13th February 1826

Dull morning at school, until we had to write an essay about Lord Nelson. Muzzle wrote:

Lord Nelson was the greatest and most feared Admiral in His Majesty’s Navy who dealt fatal blows against the fleet of the wicked Napoleon. But he was struck by a musket ball at the Battle of Tenerife and, after that, he was totally armless.

Ballast saw it while he was stalking about the classroom. He made Percy take it up to the front and read it out loud; and then thwacked anyone who dared laugh.

After school, I considered going to Buckingham Street after school to speak with Forsythe, reckoning that he might know something about this unfortunate connection between Montague Pym and Selena Hathersage. Percy, however, remarked that he was going to buy a valentine for his barmaid. Naturally, I confessed to him that I was thinking about sending my own love-token. Therefore, I agreed to accompany him to look at the cards in Grafton’s window.

Percy, after much cogitation, went inside and bought a card showing a pink-cheeked little cupid sitting very cosily on a cloud, showering arrows on a young gent in a rust-coloured tailcoat and a shy-looking young woman in a bonnet, seemingly more interested in picking daisies. I was not to be outdone and bought one with a giant red heart pierced by an arrow – with lace trim – carried by two cherubic manservants in livery, around which was written, also in red, ‘Pity a Wounded Heart!’ Cherubs and Cupids and arrows and such are pretty much always the thing when it comes to sending a valentine. Percy said he would spend all evening thinking of his own verse to accompany the card. I said that I might spend all night.

[LOVE is not a competition! Mine, in any case, will be much superior. Percy has never even started writing a play.]

When I got home, Mrs Fitzharris was sitting in the parlour, drinking tea and gossiping with Mama. She is an awful old busy-body and must have caught a glimpse of the cherub poking out of my coat pocket. For I happened to overhear her exclaim to Mama, as I was ascending the stairs, ‘Well, I declare, my dear – I had thought that young Charles did not have much of an interest in girls, as yet – I mean to say, my dear, he is – well, give him a year or two – to reach his proper height –’ (!)

I paid no heed to her impudence. In any case, I have no interest whatever in common-or-garden girls – only MY SELENA!

[note to self: vigorous manly exercise to improve posture]

Eleven o’clock p.m.

I have written the poem for my card which POSITIVELY BURST OUT from my heart!

My poem is called Soft be the Wind.

Soft be the wind,

 that thwarts me no more

 sailing to you,

Calm be the waves,

 that wash me ashore,

 into your harbour!

 Like flotsam!

Safe be the beach,

 that cradles my hopes,

 in its groynes,

Bright be the lighthouse,

 shining its beams,

 upon your rocks,

Sweet siren!

Short be this rhyme,

 yet long be my love,

 Oh! Heavens above!

 Think of me,

 My VALENTINE!

Anon.

I have appended a pencil sketch of a lighthouse and some rocks.

Midnight

Is it too nautical?