The Bibliotaph: A Portrait Not Wholly Imaginary
The Bibliotaph: His Friends, Scrap-Books, And ‘Bins’
Last Words On The Bibliotaph
A Reading In The Letters Of John Keats
An Elizabethan Novelist
The Autobiography Of A Fair-Minded Man
Concerning A Red Waistcoat
Stevenson: The Vagabond And The Philosopher
Stevenson’s St. Ives
supper. In the proper season this consisted of a bountiful serving of tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, with a glass of lemonade. As a variant upon the beverage he took milk. He was the only man I have known, whether book-hunter or layman, who could sleep peacefully upon a supper of cucumbers and milk.
There is probably no occult relation between first editions and onions. The Bibliotaph was mightily pleased with both: the one, he said, appealed to him æsthetically, the other dietetically. He remarked of some particularly large Spanish onions that there was 'a globular wholesomeness about them which was very gratifying;' and after eating one he observed expansively that he felt 'as if he had swallowed the earth and the fullness thereof.' His easy, good-humored exaggerations and his odd comments upon the viands made him a pleasant table companion: as when he described a Parker House Sultana Roll by saying that 'it looked like the sanguinary output of the whole Crimean war.'