Encoded for for the Veterans History Project, October 19, 2020.
All letters in the Ellsworth Dewitt Hill collection were digitized.
The following letters were transcribed from the handwritten originals by Veterans History Project staff. No alterations to this transcription has been made, although spelling errors are indicated with [sic]. Any special emphasis (i.e. underlining) is presented *between asterisks*.
April 23, 1944
Dear Florence-
To-day, being St. Georges Day, a day to commemorate the slaying of the legendary dragon by St. George, and also incidentally being Sunday I have spent in London.
Not having any dragons, legendary or otherwise, to day I have spent ^my day^ following the advice of your mother, studying the flora and fauna of England, and also entertaining my exhaustive researches in the habits and practices of the aborgnees of this Atlantic atol.
As to the flora, there is no complaint. The trees and flowers are out in all their splendor. The day opened up bright, sunny and warm, a phenomena that has happened
Sixteen times (rumor has it, though there is no one living in England to day that can verify it) since the year B.C. 44, or there abouts, where the Romans conquered England, though why, is also inexplicable, expect possibly to the Romans.
Because of the unusual way in which the day dawned, I had me an early breakfast, even though I could have slept late after an orgy last night, which is another story. I hied me to Hyde Park, there to hide and let the sun soak in my hide, and studied the flora, mostly by dozing off in snatches of blissful fifteen minute interludes. But as the sun reached the meridian, the yokels from different shires throughout England began to congregate in extraordinary numbers around the Serpentine, in the proximity of which was my bench. I passed through various stages of irritation, annoyance and anger as the Cockway kids, with their remarkable ease, asked me for (cheer)
chewing gum. They have developed a most obnoxious habit of doing this, aided and abetted by the American soldiers. But I have worked out a Machiavellian scheme (that is English for plan) which gives me untold inward pleasure. I give Feen-a-Mint and tells them they are Chicklets, the candy coated chewing gum. They go off, chewing with great gusto, and send back some of their [coreferes?]- and so the process continue until I run out of Feen-a-Mint. Who knows, but that in that way I may be the means of a great purge, and go down in history with other scientists like Pasture and Lydia Pinkham.
Somehow I have gotten side tracked from the subject, which was flora, so I will turn back to cluck to the orgy of of last night. It seems that these Mr and Mrs Stewart Ebbin, whom I met via Ellery and Alice St. Bill, knowing that I would be in London (I having previously told them)
arranged for me to meet a French refugee, whom I was to take out to dinner. That I did, that I did. But as she seemed to have no appreciation for my French, which is nil, and she was so drunk she could neither speak or understand American as differentiated from English, I brought me a bottle of Liebfraumilch for sixty three shillings (prices have gone up since your mother was a girl) and proceeded to drink it all myself. I do not know what became of the refugee. Maybe she got lost in the black-out, or what is more likely, probably met some one who could talk French, as we were in a French restaurant- the Maison Basque, which is’nt too bad. However the results of a full bottle of Liebfraumilch, encouraged me to get some exercise, by riding for three horus this afternoon in Hyde Park, which of course is the thing to do- but incidently a lousy place to ride.
Thus, I was enabled to study the fauna, which was in the shape of a horse, and that is
is all. The least was probably born in the stables of the House Guards in Rotten Row. There can be no doubt, that his early education was obtained, and entirely confined to the bridle path of the Pack. He would always walk where he was supposed to walk, trot and canter at the proper time and place, all of which is in harmony with the best tradition of equestrian etiquette of Hyde Park. But I am stubborn too, and in no way bound to the tradition of this merry-go-round. I want to canter where I want to canter and no horse is going to do me neigh (pun). There can be no question of my victory over this quadruped, and I am sure that if the grooms of Weathery, Syosett, et al should have witnessed my victory of mind over matter, they would have cheered as they cheer in the West stands of Meadowbrook, where Tommy Hitcock used to charge down the field on
Tribiana. If perchance I am here next Sunday I am going to get a pair of blue jeans, ride [wrth?] and old shirt (no tie and no hat) and iconoclast, that I am shatter once and for all the views the English hold on the advantages of the English hunting seat, over the forward seat, Wally would have enjoyed this to-day.
Having removed all means of identification (for benefit of censor, if not the rule) I am enclosing the luncheon and dinner menu of the hostel (good eh?) at which I am stopping at the moment. Never do I know what I am eating and as you may note, the menu is of little help. I just don’t sorry. Needless to say I had roast shoulder of pork for lunch, on account of that was the only thing I know how to order without getting into an argument with the waiter. For dinner I was more bold (also hungry after my ride) and ordered the Pot au Feu, which I knew must be some kind of soup, and the Poulet braise,
braise Piemontaise, which turned out to be a piece of chicken with rice. Poeding souffle Coloniae despite its name is just plain bread pudding with a custard sauce. Frankly I think your mother just came to London each year to find how to brush up on her French.
Because of the lack of good old beef, etc me is [empointed?] with the problem of trying to unravel a host of queer looking names for something disguised as food. Once I pointed to the menu and told the water to bring me some of “that”. Later I discovered I had eaten rabbit-pie, which would have been all right if I had remained in ignorance there of, but me having been enlightened, I had hare on my stomach (no pun) for some time. All I could think of was the little bunnies we see when we were out riding and they are much nicer that way than in a pie. [Sicuce?]
has also established that phosphate is a brain food. It is well recognized that dish contains phosphate. I am getting to be very very smart.
Careful observation will disclose that the news says nothing about coffee. Despite my insistence that it be served at my table in the dining room- I am firmly (almost bordering on impolitely) informed that coffee is served in the longue- and no dam Yankee will upset tradition as he has others. Seeing that I am getting nowhere, either with my sense of humour (English spelling) or my cajolery, I become reconciled finally to the idea that if I want coffee, I should retire to the lounge. This I do, and select one comfortable looking chair adjacent (or is it aja) to a coffee table, and am sipping my coffee, as are many other people, when an austere looking dowager passes in front of me with scowling glances. It
It seems she is Lady Hach, who ever that might be, and it at I had the opportunity, had breeding and every thing else to be occupying the chair that she has been using for this purpose for the past few decades ^which is a liberal estimate of time in her former^ so she plumps her plumpness in the chair (not so comfortable) on the other side of the coffee table, and there starts to play a game the object of which I do not get. First she pulls the coffee table over to her, so that my coffee is out of reach. Then I pull it towards me. And so it goes on, until I suggest that if we both move out chairs closer to the table, neither will have to move the table. But it seems that is’nt the object of the game.
At this point I recall that old adage of “when in Rome, do as the Romans do,” and I wonder what in hell a Roman could do, or how he could begin to understand. Then I get a thinking about the dining room and how every
body stares at me. It appears that I don’t push my food on the fork, which one holds in the left hand, using the knife to stuff on hunk of meat, then a piece of potato, and finally a piece of cauliflower, or perhaps a sprout, and convey this food sandwich to the mouth or proximity thereof, which holding a knife in the right hand and either pointing it at your companion across the table, or using it as a signal to summon the waiter. Then too it appears that when eating soup, I was taught to draw the poon away from me, not towards me, and to bring it up to the mouth a right angle, i. E with the side of the spoon to the mouth. This is absolutely wrong! Wrong both the method and technique. One should scrape the spoon noisily sling the bottom of the plate and toward you. This is important, because by this method you can empty the soup plate more quickly. Then with the lower lip protruding put the front of the spoon containing soup,
soup well in the mouth to that whole spoon is contained in the oral cavity. Then inhale through the mouth, making sure not to close some. The whole technique is much better if one has dentures and / or catarch, which seems to be the standard of the better class.
Having touched to some extent on the flora, fauna, and habits which one finds here (pronounced as having two, not one, syllable) I trust you will repeat some to your mother. I now turn to less serious things, such as the equipage for one Major Dartfords wife and daughter. They would be much beholden, no doubt grateful, if there trifles could be obtained. As to quality and cost, I would imagine they would be approximately the character you would get yourself- that is if you were getting them for yourself. The Dartfords are real folk. As I wrote in a note to Bactaea they should be paid for from my G. B. B. C. account and I would be reimbursed here, so my efforts in their behalf are
not as much altruistic as helpful.
It was good news to learn that Barbara has improved her job at sperrys. I hope it continues to keep her interested, and if she really sees the value there is in doing things of that sort her view on s lot of things will get clearer. I don't suppose that she has much chances to keep up her music with all the long hours etc, but there too is something she should’nt let lapse. At any rate tell her to take care of her health.
As to your hallucinations as to the poor state of my health, you are quite in error. I am not suffering from any maladies, and now that we have had two consecutive days of warm weather, it may be taken for granted that spring is here, and I will thaw out. It really would feel good to sweat again.
I am sorry that Galega sent Wally a board bill for Tippy. Before I left Teddy said he thought Wally should pay something to
to ride. But I did’nt respond because time was short and to really get Teddy to understand something different that any idea he got fixed in his head in a time consuming job requiring infinite patience, so I left the matter rest right there. It would’nt be right to have Teddy make any charge. In the first place, as you know, he is still my debtor for a considerable amount. The only way he has of liquidating it is for me to apply the board for my horses against the indebtedness. I am only too glad to have the horses get exercised by riders whom I know will take good care of them, and Wally is very fond of Tippy and I know would ride him they wayI would. The only thing I would think of suggesting to Wally, assuming he wants to continue to ride, is that he stand the expense of keeping
Tippy shod. That it seems to me is only fair. As for Lady and Sue, Teddy knows that I would’nt frown upon him letting other people ride them provided me, it did’nt interfere in any way with you or Beatrice ^or your guests^ riding anytime you wanted to, and secondly that only careful riders are permitted to use them, and not more than two hours a day.Under these circumstances Teddy would be more than welcome to any rentals, and it might help him. In short while I don’t want Lady or Sue hacked indiscriminately. I don;t want Teddy to feel that he can’t use them, for I believe he would use them with good judgement and with selected riders. Wally could and should use Tippy as he will; but I would suggest he keep him shod. At any rate among all the other things you have to do, see if you can’t get the above policy
policy in effect. Beatrice can, I am sure, because Teddy is very fond of her, and I don’t think would try to argue the point. I feel sure if Teddy sees the point he will agree I am right. I don’t want to have any friction between Teddy and Wally, but Teddy just assumes things at times. It wo0uld just be to bad if because of relatively unimportant things, the fun and mutual advantages should’nt be realized.
And Now I have about exhausted things to write about, and am gradually getting a cramp in my writing hand. I hope that you had a pleasant birthday. Share my love with Nancy and Barbara.
Dewey
[Enclosed Menu]
[Enclosed Menu]
Major E. D. Hill-
A5-(SS) Supreme Hqt Allied Exp Force
A.P.O. 757- Postmaster N.Y.
rec’d May 1
British eating habits + Syosset horses
Mrs E. D. Hill
76 Fourth Street
Garden City L. I.
New York. U.S.A.