Saturday, March 20, 2010

March 20th

I did not finish Jack's letter last night. I was interrupted by the advent of Welch & Crozier who insisted on my going into the Mess Room to play Casino, so I went + spent some time there. This morning tho' I got up decently early. I had some little things to do which kept me fully occupied until 9 o'clock, so I did not write to you this morning. At one o'clock today, the trial of the would be deserters took place. Evidence was taken sufficiently to hear that they were trying to desert and they were [?] and for some time. During the trial I took my sketch book and made a sketch of the grave of Parks[?] who died shortly after our arrival here. His friends had written out that they would like to see the place he was buried in. Then I sat down to a chess problem and worked at that until dinner time. After dinner I had a bath. You know this is "Aunt Elizabeth's" eight. How quickly time does fly. Easter is almost here, tomorrow will be Palm Sunday. Your birthday is somewhere about here. I have an idea that it is today. You know you never told me when it was. [?] it is I wish you many many happy[?] returns[?] of it, and hope that the next one I may be with you to spend the day. Oh darling how I do long to see you again. The intense yearning craving desire for you is at time almost unbearable. I can scarcely allow myself the luxury of thinking for it makes me wild and discredited and I might do something rash.

Now do you like this [?]? [?] [?] made from the "Graphine"(sic) into paper. I have run our of black ink and did not notice it until too late to get any more. I have your letter of the 7th Dec. in front of me. You poor silly child. The idea of your bothering about sending me anything. Don't you know that your letters are inexpressibly dear to me that nothing more could be wished for except, what do you think? Those [?] of Longfellow remind me of some I saw in [?] [?] chillingly, and which you remember I tried to find an anchor for. Do you think you can find out who wrote them?

The desire of the moth for the star. The night for the morrow. The hope for something afar. From the sphere of our sorrow.

I quote from memory but those are something like the words. I am so sorry to hear that your mother has been so unwell. I hope that long 'ere[?] this she has quite recovered her [?] health. I am afraid that Bridget will never make a fortune at Fortune-telling, although she seems to have been wisely obscure as to the time when I should put in my sudden appearance. Lizzie you know that I can never doubt you. If you find Mr. Hodder's[?] drives give you pleasure, by all means go with him and only think that I am too glad that you are having pleasure. You know too, better than I can tell you, that it matters little what people say + of course they will talk, so see for yourself and never think but what I am. Your own undoubting Barrie.