to E. L. Burlingame

[Saranac, February 1888.]

DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,—1.  Of course then don’t use it.  Dear Man, I write these to please you, not myself, and you know a main sight better than I do what is good.  In that case, however, I enclose another paper, and return the corrected proof of Pulvis et Umbra, so that we may be afloat.

2.  I want to say a word as to the Master.  (The Master of Ballantrae shall be the name by all means.)  If you like and want it, I leave it to you to make an offer.  You may remember I thought the offer you made when I was still in England too small; by which I did not at all mean, I thought it less than it was worth, but too little to tempt me to undergo the disagreeables of serial publication.  This tale (if you want it) you are to have; for it is the least I can do for you; and you are to observe that the sum you pay me for my articles going far to meet my wants, I am quite open to be satisfied with less than formerly.  I tell you I do dislike this battle of the dollars.  I feel sure you all pay too much here in America; and I beg you not to spoil me any more.  For I am getting spoiled: I do not want wealth, and I feel these big sums demoralise me.

My wife came here pretty ill; she had a dreadful bad night; to-day she is better.  But now Valentine is ill; and Lloyd and I have got breakfast, and my hand somewhat shakes after washing dishes.—Yours very sincerely,

Robert Louis Stevenson.

P.S.—Please order me the Evening Post for two months.  My subscription is run out.  The Mutiny and Edwardes to hand.