Falesá_ is the child of a quite different
inspiration. They all have a queer realism, even the most extravagant,
even the _Isle of Voices_; the manners are exact.
Should they come too late, have them type-written, and return to me here
the type-written copies.
* * * * *
_Sunday_, _Dec._ 4_th_.
3rd start,—But now more humbly and with the aid of an Amanuensis. First
one word about page 2. My wife protests against the Waif-woman and I am
instructed to report the same to you. . . .
* * * * *
_Dec._ 5_th_.
A horrid alarm rises that our October mail was burned crossing the
Plains. If so, you lost a beautiful long letter—I am sure it was
beautiful though I remember nothing about it—and I must say I think it
serves you properly well. That I should continue writing to you at such
length is simply a vicious habit for which I blush. At the same time,
please communicate at once with Charles Baxter whether you have or have
not received a letter posted here Oct. 12th, as he is going to cable me
the fate of my mail.
Now to conclude my news. The German Firm have taken my book like angels,
and the result is that Lloyd and I were down there at dinner on Saturday,
where we partook of fifteen several dishes and eight distinct forms of
intoxicating drink. To the credit of Germany, I must say there was not a
shadow of a headache the next morning. I seem to have done as well as my
neighbours, for I hear one of the clerks expressed the next morning a
gratified surprise that Mr. Stevenson stood his drink so well. It is a
strange thing that any race can still find joy in such athletic
exercises. I may remark in passing that the mail is due and you have had
far more than you deserve.
R. L. S.