Underwoods

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Роберт Стивенсон. Underwoods

BOOK I. – In English

I – ENVOY

II – A SONG OF THE ROAD

III – THE CANOE SPEAKS

IV

V – THE HOUSE BEAUTIFUL

VI – A VISIT FROM THE SEA

VII – TO A GARDENER

VIII – TO MINNIE

IX – TO K. DE M

X – TO N. V. DE G. S

XI – TO WILL. H. LOW

XII – TO MRS. WILL. H. LOW

XIII – TO H. F. BROWN

XIV – TO ANDREW LANG

XV – ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI

XVI – TO W. E. HENLEY

XVII – HENRY JAMES

XVIII – THE MIRROR SPEAKS

XIX – KATHARINE

XX – TO F. J. S

XXI – REQUIEM

XXII – THE CELESTIAL SURGEON

XXIII – OUR LADY OF THE SNOWS

XXIV

XXV

XXVI – THE SICK CHILD

XXVII – IN MEMORIAM F. A. S

XXVIII – TO MY FATHER

XXIX – IN THE STATES

XXX – A PORTRAIT

XXXI

XXXII – A CAMP 2

XXXIII – THE COUNTRY OF THE CAMISARDS 3

XXXIV – SKERRYVORE

XXXV – SKERRYVORE: The Parallel

XXXVI

XXXVII

XXXVIII

BOOK II. — In Scots

I – THE MAKER TO POSTERITY

II – ILLE TERRARUM

III

IV – A MILE AN’ A BITTOCK

V – A LOWDEN SABBATH MORN

VI – THE SPAEWIFE

VII – THE BLAST – 1875

VIII – THE COUNTERBLAST – 1886

IX – THE COUNTERBLAST IRONICAL

X – THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB

XI – EMBRO HIE KIRK

XII – THE SCOTSMAN’S RETURN FROM ABROAD

XIII

XIV – MY CONSCIENCE!

XV – TO DOCTOR JOHN BROWN

XVI

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There are men and classes of men that stand above the common herd: the soldier, the sailor and the shepherd not unfrequently; the artist rarely; rarely still, the clergyman; the physician almost as a rule. He is the flower (such as it is) of our civilisation; and when that stage of man is done with, and only remembered to be marvelled at in history, he will be thought to have shared as little as any in the defects of the period, and most notably exhibited the virtues of the race. Generosity he has, such as is possible to those who practise an art, never to those who drive a trade; discretion, tested by a hundred secrets; tact, tried in a thousand embarrassments; and what are more important, Heraclean cheerfulness and courage. So it is that he brings air and cheer into the sickroom, and often enough, though not so often as he wishes, brings healing.

Gratitude is but a lame sentiment; thanks, when they are expressed, are often more embarrassing than welcome; and yet I must set forth mine to a few out of many doctors who have brought me comfort and help: to Dr. Willey of San Francisco, whose kindness to a stranger it must be as grateful to him, as it is touching to me, to remember; to Dr. Karl Ruedi of Davos, the good genius of the English in his frosty mountains; to Dr. Herbert of Paris, whom I knew only for a week, and to Dr. Caissot of Montpellier, whom I knew only for ten days, and who have yet written their names deeply in my memory; to Dr. Brandt of Royat; to Dr. Wakefield of Nice; to Dr. Chepmell, whose visits make it a pleasure to be ill; to Dr. Horace Dobell, so wise in counsel; to Sir Andrew Clark, so unwearied in kindness and to that wise youth, my uncle, Dr. Balfour.

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I forget as many as I remember; and I ask both to pardon me, these for silence, those for inadequate speech. But one name I have kept on purpose to the last, because it is a household word with me, and because if I had not received favours from so many hands and in so many quarters of the world, it should have stood upon this page alone: that of my friend Thomas Bodley Scott of Bournemouth. Will he accept this, although shared among so many, for a dedication to himself? and when next my ill-fortune (which has thus its pleasant side) brings him hurrying to me when he would fain sit down to meat or lie down to rest, will he care to remember that he takes this trouble for one who is not fool enough to be ungrateful?

Skerryvore, Bournemouth.

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