Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/65
17 Woodville Street
15.viii '98

My dearest Friend,
I can fancy how you would have enjoyed the walk I had on Friday last! I went to see a waterfall in the midst of broad woods approached by quiet fields, but the whole day was pleasant. Directly after dinner I started on a walk of eight miles to Ammanford, where Gwili is. The whole road was on a mountainside by a narrow lane, hedged by rocky & ferny mounds, & crossed once or twice every mile by a little stream. It was very hot; the last foxgloves were there, & the first blackberries; the fern smelt pleasantly. At the end the walk I had tea with Gwili his headmaster "Watkyn Wyn", a famous bard & humourist. Then afterwards we went to see the waterfalls of Glyn Hir, with their "silent sound" as Gwili says. I bought back a tiny bunch of herbs & ferns-some whinberries (bilberries or whostleberies). I was really very contented; we talked about poetry, happily enough, though I at
least used nothing but my memory. I returned with Gwili took supper at his house (Pontardaulais), & after a talk with my married cousin got to bed at about 11. On Friday I go to Amanford again, ride in a trap thence to Golden Grove (8 or 9 miles), sleep there one night then go "sight seeing" to castles, falls etc on Saturday, returning in the evening, so if you can & care, post a letter either on Thursday morning or on Friday afternoon-or both! yes! both!-so as to reach me just at the beginning and end of my journey. These matter of fact details are better surely than morbid or sentimental reverie on paper? "But then they are not warm!" No; but I am not warm either; I am "middling" or "so-so" , & yet very well my relations tell me, & "getting fat". Dear Helen my morbid but truthful confession I must make. I am getting Confoundedly concieted, for no earthly reason, & without cause; & that, too,