p,
and if so, how much. I can see the year through without help, I believe,
and supposing my health to keep up; but can scarce make this change on
my own metal.

R. L. S.

TO CHARLES BAXTER

[_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 1886._]

DEAR CHARLES,--Doubtless, if all goes well, towards the 1st of August we
shall be begging at your door. Thanks for a sight of the papers, which I
return (you see) at once, fearing further responsibility.

Glad you like Dauvit; but eh, man, yon's terrible strange conduc' o'
thon man Rankeillor. Ca' him a legal adviser! It would make a bonny
law-shuit, the Shaws case; and yon paper they signed, I'm thinking,
wouldnae be muckle thought o' by Puggy Deas.--Yours ever,

R. L. S.

TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM

Hecky was a dog belonging to his correspondent's brother. Stevenson
was always interested by his own retentiveness of memory for childish
things, and here asks Cummy some questions to test the quality of
hers.

[_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 1886._]

MY DEAR CUMMY,--I was sorry to get so poor account of you and Hecky.
Fanny thinks perhaps it might be Hecky's teeth. Sir Walter Simpson has a
very clever vet. I have forgotten his name; but if you like, I send a
card and you or James might ask the address.

Now to what is more important. Do you remember any of the following
names: Lady Boothroyd, Barny Gee, Andrew Silex, the Steward, Carus
Rearn, Peter Mangles, Richard Markham, Fiddler Dick? Please let me know
and I will tell you how I come to ask. I warn you, you will have to cast
back your eyes a good long way, close upon thirty years, before you
strike the trail on which I wish to lead you.

When I have had an answer I will write you a decent letter. To-day,
though nothing much is wrong with me, I am out of sorts and most
disinclined for writing.--Yours most affectionately,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO THOMAS STEVENSON

"Coolin," mentioned below, had been a favourite Skye terrier of
Heriot Row days.

[_Skerryvore, Bournemouth_] _July 28, 1886._

MY DEAR FATHER,--We have decided not to come to Scotland, but just to do
as Dobell wished, and take an outing. I believe this is wiser in all
ways; but I own it is a disappointment. I am weary of England; like
Alan, "I weary for the heather," if not for the deer. Lloyd has gone to
Scilly with Katharine and C., where and with whom he should have a good
time. _David_ se