And now, dear minister of the illegible name, thanks to you, and greeting to your wife, and may you have good guidance in your difficult labours, and a blessing on your life.
Robert Louis Stevenson.
(No just sae young’s he was, though—
I’m awfae near forty, man.)
Address c/o Charles Scribner’s Sons,
743 Broadway, New York.
Don’t put “N.B.” in your paper: put Scotland, and be done with it. Alas, that I should be thus stabbed in the home of my friends! The name of my native land is not North Britain, whatever may be the name of yours.
R. L. S.
To Miss Ferrier