R. L. S.



Letter: TO MRS. SITWELL



17 HERIOT ROW, EDINBURGH, SUNDAY [APRIL 1875].

HERE is my long story: yesterday night, after having supped, I
grew so restless that I was obliged to go out in search of some
excitement. There was a half-moon lying over on its back, and
incredibly bright in the midst of a faint grey sky set with faint
stars: a very inartistic moon, that would have damned a picture.

At the most populous place of the city I found a little boy, three
years old perhaps, half frantic with terror, and crying to every
one for his 'Mammy.' This was about eleven, mark you. People
stopped and spoke to him, and then went on, leaving him more
frightened than before. But I and a good-humoured mechanic came up
together; and I instantly developed a latent faculty for setting
the hearts of children at rest. Master Tommy Murphy (such was his
name) soon stopped crying, and allowed me to take him up and carry
him; and the mechanic and I trudged away along Princes Street to
find his parents. I was soon so tired that I had to ask the
mechanic to carry the bairn; and you should have seen the puzzled
contempt with which he looked at me, for knocking in so soon. He
was a good fellow, however, although very impracticable and