The rain rains and the winds do beat upon the cottage of the late Miss Macgregor and of, sir—Yours affectionately.
It is to be trusted that the weather may improve ere you know the halls of, sir—Yours emphatically.
All will be glad to welcome you, not excepting, sir—Yours ever.
You will now have gathered the lamentable intellectual collapse of, sir—Yours indeed.
And nothing remains for me but to sign myself, sir—Yours,
Robert Louis Stevenson.
N.B.—Each of these clauses has to be read with extreme glibness, coming down whack upon the ‘Sir.’ This is very important. The fine stylistic inspiration will else be lost.
I commit the man who made, the man who sold, and the woman who supplied me with my present excruciating gilt nib to that place where the worm never dies.
The reference to a deceased Highland lady (tending as it does to foster unavailing sorrow) may be with advantage omitted from the address, which would therefore run—The Cottage, Castleton of Braemar.