ed as to the public
good of Edinburgh, and notably interested himself in the restoration of
St Giles, that grand old landmark of national history of which, in its
present condition, Scotland has every reason to be proud.

In such a home as this Robert Louis Stevenson was from early childhood
educated in a deeply-rooted respect for the Bible and the old solemn
teachings which gave to Scotland those 'graves of the martyrs,' of which
he so often writes. The Calvinism of his ancestors, inherited to a
certain extent by his father, softened to him by his mother's sweetness
of nature and brightness of faith, always remained with him something
to be regarded with a tender reverence; and if, as he grew to manhood,
the 'modern spirit' changed and modified his beliefs, so that it might
be said of him, as of so many large natures and earnest souls,

'His God he cabins not in creeds,'

God and religion remained very real to him; and the high ideal of duty
first learned in his childhood's home guided his life to the last.
Robert Fergusson's life and poems interested him greatly, and he often
declared himself drawn to him by a certain spiritual affinity; while,
when suffering from his frequent attacks of distressing illness, he
sometimes thought with dread of Fergusson's sad fate.

Pleasure as well as duty, however, was always made welcome in the
Stevenson home. Mr and Mrs Thomas Stevenson held no stern views of
everyday life, no gayer or brighter household could be found than
theirs. None certainly existed where young folk received a warmer
welcome, whether the family were established for the winter at 17 Heriot
Row, or were spending the summer at Swanston, that delightful nook,
nestling in the shelter of the Pentland hills, where the old-fashioned
flowers had so sweet a scent, the rustic sounds of country life were so
full of charming music, and where the home trio themselves loved

'Every path and every plot,
Every bush of roses,
Every blue forget-me-not
Where the dew reposes.'

Differing much in their natures, but fitting, as it were, closely into
each other's souls and characters, Louis Stevenson's parents early made
for him that ideal of home and of marriage that shows itself from the
first in his writings, just here a line and there a sentence, which
indicates how his thoughts ran, and how, whatever enjoyment he might
take in poking cynicism at women in the abstract, he was full of a