The Black Man:
I. Thrawn Janet.
II. The Devil on Cramond Sands.
The Shadow on the Bed.
The Body-Snatchers.
The Case Bottle.
The King's Horn.
The Actor's Wife.
The Wreck of the Susanna.
This is the new work on which I am engaged with Fanny; they are all
supernatural. _Thrawn Janet_ is off to Stephen, but as it is all in
Scotch he cannot take it, I know. It was _so good_, I could not help
sending it. My health improves. We have a lovely spot here: a little
green glen with a burn, a wonderful burn, gold and green and snow-white,
singing loud and low in different steps of its career, now pouring over
miniature crags, now fretting itself to death in a maze of rocky stairs
and pots; never was so sweet a little river. Behind, great purple
moorlands reaching to Ben Vrackie. Hunger lives here, alone with larks
and sheep. Sweet spot, sweet spot.
Write me a word about Bob's professoriate and Landor, and what you think
of _The Black Man_. The tales are all ghastly. _Thrawn Janet_ frightened
me to death. There will maybe be another--_The Dead Man's Letter_. I
believe I shall recover; and I am, in this blessed hope, yours
exuberantly,