in the one tug, and I neither
feeling glad nor sorry, I got my last lesson about mankind; I mean my
latest lesson, for of course I do not know what surprises there are yet
in store for me. But that I could have so felt astonished me beyond
description. There is a wonderful callousness in human nature which
enables us to live. I had no feeling one way or another from New York to
California, until, at Dutch Flat, a mining camp in the Sierra, I heard a
cock crowing with a home voice; and then I fell to hope and regret both
in the same moment.

Is there a boy or a girl? and how is your wife? I thought of you more
than once, to put it mildly.

I live here comfortably enough; but I shall soon be left all alone,
perhaps till Christmas. Then you may hope for correspondence--and may
not I?--Your friend,

R. L. S.

TO W. E. HENLEY

[_Monterey, October 1879._]

MY DEAR HENLEY,--Herewith the _Pavilion on the Links_, grand carpentry
story in nine chapters, and I should hesitate to say how many tableaux.
Where is it to go? God knows. It is the dibbs that are wanted. It is not
bad, though I say it; carpentry, of course, but not bad at that; and who
else can carpenter in England, now that Wilkie Collins is played out? It
might be broken for magazine purposes at the end of Chapter IV. I send
it to you, as I dare say Payn may help, if all else fails. Dibbs and
speed are my mottoes.

Do acknowledge the _Pavilion_ by return. I shall be so nervous till I
hear, as of course I have no copy except of one or two places where the
vein would not run. God prosper it, poor _Pavilion_! May it bring me
money for myself and my sick one, who may read it, I do not know how
soon.

Love to your wife, Anthony, and all. I shall write to Colvin to-day or
to-morrow.--Yours ever,

R. L. S.

TO W. E. HENLEY

The story spoken of in these letters as A _Vendetta in the West_ was
three parts written and then given up and destroyed.

[_Monterey, October 1879._]

MY DEAR HENLEY,--Many thanks for your good letter, which is the best way
to forgive you for your previous silence. I hope Colvin or somebody has
sent me the Cornhill and the New Quarterly, though I am trying to get
them in San Francisco. I think you might have sent me (1) some of your
articles in the P. M. G.[24]; (2) a paper with the announcement of
second edition; and (3) the announcement of the essays in Athenaeum. This
to prick you in the fut