LETTER TWO.


London,

December 6th, 1838.

My Dear Sister,

I received the goods all safe, and was much refreshed with your kind letter, and am in rather better spirits than when I wrote last to you, having obtained two or three little orders, and promise of more; but things are as flat as they can be here at present, and my situation is anything but agreeable. I think, however, of putting my lathe and things up as soon as I can get them from the waggon office (which I cannot do till I can turn the few made-up goods I brought with me into money), and begin to do the little work which I have got, in hopes of getting more when that is done.

My expectations of London have met with disappointment in nearly every particular, but I will not talk of that. You will remember that I hinted to you that, in case I did not succeed in London, I should go farther. I had almost forgotten that I ever had such thoughts, among the fresh and astonishing scenes of this strange, glorious place, till it seemed as if there was no place for me among the countless multitude of its inhabitants. My thoughts then returned to emigration.

The information which we have obtained since we have been here respecting Australia has determined both Clarinda and myself to make up our minds to emigrate to a land which holds out prospects so bright and cheering to unhappy Englishmen, though at the distance of sixteen thousand miles. I have been to the Government emigration office to ascertain what assistance they afford to mechanics wishing to emigrate, and we can have a free passage, being young and having no children. The first chartered ship, I believe, will sail in March, and that vessel, I trust, will convey us safe to Sydney. In the meantime we have much to do, and I must necessarily trouble you not a little. You have ever been so kind to me, and have sacrificed so much for my welfare, that I am ashamed to ask you for further assistance; but I hope a time will come when I shall have it in my power to prove my gratitude.

In the first place, as I must have a certificate of my being of good character, to procure a free passage, I want Maria to obtain signatures to it. The persons whom I have selected as the best to sign it are: Rev. George Cheatle, minister of Lombard-street chapel; Mr. B. Hudson, bookseller. Bull-street; Mr. R. Matthison, stationer, Edgbaston-street; and Mr. Pickard, ironmonger, Bull-street. I am not very well known to any of these, least of all to Mr. Cheatle; but the certificate must be signed by a clergyman or minister, and he is the only person of that class who can know anything of me, from living in his own neighbourhood and being with Mr. Houldin, a near neighbour of his, so long, and my brother George and his wife attending his chapel. I think he must know enough of me to justify him in signing a paper of no more consequence. I have written a letter to him, which you will deliver, and allow him to read before you ask him for his signature. All I know of Mr. Pickard is having sold him goods, which I got up in Birmingham, and bought of him. My knowledge of Mr. Hudson, and his of me, is similar. To him I have written a letter, too. Mr. Matthison knows me rather better. To the signatures of these gentlemen I should like to have added those of Mr. Porter, surgeon, Bromsgrove-street, Mr. Wright, thread manufacturer, Bromsgrove-street; but as I am in debt to Mr. Porter, and have been for a shameful long time, perhaps you had better not apply to him. I leave that to you. Mr. Wright, having been in the habit of seeing me more or less for so many years, must be a fitter person to judge of my character than any of the above. If you can get the signatures of all six, I shall be extremely glad. The certificates which they are to sign are marked at the top of leaf No. 2 and No 4, and each signature should comprise name, calling, and place of residence. For example: B, Hudson, bookseller, Birmingham. The other two certificates are to be signed by Mr. Houldin, my late master, only. They are marked No. 1 and No. 3; get these signed first. And then Clarinda must have a certificate, also—that marked No. 5 to be signed by Mr. Joseph Hardy, paper manufacturer. Great Hampton Row, and No. 6 to be signed by Mr. Cheatle, Chester-street, and Mr. Derrington, town missionary, next door but one or two to Garrison Lane's Chapel. You will be kind enough to explain to Mr. Cheatle—if you have any need to do so—that the name was 'Varney' at the shop in Mosely-street; also to the latter gentleman, and that she was for seven years a teacher in Garrison Lane's school. Be pleased to have Mr. Cheatle's name first.

As we shall be about four months on our voyage, and as there is no washing allowed on board, we must have at least fifteen changes of clothes, &c., each, be they ever such poor ones. Therefore the next thing I want is, if Eliza or my mother can find time, and are able to do so, for them to make some of these garments for us, as fast as we can get them.

I must now speak of things more familiar. First of all, of my little dog. If you, or someone belonging to me, could keep him when I am gone, I should be very glad, for that little, unhappy animal seems a very part of my unhappy heart. If he cannot be kept among you, dispose of him in the best way you can. At any rate be kind enough to keep him till I am gone. With regard to the books, if you can sell any of them or exchange any of them for cloth for shirts, &c., I should be glad. 'Caleb Williams' and the 'Works of Shakespeare' I should like for myself, but, of course, can do without them. But secure enough to pay Mr. Anderson and to pay the postage of letters from me.

I hope my father has some work to do—if he is able to do it—and that my mother and Eliza are as well as usual. Be sure to look at them while they sign the papers, and see they do not sign the wrong, Clarinda's being both on the same leaf. Give our love to all. "We will send you full particulars of our adopted country before we go.

Yours,
H. PARKES.

December 7th.

P.S.—The money you sent will just do to get the things from the waggon office, but there is one thing that pains me in receiving it—the thought of the injury which you must do yourselves in being kind to me.

H. PARKES.