Chapter_365

7 0 00

January 2

“This Box contains Manuscripts. One guinea will be paid to anyone who in case of danger from fire saves it from damage or loss.”

Signed: W. N. P. Barbellion.

I have had this printed in large black characters on a card, framed and nailed to my “coffin” of Journals. I told the printer first to say “Two Guineas,” but he suggested that One Guinea was quite enough. I agreed but wondered how the devil he knew what the Journals were worth⁠—nobody knows.

Next month, I expect I shall have a “hand” painted on the wall and pointing towards the box. And the month after that I shall hire a fireman to be on duty night and day standing outside No. 101 in a brass helmet and his hatchet up at the salute.

These precious Journals! Supposing I lost them! I cannot imagine the anguish it would cause me. It would be the death of my real self and as I should take no pleasure in the perpetuation of my flabby, flaccid, anaemic, amiable puppet-self, I should probably commit suicide.