Sent by Alfred Russel Wallace, Corfe View, Parkstone, Dorset to William Greenell [ARW's son] Wallace [none given] on 19 October 1890.
Re. house alterations; Mr Sharpe's illness; William's college studies.
A typical letter handwritten by author in English and signed by author.
An original MS
Pages with text: 4
Transcriber: Vongsachang, Hurnan
Transcription date: July 8, 2010
Scrutiny: 08/07/2011 - Chen, Eric; 15/01/2013 - Catchpole, Caroline;
Signed off: no
Oct. 19th. 1890
My dear Willie
Things are going on pretty well. On the Thursday after you left, a stout boy -- bricklayer came to help Charley, -- and on Saturday, another Bricklayer and labourer. All last week these have been at work, with two more labourers sometimes, and they have now got the walls up to the eaves, the concrete ceiling to the passage done, & the joists for the upper floor laid, and on Monday we expect Carpenters to put up the roof, and then the bricklayers [] will brick up the front gate too[?], and begin the foundation of the new drawing-room window. Charley has been head-man all this time with two mates and three or four labourers, and has been explaining everything whenever any remarks were made. I hope by the end of this week they will have the tiles on & everything safe.
I have been working hard with Monk and at length, after several alterations, have got the earth leveled & the rockwork built in front & I think it looks pretty [] fair. Mr. Sharpe is dreadfully ill. He came to Bournemouth on Thursday & we got lodgings for them & went to meet them. They are next door to the Homfray’s[?]. He came in an invalid carriage on a swinging cot, & was obliged to be lifted out and put out[?] a bath-chain and then carried upstairs. They say one of his lungs is almost entirely gone and if the other beings to go he cannot live. The doctors appear to have done nothing for him but put medicine in his stomach, when what he requires is medicine -- that is [] pure air, and healing vapours, & oxygen & ozone in his lungs.
The mess & dust have gone on increasing here till all round the oak tree and the summer house is like a desert. But it now nearly coming to an end, & the carpenters will be able to work inside.
Hoping you are working hard at Electricity & have determined to floor[?] it --
Believe me | Your affectionate Papa | Alfred R. Wallace [signature]
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