arly please me. I hope my own little introduction
is not egoistic; or rather I do not care if it is. It was that old
gentleman's blood that brought me to Samoa.

By the by, vols. vii., viii., and ix. of Adams's _History_ have never
come to hand; no more have the dictionaries.

Please send me _Stonehenge on the Horse_, _Stories and Interludes_ by
Barry Pain, and _Edinburgh Sketches and Memoirs_ by David Masson. _The
Wrecker_ has turned up. So far as I have seen, it is very satisfactory,
but on pp. 548, 549, there has been a devil of a miscarriage. The two
Latin quotations instead of following each other being separated
(doubtless for printing considerations) by a line of prose. My
compliments to the printers; there is doubtless such a thing as good
printing, but there is such a thing as good sense.

The sequel to _Kidnapped_, _David Balfour_ by name, is about
three-quarters done and gone to press for serial publication. By what I
can find out it ought to be through hand with that and ready for volume
form early next spring.--Yours very sincerely,

R. L. S.

TO ANDREW LANG

Mr. Andrew Lang had been supplying Stevenson with some books and
historical references for his proposed novel _The Young Chevalier_.

[_Vailima, August 1892._]

MY DEAR LANG,--I knew you would prove a trusty purveyor. The books you
have sent are admirable. I got the name of my hero out of Brown--Blair
of Balmyle--Francie Blair. But whether to call the story _Blair of
Balmyle_, or whether to call it _The Young Chevalier_, I have not yet
decided. The admirable Cameronian tract--perhaps you will think this a
cheat--is to be boned into _David Balfour_, where it will fit better,
and really furnishes me with a desired foothold over a boggy place.

_Later_; no, it won't go in, and I fear I must give up "the idolatrous
occupant upon the throne," a phrase that overjoyed me beyond expression.
I am in a deuce of a flutter with politics, which I hate, and in which I
certainly do not shine; but a fellow cannot stand aside and look on at
such an exhibition as our government. 'Tain't decent; no gent can hold a
candle to it. But it's a grind to be interrupted by midnight messengers
and pass your days writing proclamations (which are never proclaimed)
and petitions (which ain't petited) and letters to the Times, which it
makes my jaw yawn to re-read, and all your time have your heart with
David Balfour; he has just left Glasgow this mo