an audacious thing for a man of Louis's health, and intermittent
inspiration, to send in half the "copy," meaning to send the rest later
from Davos. He might not be able, physically, to write--the inspiration
might vanish--and there was John Addington Symonds, eager for him to
write on the "Characters" of Theophrastus! He might as well have
written, or better, on the "Characters" of Sir Thomas Overbury, which
are rather less remote from the ken of the British public than those of
the Greek.

If any young man or woman, not in possession of independent means, reads
these lines of mine, let him or her take warning, and deserting history,
morals, the essay, biography, and shunning anthropology as they would
kippered sturgeon or the devil, cleave only to fiction!

Biography also allured Stevenson--his literary tastes were nearly his
ruin; he wanted, at Davos, to write a "Life of Hazlitt," and at
Bournemouth a biography of Arthur, Duke of Wellington. But time and
strength were lacking; nor have we R. L. S.'s mature opinion of the
strategy and tactics of the victor of Assaye. The Muse of piratical
enterprise returned, and "Treasure Island" reached its haven, with no
applause, in the paper for boys.

In the following May, Messrs. Cassell proposed to publish "Treasure
Island" in book form, being spirited up, I suppose, by Mr. Henley, who
was editing for them "The Magazine of Art," in which Stevenson wrote two
or three articles. (I remember that a letter of my own to "The Editor,"
as Mr. Henley had proudly signed himself, came automatically into the
hands of the General Editor, a clergyman, if I do not err, and that my
observations on the Art of Savages, lighting on the wrong sort of
ground, sprang up and nearly choked Mr. Henley.) Stevenson was already
the victim of the Yankee pirate, whose industry, at least, made his
name, though wrongly spelled, known to the community which later paid
him so well for his work, and displayed for him an enthusiasm of
affectionate admiration.

In 1884 he worked at the often rewritten "Prince Otto," and did a
pot-boiler--"The Black Arrow"--which pleased the boy public of the paper
much better than "Treasure Island." His time, from January, 1883, to
May, 1884, was passed at Hyeres. In the end of November, "Treasure
Island" was published in book form, and was warmly welcomed by the Press
and by such friends of the author as retained, at least in letters, any
smack of youth. It was forced, as f