sible joy at the prospect of living
under their own rooftree, and at once plunged with ardour into the
business of furnishing and gardening. The first thing was to change
the name of the place to Skerryvore, in honour of the best known of
the lighthouses built by the Stevenson family, the name being partly
suggested by the fact that a distant view of the sea was to be had
from the upper windows.

Skerryvore was a pleasant, ivy-covered brick cottage, surrounded by a
half-acre of garden, which has been so delightfully described by
William Archer in the _Critic_ of November 5, 1887, that one can do no
better than quote his words:

"Though only a few paces from the public road, it is thoroughly
secluded. Its front faces southward (away from the road) and overlooks
a lawn,

'Linnet haunted garden ground,
Where still the esculents abound.'

"The demesne extends over the edge, and almost to the bottom of the
Chine; and here, amid laurel and rhododendron, broom and gorse, the
garden merges into a network of paths and stairways, with tempting
seats and unexpected arbors at every turn. This seductive little
labyrinth is of Mrs. Stevenson's own designing. She makes the whole
garden her special charge and delight, but this particular corner of
it is as a kingdom conquered, where to reign. Mrs. Stevenson, the
tutelary genius of Skerryvore, is a woman of small physical stature
but surely of heroic mould. Her features are clear cut and delicate,
but marked by unmistakable strength of character; her hair is an
unglossy black, and her complexion darker than one would expect in a
woman of Dutch extraction.... Her personality, no less than her
husband's, impresses itself potently on all who have the good fortune
to be welcomed at Skerryvore."

Writing to her mother-in-law from Bournemouth, she says:

"I have just been going the rounds of my garden, and have brought in
as a sentimental reminder of you the first marguerite,[25] which I
will enclose in this letter. The weather is like paradise, the sun is
shining, the birds are singing, and Louis is walking up and down in
front of the house with a red umbrella over his head, enjoying the
day.... I could only ask one thing more to have the most perfect life
that any woman could have, and that is, of course, good health for
Louis.... I should be perfectly appalled if I were asked to exchange
his faults for other people's virtues."

[Footnote 25: The elder lad