Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/89
Noble this.]
I really don't think I should like you to give me a book case on March 3. But I can't think of anything else. Of one thing I am sure - books never disappoint me. Some of Ruskin's, for instance - could you get a list from Briggs? Some of Flaubert, then also Jowell's translation of Plato's Dialogues - second hand; but then that is costly, about £2, I believe: some of the earlier novelists of this century - the Brontes, Jane Austen [illegible] and a set of the Brontes is not expensive. I am anxious to read The Three Musketeers, of course in French. There is a list if you like! Tell if you entirely

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22.ii.99
My dearest friend,
I wonder did you think I needed it, when you sent such a gentle letter to me? You might well have thought so, if you knew what I was doing at the time: still as a matter of fact, if I was not cheerful, I was indifferent. The fact is we were bumped five times; today for the first time we avoided a bump and kept our place, only because the boat behind was the last boat on the river and very bad. Consequence was we were very
much abused; a college meeting was even held, to discuss the prososal of taking away the colours- depriving us of the right to wear our blazers; but fortunately the college voted against that, and we remain humiliated. But you couldn't have know of this. So I am very very grateful for your letter. I was also relived to find you could endure - and more than that - my scrappy letter of Saturday.
I am once again fairly free, and able to settle down to make up for the sad falling off in my work which has caused the complaints of my tutor. We did so badly too, that I

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hear no talk of having a "Drunk".
Perhaps I shall now be able to take some walks. Tomorrow I am going to give "Auntie" another bicycle lesson. Friday I have arranged to walk with Haynes, who often shows signs in the midst of alert and brilliant Balliol society, of finding me troublesome I fear; hence perhaps his series of papers in the J.C.R. of which I enclose a specimen, along with my "Specimen Days" which is too scrappy and snappy to be good.
[By the way I didn't know you possessed "Imaginary Portraits" at No. 6. We have it, though. Don't you remember buying it for me last Summer vacation? Tell Mrs.
disapprove. Shall I choose among them?
You are amusing about your weight. It is very slight. A man of that height ought to weight 11 stone; I don't know about a woman. I don't think one of the Varsity Eight is 6 feet; they all weight nearly 13 stone. Don't cycle: it deforms; is unnecessarily dangerous, and useless.
I am going to end now, and off to work, and to write up some notes for the J.C.R. (Return the enclosed) Goodbye
my own sweet little one. Kiss
me often, and think always of
the spring days and nights we shall
soon enjoy. I think and burn only too much for them ; for
the scent of your bosom and the
scent of violets. Goodbye.
Ever yours wholly,Edw.
Sweet heart Helen, Goodbye.
Adieu.