habit its
recesses; the mailed cockroach walks upon the wall; so also, I regret to
say, the scorpion. Herein are two pallet beds, two mosquito curtains,
strung to the pitch-boards of the roof, two tables laden with books and
manuscripts, three chairs, and, in one of the beds, the Squire busy
writing to yourself, as it chances, and just at this moment somewhat
bitten by mosquitoes. He has just set fire to the insect powder, and
will be all right in no time; but just now he contemplates large white
blisters, and would like to scratch them, but knows better. The house is
not bare; it has been inhabited by Kanakas, and--you know what children
are!--the bare wood walls are pasted over with pages from the _Graphic_,
_Harper's Weekly_, etc. The floor is matted, and I am bound to say the
matting is filthy. There are two windows and two doors, one of which is
condemned; on the panels of that last a sheet of paper is pinned up, and
covered with writing. I cull a few plums:--

"A duck-hammock for each person.
A patent organ like the commandant's at Taiohae.
Cheap and bad cigars for presents.
Revolvers.
Permanganate of potass.
Liniment for the head and sulphur.
Fine tooth-comb."

What do you think this is? Simply life in the South Seas foreshortened.
These are a few of our desiderata for the next trip, which we jot down
as they occur.

There, I have really done my best and tried to send something like a
letter--one letter in return for all your dozens. Pray remember us all
to yourself, Mrs. Boodle, and the rest of your house. I do hope your
mother will be better when this comes. I shall write and give you a new
address when I have made up my mind as to the most probable, and I do
beg you will continue to write from time to time and give us airs from
home. To-morrow--think of it--I must be off by a quarter to eight to
drive in to the palace and breakfast with his Hawaiian Majesty at 8.30:
I shall be dead indeed. Please give my news to Scott, I trust he is
better; give him my warm regards. To you we all send all kinds of
things, and I am the absentee Squire,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO CHARLES BAXTER

_Honolulu, April 1889._

MY DEAR CHARLES,--As usual, your letter is as good as a cordial, and I
thank you for it, and all your care, kindness, and generous and
thoughtful friendship, from my heart. I was truly glad to hear a word of
Colvin, whose long silence has terrified me; and glad