Vermont；　United　States　of　America；　was　born；　out　of　all　　reason；　upon　Christmas　Day；　and　is；　therefore；　out　of　all　justice；　　denied　the　consolation　and　profit　of　a　proper　birthday；
  And　considering　that　I；　the　said　Robert　Louis　Stevenson；　have　　attained　the　age　when　we　never　mention　it；　and　that　I　have　now　no　　further　use　for　a　birthday　of　any　description；
  And　in　consideration　that　I　have　met　H。　C。　Ide；　the　father　of　the　　said　Annie　H。　Ide；　and　found　him　as　white　a　land　commissioner　as　I　　require；　I　have　transferred；　and　do　hereby　transfer；　to　the　said　　Annie　H。　Ide；　all　and　whole　of　my　rights　and　privileges　in　the　13th　　day　of　November；　formerly　my　birthday；　now；　hereby　and　henceforth；　　the　birthday　of　the　said　Annie　H。　Ide；　to　have；　hold；　exercise；　and　　enjoy　the　same　in　the　customary　manner；　by　the　sporting　of　fine　　raiment；　eating　of　rich　meats；　and　receipt　of　gifts；　compliments；　　and　copies　of　verse；　according　to　the　manner　of　our　ancestors；
  And　I　direct　the　said　Annie　H。　Ide　to　add　to　the　said　name　of　Annie　　H。　Ide　the　name　of　Louisa　…　at　least　in　private　…　and　I　charge　her　　to　use　my　said　birthday　with　moderation　and　humanity；　ET　TAMQUAM　　BONA　FILIA　FAMILIAS；　the　said　birthday　not　being　so　young　as　it　　once　was　and　having　carried　me　in　a　very　satisfactory　manner　since　　I　can　remember；
  And　in　case　the　said　Annie　H。　Ide　shall　neglect　or　contravene　　either　of　the　above　conditions；　I　hereby　revoke　the　donation　and　　transfer　my　rights　in　the　said　birthday　to　the　President　of　the　　United　States　of　America　for　the　time　being。
  In　witness　whereof　I　have　hereto　set　my　hand　and　seal　this　19th　day　　of　June；　in　the　year　of　grace　eighteen　hundred　and　ninety…one。
  ROBERT　LOUIS　STEVENSON。　＇Seal。＇　WITNESS；　LLOYD　OSBOURNE。　WITNESS；　HAROLD　WATTS。
  He　died　in　Samoa　in　December　1894　…　not　from　phthisis　or　anything　　directly　connected　with　it；　but　from　the　bursting　of　a　blood…vessel　　and　suffusion　of　blood　on　the　brain。　　He　had　up　to　the　moment　　almost　of　his　sudden　and　unexpected　death　been　busy　on　WEIR　OF　　HERMISTON　and　ST　IVES；　which　he　left　unfinished　…　the　latter　having　　been　brought　to　a　conclusion　by　Mr　Quiller…Couch。
  CHAPTER　IX　…　SOME　CHARACTERISTICS
  IN　Stevenson　we　lost　one　of　the　most　powerful　writers　of　our　day；　　as　well　as　the　most　varied　in　theme　and　style。　　When　I　use　the　word　　〃powerful；〃　I　do　not　mean　merely　the　producing　of　the　most　striking　　or　sensational　results；　nor　the　facility　of　weaving　a　fascinating　　or　blood…curdling　plot；　I　mean　the　writer　who　seemed　always　to　have　　most　in　reserve　…　a　secret　fund　of　power　and　fascination　which　　always　pointed　beyond　the　printed　page；　and　set　before　the　　attentive　and　careful　reader　a　strange　but　fascinating　PERSONALITY。　　　Other　authors　have　done　that　in　measure。　　There　was　Hawthorne；　　behind　whose　writings　there　is　always　the　wistful；　cold；　far…　withdrawn　spectator　of　human　nature　…　eerie；　inquisitive；　and；　I　　had　almost　said；　inquisitorial　…　a　little　bloodless；　eerie；　weird；　　and　cobwebby。　　There　was　Dr　Wendell　Holmes；　with　his　problems　of　　heredity；　of　race…mixture　and　weird　inoculation；　as　in　ELSIE　VENNER　　and　THE　GUARDIAN　ANGEL；　and　there　were　Poe　and　Charles　Whitehead。　　　Stevenson；　in　a　few　of　his　writings　…　in　one　of　the　MERRY　MEN　　chapters　and　in　DR　JEKYLL　AND　MR　HYDE；　and；　to　some　extent；　in　THE　　MASTER　OF　BALLANTRAE　…　showed　that　he　could　enter　on　the　obscure　　and；　in　a　sense；　weird　and　metaphysical　elements　in　human　life；　　though　always　there　was；　too；　a　touch　at　least　of　gloomy　　suggestion；　from　which；　as　it　seemed；　he　could　not　there　wholly　　escape。　　But　always；　too；　there　was　a　touch　that　suggests　the　　universal。
  Even　in　the　stories　that　would　be　classed　as　those　of　incident　and　　adventure　merely；　TREASURE　ISLAND；　KIDNAPPED；　and　the　rest；　there　　is　a　sense　as　of　some　unaffected　but　fine　symbolism　that　somehow　　touches　something　of　possibility　in　yourself　as　you　read。　　The　　simplest　narrative　from　his　hand　proclaimed　itself　a　deep　study　in　　human　nature　…　its　motives　tendencies；　and　possibilities。　　In　these　　stories　there　is　promise　at　once　of　the　most　realistic　imagination；　　the　most　fantastic　romance；　keen　insights　into　some　sides　of　human　　nature；　and　weird　fancies；　as　well　as　the　most　delicate　and　dainty　　pictures　of　character。　　And　this　is　precisely　what　we　have　…　always　　with　a　vein　of　the　finest　autobiography　…　a　kind　of　select　and　　indirect　self…revelation　…　often　with　a　touch　of　quaintness；　a　　subdued　humour；　and　sweet…blooded　vagary；　if　we　may　be　allowed　the　　word；　which　make　you　feel　towards　the　writer　as　towards　a　friend。　　　He　was　too　much　an　artist　to　overdo　this；　and　his　strength　lies　　there；　that　generally　he　suggests　and　turns　away　at　the　right　　point；　with　a　smile；　as　you　ask　for　MORE。　　Look　how　he　sets；　half　　slyly；　these　words　into　the　mouth　of　David　Balfour　on　his　first　　meeting　with　Catriona　in　one　of　the　steep　wynds　or　closes　off　the　　High　Street　of　Edinburgh：
  〃There　is　no　greater　wonder　than　the　way　the　face　of　a　young　woman　　fits　in　a　man's　mind；　and　stays　there；　and　he　never　could　tell　you　　why：　　it　just　seems　it　was　the　thing　he　wanted。〃
  Take　this　alongside　of　his　remark　made　to　his　mother　while　still　a　　youth　…　〃that　he　did　not　care　to　understand　the　strain　on　a　bridge〃　　（when　he　tried　to　study　engineering）；　what　he　wanted　was　something　　with　human　nature　in　it。　　His　style；　in　his　essays；　etc。；　where　he　　writes　in　his　own　person；　is　most　polished；　full　of　phrases　finely　　drawn；　when　he　speaks　through　others；　as　in　KIDNAPPED　and　DAVID　　BALFOUR；　it　is　still　fine　and　effective；　and　generally　it　is　fairly　　true　to　the　character；　with　cunning　glimpses；　nevertheless；　of　his　　own　temper　and　feeling　too。　　He　makes　us　feel　his　confidants　and　　friends；　as　has　been　said。　　One　could　almost　construct　a　biography　　from　his　essays　and　his　novels　…　the　one　would　give　us　the　facts　of　　his　life　suffused　with　fancy　and　ideal　colour；　humour　and　fine　　observation　not　wanting；　the　other　would　give　us　the　history　of　his　　mental　and　moral　being　and　development；　and　of　the　traits　and　　determinations　which　he　drew　from　along　a　lengthened　line　of　　progenitors。　　How　characteristic　it　is　of　him　…　a　man　who　for　so　　many　years　suffered　as　an　invalid　…　that　he　should　lay　it　down　that　　the　two　great　virtues；　including　all　others；　were　cheerfulness　and　　delight　in　labour。
  One　writer　has　very　well　said　on　this　feature　in　Stevenson：
  〃Other　authors　have　struggled　bravely　against　physical　weakness；　　but　their　work　has　not　usually　been　of　a　creative　order；　dependent　　for　its　success　on　high　animal　spirits。　　They　have　written　　histories；　essays；　contemplative　or　didactic　poems；　works　which　may　　more　or　less　be　regarded　as　'dull　narcotics　numbing　pain。'　　But　　who；　in　so　fragile　a　frame　as　Robert　Louis　Stevenson's；　has　　retained　such　indomitable　elasticity；　such　fertility　of　invention；　　such　unflagging　energy；　not　merely　to　collect　and　arrange；　but　to　　project　and　body　forth？　　Has　any　true　'maker'　been　such　an　　incessant　sufferer？　　From　his　childhood；　as　he　himself　said　apropos　　of　the　CHILD'S　GARDEN；　he　could　'speak　with　less　authority　of　　gardens　than　of　that　other　〃land　of　counterpane。〃'　　There　were；　　indeed；　a　few　years　of　adolescence　during　which　his　health　was　　tolerable；　but　they　were　years　of　apprenticeship　to　life　and　art　　（'pioching；'　as　he　called　it）；　not　of　serious　production。　　Though　　he　was　a　precocious　child；　his　genius　ripened　slowly；　and　it　was　　just　reaching　maturity　when　the　'wolverine；'　as　he　called　his　　disease；　fixed　its　fangs　in　his　flesh。　　From　that　time　forward　not　　only　did　he　live　with　death　at　his　elbow　in　an　almost　literal　sense　　（he　used　to　carry　his　left　arm　in　a　sling　lest　a　too　sudden　　movement　should　bring　on　a　haemorrhage）；　but　he　had　ever…recurring　　intervals　of　weeks　and　months　during　which　he　was　totally　unfit　for　　work；　while　even　at　the　best　of　times　he　had　to　husband　his　　strength　most　jealously。　　Add　to　all　this　that　he　was　a　slow　and　　laborious　writer；　who　would　take　more　pains　with　a　phrase　than　　Scott　with　a　chapter　…　then　look　at　the　stately　shelf　of　his　works；　　brimful　of　impulse；　initiative；　and　the　joy　of　life；　and　say　　whether　it　be　an　exaggeration　to　call　his　tenacity　and　fortitude　　unique！〃
  Samoa；　with　its　fine　climate；　prolonged　his　life　…　we　had　fain　　hoped　that　in　that　air　he　found　so　favourable　he　might　have　lived　　for　many　years；　to　add　to　the　precious　stock　of　innocent　delight　he　　has　given　to　the　world　…　to　do　yet　more　and　greater。　　It　was　not　to　　be。　　They　buried　him；　with　full　native　honours　as　to　a　chief；　on　　the　top　of　Vaea　mountain；　1300　feet　high　…　a　road　for　the　coffin　to　　pass　being　cut　through　the　woods　on　the　slopes　of　the　hill。　　There　　he　has　a　resting…place　not　all　unfit　…　for　he　sought　the　pure　and　　clearer　air　on　the　heights　from　whence　there　are　widest　prospects；　　yet　not　in　the　spot　he　would　have　chosen　…　for　his　heart　was　at　　home；　and　not　very　long　before　his　death　he　sang；　surely　with　　pathetic　reference　now：
  〃Spring　shall　come；　come　again；　calling　up　the　moorfowl；　Spring　shall　bring　the　sun　and　rain；　bring　the　bees　and　flowers；　Red　shall　the　heather　bloom　over　hill　and　valley；　Soft　flow　the　stream　thro'　the　even…flowing　hours；　Fair　the　day　shine；　as　it