. Stevensoniana; an anecdotal life and appreciation of Robert Louis Stevenson. Edited from the writings of Barrie [and others]. drawing-room, which has come to be a collectorsjoy and treasure. His first Colinton and Swanston days?There she put one right: it was not in the manse but at thehill-farm that he wrote The Pentland Rising. And as onetold over the names which he has immortalised, she put in oneshands the view of each place—to linger over Halkerside as ascene consecrated to a double memory, for there were the rock-engraven initials both of father and son. And the portraits?Ah! it g
. Stevensoniana; an anecdotal life and appreciation of Robert Louis Stevenson. Edited from the writings of Barrie [and others]. drawing-room, which has come to be a collectorsjoy and treasure. His first Colinton and Swanston days?There she put one right: it was not in the manse but at thehill-farm that he wrote The Pentland Rising. And as onetold over the names which he has immortalised, she put in oneshands the view of each place—to linger over Halkerside as ascene consecrated to a double memory, for there were the rock-engraven initials both of father and son. And the portraits?Ah! it goes to ones heart to think how Mrs. Stevenson spokeof them. Was she not a true mother, in holding that mostlikenesses represented poor Louis as more of an invalid than hewas, and pronouncing in favour of that Samoan photograph,taken in his riding things, which showed him robust andathletic ? The haunting lines of that LTnderwoods poem come back—It is not yours, O mother, to complain—and its companionpiece, Mater Triumphans. Collate them: let the tropicintensity of the one harmonise with the stately cadence of the ~ ^^rp. NO. 8 UUWAUU ILACK, KUIXULUGIIWhere II. L. iSteveiuoa was born, 13th November 1860 [Falrick [To J net page 8 HIS FOREBEARS 9 other; and what is your final reflection ? Why, an utterance ofthanks. For the singer of great destinies, the achiever of deedsequalling those he sang—he who with pen did open morethan the doors of kings, who thrilled with the joy of girdedmen others that could tell no more than he of having • Wielded in the front of warThe weapons tliat he made — this true inspirer of the modern world had not, after all, tobreak with the ties of which his verses spoke. The poem firstnamed,in particular, is something more than the universal mothersconsolation against the universal complaint of the proverb, asons a son till he gets a wife. It is something more than amelodious voice of comfort to those mothers whose sons—in ourEmpire especiall
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