Well, well, the world wags on pretty quickly, curse it, & next mail I suppose I shall be writing my Christmas letters. I was very sorry (still am) to learn you didn’t get my Paris letter on time, & somewhat surprised, as I thought the previous ones might have been held up, but that that one would go to its destination by the night Frisco mail as straight as a die, & speedy as the arrow from the bow, to quote words which you once used to describe the quick- ness of the model child to carry out its parents behests. A great pity to break up the orderly progression of letters instituted by Keith; but then of course I don’t suppose another mortal man could live up to the standard of that shining example. Ask Frannie anyhow. Well, I can only assure you with many regrets, that I never felt surer in my life that I had caught the night mail with a couple of days to spare, as I did in Paris. Still you know what unreliable birds these French & Germans are, & the other lesser breeds without the law. As Jimmy Parr said to Campbell, on his return from Geneva as official N.Z. delegate in the cause of peace & inter- national understanding “You know, I don’t trust any of these foreigners.” This yarn had better not get into unauthorised circles, but it is too good to keep. Anyhow I was glad to get your joint letter — my mail does not seem to get any bulkier with the lapse of time; I also got one from Mrs. Hannah, so in case I don’t have time to answer it by this mail you might kindly announce to her that it has been received with considerable gratitude, & will be replied to in due course.

I must thank you very much for the offer of financial assistance, which is not altogether unappreciated, even though I am your son, & therefore have a right to demand the reckless pouring out of your blood & treasure on my behalf. I think however, unless anything extraordinary happens, I shall be able to scrape along pretty well on my stipend & savings till the end of next year, before which I shall probably have applied for a Guggenheim or Rockefeller fellow- ship, or something else profitable. Anyhow I don’t think I shall need to call on you, so take my advice & put by the pennies for a worthier cause. I think I asked you or someone else in the family to give the National Provident gang notice that I wouldn’t be paying them any more cash after the end of this year. — I suppose if necessary I can cancel that & still keep on. But as it stands the cash could be put to a more exciting use over here probably.

I thought Daddy had been told to keep off night work — a fine gang of crooks you’ll be in a year or so at this rate. I can see the whole damn family in bed & Auntie Win in her silent heroic way looking after the lot of you. Or your daughters–in–law may be getting useful in that line by then.  Well I reckon it’s about time for the balances to hang skewiff if they won’t get to the right poise during the day-time; but then I’m no financial wizard, & it may be that a delicately–adjusted equipoise is necessary to the welfare of Sharland’s unearned increment holders. No one need read the foregoing Bolshevist doctrines who prefers not to. — Daddy says “our weather is getting warmer & more pleasant” — conversely ours is getting colder & more unpleasant on the whole, though we have not really gone off the deep end yet. Still by the time you get this, all the fogs of hell will have been loosed on us, I suppose. Yes, I remember how the sycamores looked in spring; also how Auntie looked in the same blissful season, if the garden doesn’t flourish under such able & tender care, well, shame on it! says I. — I note with due pleasure that K. & F approve of their flat. It might heighten their happiness to be told that in my time I have danced over that floor; & sat on it & consumed a good deal of fruit salad & other mixed comestibles & stood outside the backdoor & looked at the stars with many a charming girl to the accompaniment of Bill’s grama- phone; — noble animal, incisive in its renderings of the terpsichorean classics.  On second thoughts, I don’t think Frannie ought to be told of this, or she might want to move out, & God forbid that I should do Mrs Jolliffe out of so charming a tenant. — Thanks for the Hist. Soc. circular; a wonderful effort of the human mind; I suppose the family en masse has joined a body propelled by the powerful intellects of F.P., Miss Coad, & Vaughan Evans — what a crew! How P.J. Smith got into such company I’m blessed if I know. — no man has less the historical mind, or more the fertile unfettered imagination. The others so far as I know, have neither. The lass Maiden Clark who appears to be hon. sec pro tem. is not a bad sort though. If I come back & the thing is still going it might be a useful organisation to set collecting money for the supply of books to the library. If you see any of them you might tell them with my compliments that it’s impossible to study history in N.Z. anyhow. The rumour about Miss Duggan’s leaving makes me laugh — if true, I wonder who’ll take on the job next, & how long she’ll last? It’ll be a she if F.P has any say in it. God, what a circus! I’m sorry to see that F.P. C.Q.P has gone & got engaged — the last remaining cobber I had to maintain his indepen- dence — no, no quite, there are still Jack Fatterall & Rossie & one or two young ones left. I suppose I had better trot down to the H.C’s to see if I can look up the name of the girl; but you might tell him I don’t approve anyhow. Fatal step! I suppose he’ll never get out of N.Z. now. These women do get in a man’s way. — You do seem to be trav- elling pretty widely over the world in your reading — Monday in Transylvania, Tuesday in Tibet, Wednesday in Holland, & Thursday in Antarctica, I suppose. Yes, I think I must try that buttered tea sometime. I haven’t had anything out of the way in the drink line for a long time. I am thinking of buying some China tea of the best brand at present, as I have just invested in a rather flash Japanese tea–pot for state–occasions — it puts the rest of the household crockery seriously to shame. Mac & I saw it in a shop the other day & had a good look at it & went away & thought about it & had another look at it at night, & came to an arrangement that if I bought it & got fed up with it by Xmas he would give me a quid for it, I this making 1/6; so whichever way my taste goes it looks as if I’m on a win. I’ll bet you never thought of buying your household furnishings on this plan. My word I shouldn’t mind a flat in one of these squares & £500 a year, & unlimited shelving — you could collect some good stuff in the way of books & other ornaments. Your remark about the Oxford Univ Press printing my thesis called up many a delightful vision. You don’t seem to like the idea of my taking it to a foreign land to get printed. (Though I don’t know whether it will be, even now; I haven’t heard from the bloke yet, curse him) I gather that you think that your son has only to announce, in his modest way, that he has a little bit of a thesis he’d be willing for someone to print, for red list & bloody carnage to break out among the publishers of this city to get the priv- ilege. And it would indeed be a stimulating sight to see Jonathan Cape charging up Ludgate Hill against a hail of machine guns & high explosive from the impregnably en- trenched O.U.P. Ludgate Circus a shambles; Heel St runs blood; St Paul’s bombed by unscrupulous Capeans; London policeman hard put to it to clean up the mess. Dear, dear, not in our generation, I’m afraid. No, whenever the good Englishman wants to raise the wind he doesn’t clear out his own pockets — he goes to the States. The States are building the University of London. They’ve just collected enough to rebuild the Shakespeare Memorial theatre — £200, 000 odd. Of that England raises — £30,000. Rest comes from U.S., including John D.Rockefeller, who gives £50,000 in America, & £50,000 in England. This is the bloke who has also just presented his a library to the League of Nations; & whom I also hope to exploit later on, if my luck holds. De Kievriel is thinking of getting at him first, though. No, there’s precious little organised phil- anthropy going in this country, either in publishing or anything else. What makes me sick is that the English affect to despise the Americans for their cold– blooded commercialism. Well, well, let’s rob the robbers by all means, but don’t let’s make a virtue of it.

Let’s see what I have to report. de K has finished his thesis & got it in after staying up all night two or three times. I went up to his place one afternoon at 5pm & left at ¼ to 4 next morning — we both worked straight through, he typing & I proof–reading & correcting, with 5 minutes off now & again for tea & 1.30 toast, & an occasional doubtful story. This is undoubtedly the way to get work done. The only thing would be if you lived in London out about five years you’d live as much at night as in the daytime.  Things don’t really begin to sparkle till about 10 pm.  I am thinking of putting in a few late nights myself & getting my thesis written by Jane — even if I don’t put it in then, I shall have it off my mind, except for revising, & have the summer free. After the next long vacation all my bright partic- ular historical cobbers will have left too, which will make things a bit less interesting in some ways. I wish I could put in a session at the School — I’m always missing good meetings down there ... Heard H.N.Brailsford the other night, though, & to joined the UnivLabour Club Party through falling into the hands of Joe Goodwin who is the L.S.E. treasurer. Bang goes 3/-. H.N.B. not bad. In the meantime my work is going on badly, I ought to be finished at the P.R.O. in another month or six weeks, & I hope to start writing in the Xmas vacation. Don’t want to leave London at Xmas, so I hope nobody asks me. Couldn’t stand another Manchester Xmas dinner, anyhow; but I might trot down to Frinley for a couple of days. Newton is getting quite polite to me, & it almost looks as if when de K goes I shall take his place as the white–headed boy. I won’t mind if I can dig another schol out of it. There is stacks of work to do if only you can get the chance of doing it. I could put in about 20 years very nicely doing a history of British colonial policy since 1783, & it’s easy work, compared to poetry.

I have been to a couple more live Quartet concerts — a second Mozart one — no, I think I mentioned that in my last letter — & last Tuesday to a Beethoven one, the three Rasumovsky quartets, of which, feeling in an expansive mood, I bought the scores. These birds can play all right, though the critics, including an old cobber Ernest Newman, are now going for them for playing everything too smoothly. I must hear a few more quartets, just to see. Otherwise I haven’t been to any concerts, as far as I remember; performing the heroic feat of staying away from an L.S.O Bach concert last Monday to work... There is an interesting affair coming off an Armistice night, though, to which I must go — B.B.C concert, conducted by Elgar, including For the Fallen, last movmt of 9th Symphony, Pericles Funeral Oration spoken by that complacent old ineptitude Earl Balfour R.G., & Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, read by Sir Ian Hamilton; who is a cove I should like to see. There are quite a lot of birds I have not yet seen or heard that I mustn’t miss. The only other thing I have been to is a play, Strindberg’s The Father, a terrific thing, cove by the name of Robert Loraine in the principal part. I am thinking this feller Strindberg was a dramatist of some distinction. There was a bit of a Barnie thing as a curtain–raiser, Barbara’s Wedding, but pretty poor tripe tripe, though technically well–managed. I’d like to see some good Barnie. Also I hope the Macdowen Players will be back with some more Shaw soon.

I suppose some echoes have reached you of the noise in the good old Church of England — I thought you might possibly be interested in this peculiar theology, so I spent an evening cutting up the Times for a fortnight back. Note the sad dignity of the sub–leader — among other things. What a mob! I asked a girl the other night, fat & extremely English, with no sense of humour, daughter of a celebrated mediaevalist (Crump: edited Legacy of Middle Ages) to explain the present state of the to me. She said it was a rather big subject. I said kindly, oh, you’ve got ¼ hour, go ahead. Which she did. Lord: what a men- tality. These lunatics seriously discuss the Nicene creed & the Athanasian creed & whether the new prayer book is open- ing the road to Rome & trans& consubstantiation & the spir- itual presence while their whole civilization crumbles. Meanwhile everybody breaks out into lachrymose admiration of the Archbishop of Canterbury. God have mercy on them. Uncle Harold might like to see the cuttings when you’ve finished with them.

Other points of interest: we have just got a small much needed addition to our bookshelves. Duncan’s books were piled up on the chest of drawers in four coloum columns & had just reached the ceiling when a taxi blew out a tyre outside & they all fell over. They had previously nearly brained Joe Goodwin, so the time was ripe for reform.  Also I am on the point of forking out a second year’s fees — a painful process. In addition to which the Univ of London, which seems to be run about as efficiently as V.U.C. suddenly wakes up to the fact (about 18 months after I’ve been accepted as a Ph.D. student) that I did not matriculate at London, & therefore have to pay £3.3. more & produce my M.A. diploma! They got Duncan like this about 6 months ago, & in neither case was the language beautiful to listen to. Yet, as I said before, these people sneer at the Yanks for their disgusting commercialism. Our confounded seminar dinner gets nearer. We have arranged a hefty feed at a joint in Soho, 4 bob a head; so we are hoping for the best. Curse these people with sociable inclinations. — Had a good night last night playing the piano & talking universal history with a German, an American, & the usual S. African.