Letter from Edward Thomas to his wife, Helen Thomas. Archival reference: 424/1/1/1/1/128
18.11.99

My dearest Helen ,
I am so glad the letter was all you wants. Your last letter before it came was so doleful, that I was concerned for you.Now however I trust the apprehension has gone away without leaving any traces on you or on the child.In fact it is hard for me to think of you as so trammelled by the flesh.I am wondering to, if you have grown prodigiously. I hope not, but suppose it is inevitable.
So far I have made no progress with the youth named Brook. The College reports rumours about my "atheism", drinking (illegible) must make him afraid : beside which, the superiority of my interests perhaps my capacities as well, must always make a gulf between us.
Yesterday I had a letter from (illegible). I

cannot quote it. For his pessimism at present is of such a force and extravagant nature that I dare hardly think of it myself. I wish he could get married, tho possible his wife would find him a strange companion at bed and board.The point is that his present erratic life may lead him to the most fearful disaster that can befall a comely and healthy human being-namely the devouring disease of syphilis contracted from a prostitute.If he caught it , he would shoot himself at once.
I have more work than ever , and a bad record behind me, so I really cannot write a letter. Once or twice I have tried to write a paper, but the sheet remains blank before me. My only satisfactions in life are your letters, my conversations

with Morgan, my walks, and my talks with Maine the Folklore man who makes such wonderful epigrams and talks so neatly. We were together -Maine and I for sometimes before mid night yesterday, sipping a strange "liqueur" called Creme de Menthe glaciale (sic), which changes colour as you move it in a circle before the light. It is peppermint ( menthe ) in taste , but a divine liquor for all that .
I hope to write a short letter home now. so Goodbye.
I am ever (illegible) yours
Edward.
Goodbye. Goodnight, (illegible) little me, Helen.
Adieu