But what, my Dew, in idle mood,
What prate I, minding not my debt?
What do I talk of bad or good?
The best is still a cigarette.
Me whether evil fate assault,
Or smiling providences crown—
Whether on high the eternal vault
Be blue, or crash with thunder down—
I judge the best, whate’er befall,
Is still to sit on one’s behind,
And, having duly moistened all,
Smoke with an unperturbèd mind.
R. L. S.
to Thomas Stevenson
[Hotel Belvedere], Davos, December 12 [1880].
MY DEAR FATHER,—Here is the scheme as well as I can foresee. I begin the book immediately after the ’15, as then began the attempt to suppress the Highlands.
I. Thirty Years’ Interval
(1) Rob Roy.
(2) The Independent Companies: the Watches.