isfaction
which we in colder climes can only dream of; or in another a few bold
strokes pictured the ladies of the family on household cares intent,
domestic service of the humblest, cooking, dusting, bed-making, and all
the trivial daily doings that were so mirthfully treated both by pen and
pencil.

Mr Stevenson and his wife took a keen interest in their garden, which
stood so high above sea-level, that they could have the pleasure of
trying to grow in it some British flowers, fruits, and vegetables, as
well as those native to the tropics. This endeavour to naturalise the
products of the old home in the new one was a great pleasure to Mrs
Stevenson, and one fully shared by her husband, who was so often, in
spite of his delight in the soft airs, the blue skies, heart-sick for
the cold grey ones of the old country, and who was reminded on a fresh
wet morning after a storm, of the West Highlands, near Callander, and

'The smell of bog, myrtle and peat,'

by the rain dashing on the roof, and trickling down the window panes, of
far-off misty Scotland, where

'On the moors the whaups are calling.'

The Samoan days were very full of work, and much was done, and still
more was planned in them by Mr Stevenson's busy brain and untiring
activity. Here was written _Catriona_, _The Master of Ballantrae_, a
part of those annals of the Stevenson family which he hoped to give to
the public, _The Beach of Falesa_, _The Bottle Imp_, and _The Isle of
Voices_; and with Mr Lloyd Osbourne was completed _The Ebb Tide_ and
_The Wrecker_, the ideas for which had occurred to them when at sea.

_Father Damien_, _An Open letter_, had been already written, but here
was composed _A Footnote to History_, and both show to perfection their
writer's interest in suffering humanity. Here, saddest of all, were
planned many works never to be accomplished--among them that powerful
fragment _Weir of Hermiston_ and _St Ives_--the latter finished all but
the last portion, which Mrs Strong, who had helped much with this story,
could supply to Mr Quiller Couch, so that he was enabled to complete it.
Mr Stevenson, like his father, found his relaxation in a change of work,
so to this period also belong the fugitive verses collected under the
title, _Songs of Travel_, published after his death.

In spite of the apparent improvement in his health, Mr Stevenson had
had, especially when for a short time at Sydney and Honolulu, serious
return