Collected Letters Volume One: Family Letters 1905–1931. Walter Hooper

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СКАЧАТЬ metre, and very romantic–though perhaps rather ‘sticky’ also. In sympathy with your new investment, having finished ‘Pendennis’ of which I am heartily sick by now, I have begun to read ‘Twelfth Night’ which is a charming little romance, don’t you think? The opening speech about the music is the best.

      Can’t understand it being ‘too hot to practise’ as it is absolute winter here. Bah, there you see I am talking about the weather, like any fool! If I can get away–I haven’t promised, mind–I should be pleased with all my heart to go to Portsalon: indeed whenever (correctly used in this sentence) I have thought of a holiday with you, that place has come into my mind: however, we can discuss all this when we meet–next week. Can you realize? I am so looking forward to seeing you again old man, and I do hope and pray that nothing will turn up to disappoint us. I expect to arrive home on Tuesday: there is some faint danger of my father’s staying at home, but if not, perhaps you could get a day off? Oh, how we will look over all these new books together: I have something ravishing to show you in the way of paper, but that can wait.

      I am writing at present a rather lengthy (for me that is) poem about Hylas, which you shall see if it is a success: but perhaps it will never be finished. By the way, I have come to the Hylas part in the Greek Argonautica. He doesn’t go into it nearly as fully as Morris, but in some ways it is better. In this version the various nymphs–mountains, Oreads, wood nymphs etc., are dancing by moonlight when they hear a mortal blundering through the wood. So they all scatter to their various trees, streams etc., and this particular one, as Hylas bent down to fill his pitcher, caught him round the neck and pulled him down; and so to bed, bon soir tu excessivement pudibonde.

      Jack

       TO ARTHUR GREEVES (LP V: 121-2):

      [Little Lea,

      Strandtown, Belfast] 18/9/16.¹³⁹

      My Dear Galahad,

      It seems a mockery to think that we were talking so lately about how much better we were in our letters than in conversation–I don’t feel like that when I actually sit down to write for the first time. Somehow my being at home instead of at Bookham makes it seem strange to be away from you: it is only so few days ago that we were ragging about together in your bedroom. And now you must brush your teeth alone!

      But first of all I will answer your questions. The journey home was absolutely damnable: I had to wait an hour at Letterkenny, and an hour and a quarter at Strabane. You may judge of my boredom when I tell you that I was reduced to buying a ‘Novel’ magazine¹⁴⁰–because everything else on the bookstall was even more impossible. My father seemed in very poor form when I got home, and fussed a lot about my cold: so everything is beastly, and I have decided–of course–to commit suicide again.

      This morning I visited Mullans on your little job, but their copy of the Kaleva¹⁴¹ was much too old and shop-soiled to satisfy you, while I couldn’t find one in Maynes at all: this being so I didn’t know quite whether you meant me to order one or not–at any rate I did NOT. I am sending you–as a peace offering–a little present, which may arrive by the end of this week: change it if you don’t care for it–or when you have read it.

      I was very much interested in your description of those lakes, tho’ I must say that considering my eager desire to see them, both this year and last, it was particularly kind of you to go just after I had left–but not a word of that to the others. I can quite imagine how fine it must have been–rather like the ‘Star Bath’¹⁴² as I picture them. The mist’s gradual creeping up would have been great. After all, mountain scenery is in some ways the best, isn’t it–excepting our own hills with their exquisite little corners of such homely and ‘intime’ beauty, which are in a different class. How I do wish I could still be with you during the next fortnight! You must let me know whatever you do, and tell me all the funny or exciting ‘adventures’ that turn up, and I won’t feel quite out of it.

      To go back to books: I found my Milton Vol. II waiting at Mullans and am very pleased with it, except that the yellow wrapper is in bad condition and can’t be worn when it is on its shelf. I have also bought a 7d. Macmillan book by Algernon Blackwood called ‘Jimbo, a fantasy’.¹⁴³ Although you have never mentioned it, I dare say you know that there is such a book–I never heard of it myself. I am keeping it to read in the train when I go back (Friday night), but I have to restrain myself every moment–it looks so awfully appetizing. If it turns out to be good, of course I will let you know. What are you reading? Try Phrynette¹⁴⁴ if you can’t get anything else. I am still at The Newcomes and the Faerie Queene, reserving the Milton for next term, while in the mornings in bed I am going over ‘Sense and Sensibility’ again–which I had nearly forgotten. Do you remember Mrs Jennings and Marianne Dashwood and the rest?

      On Sunday night my father and I had supper at Glenmachan, whither came the Hamiltons from Knock. K.[elsie] has a scheme for going down with them and me to Larne for a day, which I hope will come off, as I am very dull, and lonely and fed up–indeed I shall not be sorry to leave home.

      I needn’t apologize for giving you no instalment this week, as you are in the same state, but I will try and do better next time. This letter is perhaps a bit short, but so is yours–we have neither of us yet got our sea legs. Let me hear from you by Tuesday at the very latest, a good long one, as I need a lot of cheering up. Good bye old man,

      Yours,

      Jack

       TO HIS FATHER (LP V: 125):

      [Gastons]

      27/9/16.

      My dear Papy,

      I hope you got the telegram all right this time: at least it was sent on Saturday afternoon. I had a very tolerable journey, and I think my cold is gone. How is yours? Kirk is very pleased with the Trinity papers and we find them very useful: most of them of course are rather harder than those I shall have, as a Trinity Scholarship is not an entrance scholarship at all, but is taken when you have been ‘up’ for a year–at least so I am assured. But of course the greater includes the less, and if we master these the other will be all the safer. I am sending back some of the German books which he thinks unsuitable, but we have enough for the present.

      Thanks for the letter from Arthur which you forwarded. When he wrote, ‘the gaiety of nations’¹⁴⁵ had been increased by Gordon’s developing a bad knee which prevented him from walking! On the whole it must have been a cheery little party after my leaving them–tho’ that in itself was perhaps enough to depress any holiday-makers. But of course you will never hint for a moment to anyone that I had anything but panegyrics to say about Portsalon. These people are all so throughother [sic] that you never know who will hear what, as Mrs. K. would say.

      Everyone here says that they heard the last London raid, though I ingloriously slept all night. With that exception, everything in the war way seems to be going well, doesn’t it? It is hot summer weather here without the least suggestion of autumn, which I dislike very much. Kirk is in very good form, although he does not remember M. Henry. About the Westminster confession I have not yet asked.

      The collars which Annie was to send me have arrived. I don’t know exactly how postage rates are running, but I hope you didn’t sell the gramophone СКАЧАТЬ