I ordered a pail and some water (“and let the water be inside the pail”) to be placed on the lawn this morning, so that I might observe the eclipse of the sun. The eclipse was over before I got down; as the pail was bright white that made no difference. Things looked very uncanny from my bedroom window and I tried to tremble like a Red Indian: they tremble, as you know, like Red Indianything....
It was written on the morrow of his birthday, 10.4.21:
Many thanks for your letter of the 8th, for your good wishes and for a noble Catholic Dictionary, with which I was mightily pleased. It will be of great value to me if I live (a) to edit The Autumn of the Middle Ages, by Huisinga and (b) to translate The Land of Rembrand, by Busken Huet, two monumental tasks which I have been discussing with Dodd....
You have presumably bought Queen Victoria, by the side of which Eminent Victorians is quite a dull book. And I read that, on Friday last, eight gentleman were seen sitting in a row in Kensington Gardens, all reading Strachey’s book. If, however K. G. were closed to the public on Friday, then the story is mythical....
Your birthday-stunt worked wonders. Miracles never cease: R—— sent me an Omar Khayyam! R. a round or circular photograph-frame of a precious metal known as silver. N. F. 25 cigars of the por Laranaga flavor. B. 50 of the flavour known as Romeo y Julieta. P. 100 cigarettes of the snake-charming flavour, which, being manufactured from the finest high-grade selected Turkish leaf tobacco, must be exchanged for the cigarettes of Ole Virginny when I am next in hail of one of Messrs. Salmon & Gladstone’s famous establishments.
This exhausts your list. Over and above these gifts, I received from S. an Umps, i.e. a biscuit-ware naked doll, with wings, practicable arms and a heart in the right, non-commital place, in the middle of its chest. Also, a neat black and grey tie. From Mrs. H. a tie.... From my wiff a tie and a pair of mittens, for elderly early-morning wear. From the manageress of the hotel, a knitted canary waistcoat with sapphire buttons to cover the nudity of the Umps. From an anonymous admirer, a smaller naked doll, made, I venture to think, of celluloid-georgette. From a lady staying at the hotel, a box of Sainsbury’s chocolates, which are the most toothsome in the world. From G. H., aged 80, and F., his wife, age 75, a box of other chocolates, and 50 De Reske cigarettes. From A. T., aged 6, bought with her own money, a bottle of ink and a ball of twine. From her mother, P. T., neé McKenna—nay, Mackenzie—two blue-bird electric-light shades.
The T’s, who belong to my local doctor, in the proportion of one wife and one daughter, also gave me a birthday party. To meet me were invited Dr. C., Dr. F., and Captain Cave-Brown-Cave. It opened with an ode or oratorio about fairies and happiness, intoned by Anne and Dr. C. to an accompaniment by Mrs. T. Then Anne put her arms round my neck, embraced me tenderly and told me not to mind what Mrs. Teixeira said about my touting for presents: Mrs. Teixeira didn’t mean it, couldn’t mean it; and Anne didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. With the tears streaming down the knees of my cashmere trouserings, I was led in to tea to see my name spelt in letter-biscuits and my birthday-cake surrounded by 56 pink, green, white and red candles. Then we played bridge and I won eight shillings. And I doubt if Queen Victoria ever described a birthday more fully.
No, she would not have forgotten, as I nearly forgot, that F. E. W. also sent me a tie....
In the middle of the month, Teixeira began to make preparations, for his return: