rt story of mine, some 50,000 words, I think,
_The Beach of Falesa_; when he's done with it, I want you and Cassell to
bring it out in a little volume; I shall send you a dedication for it; I
believe it good; indeed, to be honest, very good. Good gear that pleases
the merchant.

The other map that I half threaten is a chart for the hurricane. Get me
Kimberley's report of the hurricane: not to be found here. It is of most
importance; I _must_ have it with my proofs of that part, if I cannot
have it earlier, which now seems impossible.--Yours in hot haste,

R. L. STEVENSON.

TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE

At the news that his correspondent was occupied teaching and
entertaining a class of children in a Kilburn basement, Stevenson
bethinks himself of helping her by writing an account of Samoa and
Samoan life for children.

_Vailima, January 4th, 1892._

MY DEAR ADELAIDE,--We were much pleased with your letter and the news of
your employment. Admirable, your method. But will you not run dry of
fairy stories? Please salute your pupils, and tell them that a long,
lean, elderly man who lives right through on the under side of the
world, so that down in your cellar you are nearer him than the people in
the street, desires his compliments. This man lives in an island which
is not very long, and extremely narrow. The sea beats round it very
hard, so that it is difficult to get to shore. There is only one harbour
where ships come, even that is very wild and dangerous; four ships of
war were broken there a little while ago, and one of them is still lying
on its side on a rock clean above water, where the sea threw it as you
might throw your fiddle bow on the table. All round the harbour the town
is strung out, it is nothing but wooden houses, only there are some
churches built of stone, not very large, but the people have never seen
such fine buildings. Almost all the houses are of one story. Away at one
end lives the king of the whole country. His palace has a thatched roof
which stands upon posts; it has no walls, but when it blows and rains,
they have Venetian blinds which they let down between the posts and make
it very snug. There is no furniture, and the king and queen and the
courtiers sit and eat on the floor, which is of gravel: the lamp stands
there too, and every now and then it is upset. These good folks wear
nothing but a kilt about their waists, unless to go to church or for a
dance, or