at home in Scotland.... The
pipe is right again; it was the springs that had rusted, and ought to
have been oiled. Its voice is now that of an angel; but, Lord! here in
the club I dare not wake it! Conceive my impatience to be in my own
backwoods and raise the sound of minstrelsy. What pleasures are to be
compared with those of the Unvirtuous Virtuoso.--Yours ever
affectionately, the Unvirtuous Virtuoso,

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.

TO SIDNEY COLVIN

To try and recover from the effects of his illness at Sydney,
Stevenson determined to take another voyage; and started accordingly
in April with his party on a trading steamer, the _Janet Nicoll_,
which took him by a long and devious course among many groups of
islands that he had not yet visited, returning to Sydney in August by
way of New Caledonia. On the first night out of Auckland harbour the
voyage nearly came to a premature end through the blowing up of some
trade fireworks, or materials for fireworks, which had been packed in
the stateroom.

_S.S. Janet Nicoll, off Upolu [Spring 1890]._

MY DEAREST COLVIN,--I was sharply ill at Sydney, cut off, right out of
bed, in this steamer on a fresh island cruise, and have already reaped
the benefit. We are excellently found this time, on a spacious vessel,
with an excellent table; the captain, supercargo, our one
fellow-passenger, etc., very nice; and the charterer, Mr. Henderson, the
very man I could have chosen. The truth is, I fear, this life is the
only one that suits me; so long as I cruise in the South Seas, I shall
be well and happy--alas, no, I do not mean that, and _absit omen_!--I
mean that, so soon as I cease from cruising, the nerves are strained,
the decline commences, and I steer slowly but surely back to bedward. We
left Sydney, had a cruel rough passage to Auckland, for the _Janet_ is
the worst roller I was ever aboard of. I was confined to my cabin,
ports closed, self shied out of the berth, stomach (pampered till the
day I left on a diet of perpetual egg-nogg) revolted at ship's food and
ship eating, in a frowsy bunk, clinging with one hand to the plate, with
the other to the glass, and using the knife and fork (except at
intervals) with the eyelid. No matter: I picked up hand over hand. After
a day in Auckland, we set sail again; were blown up in the main cabin
with calcium fires, as we left the bay. Let no man say I am
unscientific: when I ran, on the alert,