Stevensonianae
Omnes.**
| A pen broken, a subverted ink-pot. All men are rot; but there are two— Sidney, the oblivious Slade, and you— Who from that rabble stand confest Ten million times the rottenest. |
R. L. S.
| When I was sick and safe in gaol I thought my friends would never fail. One wrote me nothing; t’other bard Sent me an insolent post-card. |
R. L. S.
Terminus: Silentia.**
FINIS Finaliter finium.**
IF NOBODY WRITES TO ME I
SHALL DIE