thrown into great perplexity, could do nothing but murmur, why these things were done to such a family.  I could not rest, but at midnight, whether spoken [or not] it was presented to my mind—­ “Those whom ye deplore are walking with me in white.”  I conclude from this the Lord saying to sweet Mrs. Stevenson:  “I gave them to be brought up for me:  well done, good and faithful! they are fully prepared, and now I must present them to my father and your father, to my God and your God."’

It would be hard to lay on flattery with a more sure and daring hand.  I quote it as a model of a letter of condolence; be sure it would console.  Very different, perhaps quite as welcome, is this from a lighthouse inspector to my grandfather: 

’In reading your letter the trickling tear ran down ray cheeks in silent sorrow for your departed dear ones, my sweet little friends.  Well do I remember, and you will call to mind, their little innocent and interesting stories.  Often have they come round me and taken me by the hand, but alas!  I am no more destined to behold them.’

The child who is taken becomes canonised, and the looks of the homeliest babe seem in the retrospect ’heavenly the three last days of his life.’  But it appears that James and Mary had indeed been children more than usually engaging; a record was preserved a long while in the family of their remarks and ’little innocent and interesting stories,’ and the blow and the blank were the more sensible.

Early the next month Robert Stevenson must proceed upon his voyage of inspection, part by land, part by sea.  He left his wife plunged in low spirits; the thought of his loss, and still more of her concern, was continually present in his mind, and he draws in his letters home an interesting picture of his family relations: 

’Windygates Inn, Monday (Postmark July 16th)

’My dearest Jeannie,—­While the people of the inn are getting me a little bit of something to eat, I sit down to tell you that I had a most excellent passage across the water, and got to Wemyss at mid-day.  I hope the children will be very good, and that Robert will take a course with you to learn his Latin lessons daily; he may, however, read English in company.  Let them have strawberries on Saturdays.’

’Westhaven, 17th July.

’I have been occupied to-day at the harbour of Newport, opposite Dundee, and am this far on my way to Arbroath.  You may tell the boys that I slept last night in Mr. Steadman’s tent.  I found my bed rather hard, but the lodgings were otherwise extremely comfortable.  The encampment is on the Fife side of the Tay, immediately opposite to Dundee.  From the door of the tent you command the most beautiful view of the Firth, both up and down, to a great extent.  At night all was serene and still, the sky presented the most beautiful appearance of bright stars, and the morning was ushered in with the song of many little birds.’