d indispensable._

_Robert Louis Stevenson_, by Henry James, in _Partial Portraits,_
1894. _Admirable criticism_.

_Robert Louis Stevenson_, by Walter Raleigh. 1895. _An excellent
appreciation of his character and work._

_Robert Louis Stevenson: Personal Memories_, by Edmund Gosse, in
_Critical Kit-Kats,_ 1896. _Entertaining gossip._

_Stevenson's Shrine, The Record of a Pilgrimage_, by Laura Stubbs.
1903. _Very interesting full-page illustrations._

_(For further critical books and articles, which are numerous, consult
Prideaux.)_

ESSAYS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

I

ON THE ENJOYMENT OF UNPLEASANT PLACES

It is a difficult matter[1] to make the most of any given place, and
we have much in our own power. Things looked at patiently from one
side after another generally end by showing a side that is beautiful.
A few months ago some words were said in the _Portfolio_ as to an
"austere regimen in scenery"; and such a discipline was then
recommended as "healthful and strengthening to the taste." That is the
text, so to speak, of the present essay. This discipline in
scenery,[2] it must be understood, is something more than a mere walk
before breakfast to whet the appetite. For when we are put down in
some unsightly neighborhood, and especially if we have come to be more
or less dependent on what we see, we must set ourselves to hunt out
beautiful things with all the ardour and patience of a botanist after
a rare plant. Day by day we perfect ourselves in the art of seeing
nature more favourably. We learn to live with her, as people learn to
live with fretful or violent spouses: to dwell lovingly on what is
good, and shut our eyes against all that is bleak or inharmonious. We
learn, also, to come to each place in the right spirit. The traveller,
as Brantome quaintly tells us, "_fait des discours en soi pour se
soutenir en chemin_";[3] and into these discourses he weaves something
out of all that he sees and suffers by the way; they take their tone
greatly from the varying character of the scene; a sharp ascent brings
different thoughts from a level road; and the man's fancies grow
lighter as he comes out of the wood into a clearing. Nor does the
scenery any more affect the thoughts than the thoughts affect the
scenery. We see places through our humours as though differently
colored glasses. We are ourselves a term in the equation, a note of
the chord, and make discord or harmony almost at will. There is no
f