Sales catalogue 494: Maggs Bros

Date:
1927
Reference:
WA/HMM/CM/Sal/13/51
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Sales catalogue 494: Maggs Bros. Source: Wellcome Collection.

    274/316 (page 234)
    4 _— o4 MAGGS BROS., 34 (> 35, CONDUIT STREET, LONDON, W. Smiles. would not budge; so I slept upon the field of battle, paraded, sang Te Deum, and came home after a review rather than a campaign. ‘* Please tell Campbell I got his letter. The wild woman of the west, alias the Simorn, alias the Daft Wife d’ Bonelly has been much amiss and complaining sorely. I hope nothing more serious is wrong with her than just ill-health and consequent anxiety and labour; but the deuce of it is, that the cause continues, I am about knocked out of time, now; a miserable, snuffling, shivering, fever- stricken, night-mare ridden, knee-jottering, hoast-hoast-hoasting shadow and remains of man. But we’ll no gie ower jist yet a bittie. We've seen waur; and dod, mem, its my believe that we’ll see better. I dinna ken ’at I’ve muckle mair to say to ye, or, indeed, anything; but just here’s guid-fellowship, guid health, and the wale o’ guid fortune to your bonny sel’; and my respec’s to the Perfessor and his wife, and the Prinshiple, an’ the Bell Rock, an’ ony ither public chara’ters that I’m acquaunt Wi ‘‘ We are very much distressed to hear of this which has befallen your family. As for Sir Alexander, I can but speak from my own feelings : he survived to finish his book and to conduct, with such a great success, the tercentenary. Ah, how many die just upon the threshold! Had he died a year ago, how great a disappointment ! But all this is nothing to the survivors. Do please, as soon as you are able, let us know how it goes and how it is likely to go with the family; and believe that both my wite and I are most anxious to have good news, or the best possible. My poor Coggie, I knew very well how you must feel; you are passing a bad time. ‘* Our news must seem very impertinent. We have both been ill; I, pretty bad, my wife, pretty well down; but I, at least, am better. The Bogue, who is let out every night for half an hour’s yapping, is anchored in the moonlight just before the door and, under the belief that he is watchdog at a live farm beleagured by moss-troopers, is simply raising Cain.’’ ‘‘ I wish I could find the letter I began to you some time ago when I was ill; but I can’t, and don’t believe there was much in it anyway. We have all behaved like pigs and beasts and barn-door poultry to you; but I have been sunk in work, and the lad is lazy and blind and has been working too, and as for Fanny she has been (and still is) really unwell. I had a mean hope you might perhaps right [write] again before I got up steam; I could not have been more ashamed of myself than I am, and I should have had another laugh. ‘“ They always say I cannot give news in my letters: I shall shake off that reproach. On Monday, if she is well enough, Fanny leaves for California to see her friends; it is rather an anxiety to let her go alone, but the Dr. simply forbids it in my case, and she is better anywhere than here—a bleak, blackguard, beggarly climate, of which I can say no good except that it suits me and some others of the same or similar persuasions whom (by all rights) it ought to kill. It is a form of Arctic St. Andrews, I should imagine : and the miseries of forty degrees below zero with a high wind have to be felt to be appreciated. The greyness of the heavens here is a circumstance eminently revolting to the soul: I have near forgot the aspect of the sun—I doubt if this be news, it is certainly no news to us. My mother suffers a little from the inclemency of the place, but less on the whole than would be imagined. Among other wild schemes we have been projecting yacht voyages; and I beg to inform you that Cogia Hassan was cast for the part of passenger. They may come off! Again this is not news. The lad? Well the lad