ther a pilgrim, and one who was out
with the bear flag and under Fremont when California was taken by the
States. They are both true frontiersmen, and most kind and pleasant.
Captain Smith, the bear-hunter, is my physician, and I obey him like an
oracle.

The business of my life stands pretty nigh still. I work at my notes of
the voyage. It will not be very like a book of mine; but perhaps none
the less successful for that. I will not deny that I feel lonely to-day;
but I do not fear to go on, for I am doing right. I have not yet had a
word from England, partly, I suppose, because I have not yet written for
my letters to New York; do not blame me for this neglect; if you knew
all I have been through, you would wonder I had done so much as I have.
I teach the ranche children reading in the morning, for the mother is
from home sick.--Ever your affectionate friend,

R. L. S.

TO SIDNEY COLVIN

[_Monterey, California, October 1879._]

MY DEAR COLVIN,--I received your letter with delight; it was the first
word that reached me from the old country. I am in good health now; I
have been pretty seedy, for I was exhausted by the journey and anxiety
below even my point of keeping up; I am still a little weak, but that is
all; I begin to ingrease,[23] it seems, already. My book is about half
drafted: the _Amateur Emigrant_, that is. Can you find a better name? I
believe it will be more popular than any of my others; the canvas is so
much more popular and larger too. Fancy, it is my fourth. That
voluminous writer. I was vexed to hear about the last chapter of _The
Lie_, and pleased to hear about the rest; it would have been odd if it
had no birthmark, born where and how it was. It should by rights have
been called the _Devonia_, for that is the habit with all children born
in a steerage.

I write to you, hoping for more. Give me news of all who concern me,
near or far, or big or little. Here, sir, in California you have a
willing hearer.

Monterey is a place where there is no summer or winter, and pines and
sand and distant hills and a bay all filled with real water from the
Pacific. You will perceive that no expense has been spared. I now live
with a little French doctor; I take one of my meals in a little French
restaurant; for the other two, I sponge. The population of Monterey is
about that of a dissenting chapel on a wet Sunday in a strong church
neighbourhood. They are mostly Mexican and Indian--mixe