. St. Nicholas [serial]. ouldfind no work and my gold was all gone. I remember how Stevenson brought love andcomradeship to the house full of roomers. Hewas just from Edinburgh, and had come northfrom Monterey. He wore a little brown roughulster, buttoned tight at his neck to protect histhroat from the fogs, and high-laced Scotchbrogues. He was tall and thin and emaciated;but in his deep brown eyes was a glimpse of thestars, and whoever looked into them was the bet-ter for it. He had nt been with us long when yourmother took a turn for the worse. I was by herside night and day. Stevenson came
. St. Nicholas [serial]. ouldfind no work and my gold was all gone. I remember how Stevenson brought love andcomradeship to the house full of roomers. Hewas just from Edinburgh, and had come northfrom Monterey. He wore a little brown roughulster, buttoned tight at his neck to protect histhroat from the fogs, and high-laced Scotchbrogues. He was tall and thin and emaciated;but in his deep brown eyes was a glimpse of thestars, and whoever looked into them was the bet-ter for it. He had nt been with us long when yourmother took a turn for the worse. I was by herside night and day. Stevenson came to me oneevening and asked if he could help. I told him TO REMEMBER STEVENSON 293 Xo; but that did not matter; he insisted on myaccepting money to pay for a specialist; and hebought fruit and delicacies and had Mrs. Carsonfix them for your mother. Each morning he would put on you your blackvelvet hat and coat, and take you down intoPortsmouth Square. While you played on thegrass, he sat and watched the world go by. Often. I-roiu phutoyrapli, by courtesy ot Charles Scribiiers Suii^. ROBERT STEVENSON. he wrote, sitting on the benches in the midst ofthe people he loved. You remember it all, Dacie,my dear, —dont you ? The day came when your mother passed lent me money for the funeral. Afterthe carriages had gone, he stayed with you in thehouse, to spare you a bitter memory. It wasraining, and when I came home, he was readingthis to you, while the rain was rattling on thegreen slat-blinds and an organ man was playingaway across the street. Of speckled eggs the birdie singsAnd nests among the trees ;The sailor sings of ropes and thingsIn ships upon the seas. The children sing in far Japan,The children sing in Spain ;The organ with the organ manIs singing in the rain. In after-time I found out from Mrs. Carsonthat Stevenson had given me his last cerit, andthat he was suffering greatly at the time and wasin deep sorrow. But I did not know it then. Dacia was cryi
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Keywords: ., bookauthordodgemar, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1873
