to Charles Baxter

[Vailima], April 17, ’94.

MY DEAR CHARLES,—St. Ives is now well on its way into the second volume.  There remains no mortal doubt that it will reach the three volume standard.

I am very anxious that you should send me—

1st.  Tom and Jerry, a cheap edition.

2nd.  The book by Ashton—the Dawn of the Century, I think it was called—which Colvin sent me, and which has miscarried, and

3rd.  If it is possible, a file of the Edinburgh Courant for the years 1811, 1812, 1813, or 1814.  I should not care for a whole year.  If it were possible to find me three months, winter months by preference, it would do my business not only for St. Ives, but for the Justice-Clerk as well.  Suppose this to be impossible, perhaps I could get the loan of it from somebody; or perhaps it would be possible to have some one read a file for me and make notes.  This would be extremely bad, as unhappily one man’s food is another man’s poison, and the reader would probably leave out everything I should choose.  But if you are reduced to that, you might mention to the man who is to read for me that balloon ascensions are in the order of the day.

4th.  It might be as well to get a book on balloon ascension, particularly in the early part of the century.

. . . . .

III.  At last this book has come from Scribner, and, alas!  I have the first six or seven chapters of St. Ives to recast entirely.  Who could foresee that they clothed the French prisoners in yellow?  But that one fatal fact—and also that they shaved them twice a week—damns the whole beginning.  If it had been sent in time, it would have saved me a deal of trouble. . . .

I have had a long letter from Dr. Scott Dalgleish, 25 Mayfield Terrace, asking me to put my name down to the Ballantyne Memorial Committee.  I have sent him a pretty sharp answer in favour of cutting down the memorial and giving more to the widow and children.  If there is to be any foolery in the way of statues or other trash, please send them a guinea; but if they are going to take my advice and put up a simple tablet with a few heartfelt words, and really devote the bulk of the subscriptions to the wife and family, I will go to the length of twenty pounds, if you will allow me (and if the case of the family be at all urgent), and at least I direct you to send ten pounds.  I suppose you had better see Scott Dalgleish himself on the matter.  I take the opportunity here to warn you that my head is simply spinning with a multitude of affairs, and I shall probably forget a half of my business at last.

R. L. S.