to W. Craibe Angus

[Summer 1891.]

DEAR MR. ANGUS,—You can use my letter as you will.  The parcel has not come; pray Heaven the next post bring it safe.  Is it possible for me to write a preface here?  I will try if you like, if you think I must: though surely there are Rivers in Assyria.  Of course you will send me sheets of the catalogue; I suppose it (the preface) need not be long; perhaps it should be rather very short?  Be sure you give me your views upon these points.  Also tell me what names to mention among those of your helpers, and do remember to register everything, else it is not safe.

The true place (in my view) for a monument to Fergusson were the churchyard of Haddington.  But as that would perhaps not carry many votes, I should say one of the two following sites:—First, either as near the site of the old Bedlam as we could get, or, second, beside the Cross, the heart of his city.  Upon this I would have a fluttering butterfly, and, I suggest, the citation,

Poor butterfly, thy case I mourn.

For the case of Fergusson is not one to pretend about.  A more miserable tragedy the sun never shone upon, or (in consideration of our climate) I should rather say refused to brighten.—Yours truly,

Robert Louis Stevenson.

Where Burns goes will not matter.  He is no local poet, like your Robin the First; he is general as the casing air.  Glasgow, as the chief city of Scottish men, would do well; but for God’s sake, don’t let it be like the Glasgow memorial to Knox: I remember, when I first saw this, laughing for an hour by Shrewsbury clock.

R. L. S.