Day after Day 14

January 1902

After Christmas, when John had returned to Oxford and Harold to his college, May and Muriel regularly corresponded with them. Now Muriel wrote only to Harold, and May to John. The girls no
longer completely shared their letters.

Muriel wrote to Harold:

Dear Harold,

I know that you are dedicating your life to finding tin, and I am sure that is a worthwhile occupation, but it occurs to me, that I really know very little about what tin is used for. Perhaps in your next letter you could enlighten me.

Here is my quotation for you. “The best way to become acquainted with a subject is to write a book about it.”

Do you know who said that? Perhaps I should write a book about tin and tin mining so that I could learn about it properly.

Love,

Muriel

In reply Harold wrote:

Dear Muriel

I think what you quoted came from Disraeli. Am I right?

You asked about the uses for tin. There are so many it is hard to list them all, but the main one is as a coating for iron to keep it from rusting. This is called galvanising. There are two forms of tin but the one that has most use is called white tin. It is formed by heating grey tin above 55.76º. It will turn back to grey tin if its temperature falls below that level, so small amounts of antimony or bismuth are added to white tin to keep it from doing that.

Tin cans are the most familiar example of galvanising. The can is made from steel, then a thin layer of tin is applied inside and out to keep it from rusting. Tin is also used in the Pilkington process of making glass. Molten glass is poured onto a pool of molten tin. The glass floats on the surface of the tin and cools, forming solid glass with flat parallel surfaces which are need to make window glass. Tin combined with copper makes bronze, and with lead pewter and solder.

I hope you don’t find that too boring, but you did ask. I am always pleased to have a suggestion as to what to write in a letter, as sometimes it is hard to think of things to say.

My quotation for you is, ‘I have made this letter longer because I have not had time to make it shorter.’ Who said that?

Love,

Harold

The late winter and early spring was a dull time for Muriel. She decided to follow up Mr. Tree’s suggestion regarding her grandmother Martha Trew’s poetry, sending it to various magazines. She had copied out each poem in a fair hand for the poetry-choosing session with her friends, so there was no need to do that over again. All that was necessary was to decide who to send the poems to.

To assemble a list of suitable publications she visited local book stores and the library. She also spoke to the literature tutors at the Victoria Institute. Having obtained their advice she sent poems to the following magazines:

The British Women’s Club Health and Beauty Magazine - the poems entitled Human Frailty and The World Is But A Fleeting Shadow.

Everyday Housekeeping - Forget Me Not and Happiness.

The Young Woman – My God, the poem about a young woman who was continually taking God's name in vain.

MacMillan Magazine – the poem about the Queen.

Harper's Bazaar, an American magazine - On The Daintiest.

There were also two magazines which were to be launched later in the year. They were already accepting material, so she decided to try them.

To The Hibbert Journal she sent Sonnet On Madame Malibian and to The Women’s Magazine the poem Guildford Castle, with the illustration her grandmother had done to accompany it.

Another letter arrived from Harold dated May 10th, 1902:

Dear Muriel,

I know it will be your birthday soon. I hope you have a very wonderful day.

We had a good time at the Trethisick Festival. I had hoped you might come, but there is always next year. I missed having you here. I felt rather left out, since I would have been proud to show you off as my girlfriend.

The weather here has been very good, and I am really enjoying the extra mildness after the sharp winds we often had in Worcestershire.

Here is my quotation for this letter. I know you are an artist so I hope you won’t be offended:
‘Painting: The art of protecting flat surfaces from the weather and exposing them to the critic.’

Love from Harold

Muriel replied:

June 1st

Dear Harold,

I didn’t know your quote. I got a book from the library which lists quotations, but I couldn't find any reference to it. You will have to tell me.

My art work is progressing, but it isn’t the conventional art of paint on paper. I have made some very ornate tables in my woodworking class, carving them with patterns. I can’t wait for you to come home so I can show them to you.

I am still pursuing the idea of having great-grandmother’s poetry published. I have sent them out to
various magazines. I hope at least one of them will be accepted. I have not had any replies yet.

Will you have time off in the summer? I expect your term will be finished by the end of June, though I am not sure. Perhaps your terms are longer than those at other colleges. John will be home soon. The Oxford terms only last eight weeks. May is eager to see him again. I am wondering if he will ask her to marry him. They do seem very close.

It is hard to think of things to write about. Perhaps you could ask me questions too. I could rant and rave about the local gossip, but somehow I don’t think that would interest you. I hope to be seeing you soon.

My quote for this letter is: ‘Let each man exercise the art he knows.’

Love,

Muriel

*****

John and Harold duly came home for the summer, and May and Muriel spent as much time as possible with them. However, no rings were exchanged.

Muriel received letters from three of the magazines which she had contacted. Two said the material was not suitable for their publications. The third said they had all the material they needed for the time being. Even though Muriel had not written the poems she felt a sense of personal hurt. She had so hoped to share her grandmother's words with the world. At least she had tried.

*****

There was one sad event at that time. Mary Walker, Charlotte’s mother, died suddenly. This was a great shock to the family. Mr Walker remained obdurate in his attitude to his daughters who had chosen to leave home. He did not allow them to attend their mother's funeral.

Privately, Charlotte thought her father was behaving more and more irrationally and was finding him very difficult to cope with.

Muriel came down to breakfast on a morning in early November, said good morning to her parents, then saw an enormous package addressed to her. It was heavy, and she guessed it contained books. That was indeed the case. She opened it and found a two-volume dictionary. On the first page her father had written “To Muriel with Love from Father, November, 1902”.

She wondered why her mother’s name had not also been appended, but realised that he was the one who would have chosen the gift. He explained that the dictionary was intended as a late
birthday present and early Christmas present.

Muriel examined the title - A Standard Dictionary of the English Language by Funk and Wegnalls, New York and London.
“But Father,” she said, “this is an American dictionary. Did you realise that?''

"Of course,'' he said with a smile. "This is the best dictionary I could find. It gives both the English and American spelling and definition of words. I don't think you could find a more complete dictionary for home use.''

"This is wonderful,'' Muriel said. "Thank you so much.'' She looked at the first volume, finding many coloured plates. There was an atlas at the back of the book. “There are 2,286 pages,” she said in awe. "In addition, there's the atlas and sections on disputed pronunciations and abbreviations and
contractions. This should keep me busy for a while.''

"This is the sort of book that will still be useful a hundred years from now,'' said Mr King. "It can be
passed down from generation to generation.'' He sounded pleased with himself.

Earlier that week Muriel had decided to invite her friends round to a dinner party. She would cook the food. They would be invited to stay the night in the Kings' home. She had invited May, along with Margaret and Jessie Tree. Margaret and Jessie were to sleep in the guest room, and May would share Muriel's room.

Muriel wanted the meal to be interesting and different, but not too challenging. She consulted Mrs Beeton's volume on household management for ideas. Since her parents and the servants would also be sharing the meal she would be cooking for eight people. Mrs Beeton did indeed provide five suggested autumn meals for eight people, and Muriel chose the first of these.

Julienne soup, turbot with shrimp sauce, braised chicken, boiled potatoes and vegetable marrow. Mrs Beeton's suggested cream dessert sounded too bland, so she decided on chocolate parfait
in its stead.

“Are you all ready for the party this evening?” her mother inquired gently.

“I have bought all the food and studied the recipes. I shall make a start on the dessert later this morning, and then make sure I have time for the starter and main course after lunch,'' said Muriel confidently.

“Would you like me to help you? Or you could ask Amy or Emily to help with the vegetables.”

“No, this is my meal. I will prepare sufficient for you and father, and also for Amy and Emily. You can eat on your own, and I will entertain my friends in the dining room. I hope you don’t mind my taking it over. I have carefully planned this evening.''

"By all means my dear,'' said her mother. "I hope your plans include washing up the dishes.''

*****

The meal was hailed as an enormous success by Muriel's guests. Afterwards they played a parlour game which made use of the new American dictionary. The other girls had been awed by its size, and the number of words which it contained.

"We will take turns in choosing a word,'' Muriel explained. "One will choose, the other three will guess the meaning of the word. I think we should choose words which are so difficult that we cannot guess the meaning of them, but words that are so well known that we all know them. And if the words are selected from a page by one of the coloured plates, we can enjoy looking at the pictures.''

She handed round pencils and paper to her friends.

"Since I devised the game, I suppose I should go first.'' Muriel opened the first volume of the dictionary - A to L - at a plate containing pictures of butterflies. "Now...I have chosen a word. It is buttwoman. You have five minutes to decide what it means. While you are deciding I can look at this picture.''

Her three friends stared around, as though looking for inspiration, but they all used pencil and paper.

“May, you go first,'' said Muriel. "What did you write?”

“Buttwoman – a lady with a big behind.” There were embarrassed chuckles.

Margaret came next. “I think it is a woman who fills water butts.”

"A lady who makes butter,'' said Jessie.

"I will be lenient,'' said Muriel. "You can all have 1 point for saying that it is a woman - but no points
for saying what she does. It means a church cleaner or pew opener's assistant. Who would have thought that? Now, who is selecting the next word?

"I will,'' said Margaret, also looking in he first volume. The girls saw that she was looking in a section
concerning birds. "The word is biod.''

After the allotted time the girls read out what they had written.

"Perhaps it is a rare species of bird,'' said Muriel.

"A garment worn next to the body,'' said Jessie.

"I also thought it has something to do with birds,'' said Margaret. "Perhaps a stuffed bird?''

"No points for anyone,'' said Margaret. "It means animal magnetism.''

“Can’t we have a point for saying that it had something to do with birds?” asked May.

“No, I think our marking has been far too generous,'' Margaret retorted.

“My turn,” said May, taking the book from her. “My word is geck.''

The girls wrote down their ideas.

“To look at something carefully.”

“A bird with a funny call.”

"Something that is not nice, or unpleasant,'' said Jessie.

"I think I can give you four points for that, Jessie,'' said May. "It means to scorn or deride, to jeer or
taunt. None of those are very nice.''

Jessie, looking pleased with herself, chose the word euxanthin.''

“I rather think it might have something to do with medicine,” said May.

“I also think it is a chemical word, and perhaps to do with ingredients in paint,” said Muriel.

“I think it might relate to being exalted in some way,” said Margaret.

'“I think I will give five points to Muriel,'' said Jessie. "It is a yellow pigment made from the urine of
animals fed on mangoes.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to go into detail,'' said Margaret, offended by the word urine.

“Don’t be so sensitive,'' said Muriel. "We all know the meaning of urine. But is euxanthin a foreign word?''

"It has a foreign derivation.'' Jessie admitted. "The pigment comes from India and China.''

Eventually it was time to add up the scores and announce a winner. To Muriel's embarrassment she found that she had the most points.

"I expect you looked at the words on every page opposite a coloured plate,'' May said with a sly smile.

"I most certainly did not,'' said Muriel heatedly. "However, since I bought the prize I cannot present it
to myself, so it must go to Jessie.''

Jessie blushed as she opened the prize, a book entitled The Modern Hoyle which gave instructions on how to play various games. As a member of a game-playing family she was delighted to receive the book.

So the evening came to a conclusion, and Muriel was well pleased with her party as she went off to bed.