588 Professor Walter Baleigh [May 17, 



Stevenson had both these sensitive capabilities in a very high 

 degree. His careful choice of epithet and name have even been 

 criticised as lending to some of his narrative-writing an excessive air 

 of deliberation. His daintiness of diction is best seen in his earlier 

 work ; thereafter his writing became more vigorous and direct, fitter 

 for its later uses, but never unillumined by felicities that cause a 

 thrill of pleasure to the reader. Of the value of words he had the 

 acutest appreciation. * Yirginibus Puerisque,' his first book of essays, 

 is crowded with happy hits and subtle implications conveyed in a 

 single word. "We have all heard," he says in one of these, "of 

 cities in South America built upon the side of fiery mountains, and 

 how, even in this tremendous neighbourhood, the inhabitants are not 

 a jot more impressed by the solemnity of mortal conditions than if 

 they were delving gardens in the greenest corner of England." You 

 can feel the ground shake and see the volcano tower above you at 

 that word " tremendous neighbourhood." Something of the same 

 double reference to the original and acquired meanings of a word is 

 to be found in such a phrase as " sedate electrician," for one who in 

 a back office wields all the lights of a city ; or in that description of 

 one drawing near to death, who is spoken of as groping already with 

 his hands " on the face of the impassable.'" The likeness of this last 

 word to a very different word, " impassive" is made to do good literary 

 service in suggesting the sphinx-like image of death. Sometimes, as 

 here, this subtle sense of double meanings almost leads to punning. 

 In ' Across the Plains ' Stevenson narrates how a bet was transacted 

 at a railway station, and subsequently, he supposes, " liquidated at 

 the bar." This is perhaps an instance of the excess of a virtue, but 

 it is an excess to be found plentifully in the works of Milton. 



His loving regard for words bears good fruit in his later and 

 more stirring works. He has a quick ear and appreciation for live 

 phrases on the lips of tramps, beach-combers, or Americans. In 

 * The Beach of Falesa ' the sea captain who introduces the new trader 

 to the South Pacific island, where the scene of the story is laid, 

 gives a brief description of the fate of the last dealer in copra. It 

 may serve as a single illustration of volumes of racy, humorous, and 

 imaginative slang : — 



" ' Do you catch a bit of white there to the east'ard ? " the captain 

 continued. * That's your house. . . . When old Adams saw it he 

 took and shook me by the hand. " I've dropped into a soft thing 

 here," says he. " So you have," says I. . . . Poor Johnny ! I never 

 saw him again but the once . . . and the next time we came round 

 there he was dead and buried. I took and put up a bit of a stick to 

 him : " John Adams, obit eighteen and sixty-eight. Go thou and do 

 likewise." I miss that man. I never could see much harm in Johnny.' 



" ' What did he die of ? ' I inquired. 



" ' Some kind of sickness,' says the captain. ' It appears it took 

 him sudden. Seems he got up in the night, and filled up on Pain 

 Killer and Kennedy's Discovery. No go — he was booked beyond 



