ead first for another rapid before many days; _nitor
aquis_, said a certain Eton boy, translating for his sins a part of the
_Inland Voyage_ into Latin elegiacs; and from the hour I saw it, or
rather a friend of mine, the admirable Jenkin, saw and recognised its
absurd appropriateness, I took it for my device in life. I am going for
thirty now; and unless I can snatch a little rest before long, I have, I
may tell you in confidence, no hope of seeing thirty-one. My health
began to break last winter, and has given me but fitful times since
then. This pleurisy, though but a slight affair in itself, was a huge
disappointment to me, and marked an epoch. To start a pleurisy about
nothing, while leading a dull, regular life in a mild climate, was not
my habit in past days; and it is six years, all but a few months, since
I was obliged to spend twenty-four hours in bed. I may be wrong, but if
the niting is to continue, I believe I must go. It is a pity in one
sense, for I believe the class of work I _might_ yet give out is better
and more real and solid than people fancy. But death is no bad friend; a
few aches and gasps, and we are done; like the truant child, I am
beginning to grow weary and timid in this big jostling city, and could
run to my nurse, even although she should have to whip me before putting
me to bed.

Will you kiss your little daughter from me, and tell her that her father
has written a delightful poem about her? Remember me, please, to Mrs.
Gosse, to Middlemore, to whom some of these days I will write, to ----,
to ----, yes, to ----, and to ----. I know you will gnash your teeth at
some of these; wicked, grim, catlike old poet. If I were God, I would
sort you--as we say in Scotland.--Your sincere friend,

R. L. S.

"Too young to be our child": blooming good.

TO SIDNEY COLVIN

_Monterey [December 1879]._

MY DEAR COLVIN,--I have been down with pleurisy but now convalesce; it
was a slight attack, but I had a hot fever; pulse 150; and the thing
reminds me of my weakness. These miseries tell on me cruelly. But things
are not so hopeless as they might be so I am far from despair. Besides I
think I may say I have some courage for life.

But now look here:

Fables and Tales

Story of a Lie 100 pp. like the Donkey.
Providence and the Guitar 52
Will o' the Mill 45
A Lodging for the Night 40 (about)
Sieur de Maletroit's Door