Letters from Harold Edward 'Pompey' Elliott to his sister-in-law, April 1915 - December 1916 - Part 8

France
22/9/16
My dear Baaby,
I had your letter
all right for which many thanks
Did you ever hear the like of
Miss Davidson. Now Mr Roberts
& M [[ ^r ]] Roddick will be working
night & day trying to keep
things going in my absence
Naturally they are not in half
the time people call. It would be
a very simple thing for her to give
them a ring or drop a note
telling them she was coming
in. This is always the sort of
thing that happens & yet if
Mr Roberts got some one else
in in my place they would
not give a second’s thought
to help me when I came back
to find myself out of a job. 
It is no wonder it is difficult
to get men to volunteer when
people are so absolutely unreasonable
Miss Davidson’s business hardly pays
for the stamps as a matter of fact 
 

But people of Miss Davidson’s type are
All so funny. I remember too a
row I had with Mrs Cruiky. I arranged
a loan for her at 5 ½ % which
both Vera whose money it was
& the man agreed to pay. I had it
Valued [[ fwhich ]] for which the man
had to pay. In the meantime
someone had told Vera that she
ought to get 6 % & so Mrs
Cruiky came in & said she
must have 6 % too. I pointed
out this was quite impossible
As I could not do business on
those lines & she had put the
poor borrower who was probably
hard up to the expense of valuing
his home. After a while she calmed
down & said anyhow any fresh
loans would have to be at 6 %.
Of course I said that is all right
but she must [[ ^not ]] expect to get such
good security. Another time
she wanted to lend money on
Bills of Sale something that would
bring in about 10 %. I had the 
 

greatest difficulty in persuading
her that it was madness for her
to go & put her money in such
investments for the risks were
considerable and if she lost
her money she would be ruined
That a moneylender who has
already lots of money can afford
to take such risks because
two or three hundreds lost are
nothing to them & the extra rate
of interest on the large number
which turn out all right
make it worth his while
to chance it. But these women
make me tired. She seemed
quite put out about it. Also
a loan was submitted to us over
some of those brummy [[ commons ]]
houses in Londsdale street. I was
out at the time she came in &
Mr Roberts placed it before her
The interest was very tempting but
the police are always liable to
kick those sort of people out &
you might have great difficulty 
 

in selling such a house because
decent people might not buy it.
If Mrs Cruiky [[ ^Cruikshank ]] had a lot of money
she could chance it for the higher rate
just as rich people can afford to
back horses but madness for her
in my opinion. Yet she seemed
again quite offended because I
would not let her go in for it.
Yet if I had & she had lost
one single penny my name would
have been mud for ever. It
was the same when she sent
money over to [[ ^{her son} ]] George. I said
she ought to invest in having a
Mortgage so [[ ^that ]] if George went [[ boing ]] [[ ^broke ]]
she would get the money back but
no she wouldn’t she said she would
not worry the poor boy. It would look
as if she didn’t trust him to
pay her back. Then when George
did go [[ boing ]] [[ ^broke ]] & the Creditors took
everything she walked into my
office & said I should have arranged
so that she could have got paid before
the Creditors. But if I roused her [[ ^{I had to submit to it for} ]] 
 

up over it [[ ^otherwise ]]. she would go elsewhere
I do not wonder at Solicitors
getting hardened. No matter how good
good [[ ^careful ]] you try to be to people they
are never satisfied & it is just
as well to console yourself by
Charging them pretty hot. I charged
Mrs Cruiky [[ ^Cruikshank ]] or Miss Davidson
hardly any thing to speak of for 
the amount of work I did for them
I wish they could have a go with
old John Kiddle. When a man
cam in to complain of an overcharge
Old John used to push his specs
up on his forehead lay down his
pen with such an air of disgust
& say ”My dear Sirr do you think
an office like this can be kept
up for nothing” & 19 times out
of twenty the poor chap would wilt [[ ^apologise ]]
away & pay up without a word
more. And he used to charge some
too. I remember making out a Bill
once & it came out about £ 25. I
took it in to him & said it comes 
 

out to £ 25 but it seems a lot
to charge for that piece of work.
(It had been a lot of bother getting
some land through the Titles office & the
people were not well off). He said
Oh well I ll look over it & see what
can be done. When next I saw the
Bill it was in the Costs Book &
Old John had made it up to £ 44
& what is more got it paid too
without a murmur. Thats a lovely
story about the wee laddie scaring Gagy [[ ^Dhurach ]]
off Mr Trowbridges Knee by threatening
to talk about grubs. What a cute little 
rubbish he must be. I have had another
little note from Mademoiselle Brunet
where I was billetted. She says “in French”
[[ ^{(The photo was one of her father & brother.)} ]]
“Sir
I am sending you the photo I promised.
Forgive me for being so long about it.
We thank you very much again for
your good but too short Visit. We
Assure you that it caused us great
pleasure.
We hope Sir that you are Keeping well 
 

& have good news of Madam (i e Katie)
& of your “gentle” children.
Here everything goes well. Father
at present is at Bergues & my brother
is [[ ^{has been} ]] at the Somme since a fortnight
14 days ago.
We have had no troops here since
you left.
Please give our Kind regards
to all the gentlemen & receive
the expression of my greatest esteem.
M. Brunet.
The last part is the French
way of finishing up a letter
just as we say “Yours
Sincerely.”
Also the word “gentils” is not quite
our word for “gentle” more like
as we say “nice” i.e. a lady is nice
they would say “gentil”
Perhaps in the sense used above the
best & nearest English expression would
be ”your dear children” rather
gushing dont you Know-style.
I enclose the letter & the photo 
 

as a souvenir.We posted letters on the
Boat at Marseilles just before leaving so
you should have got them all right.
The little book of Views I asked
the Shop lady to post through the French
Post [[ e ]] Office & I put a Stamp upon
it as I thought it would reach you
quicker that way. Things are
pretty quiet over here or would
be if we would let the old Boche alone
But we Keep bombarding his old lines
until he is compelled to answer us
& then we bombard him some more to
make him shut up. Yours & Katies
letters were lost delayed this time.
I had one from Mr Roberts of the same
date several days ago.
Haven’t seen Jacky Boy since
last I wrote. Heaps of Pogues.
Dont forget to tell Me plenty of stories
about the Bairnies.
Yours sincerely
H E Elliott  
 

France
28/10/16
My dear Baaby
I have only time
to write a wee letter because I am
just going up with my boys for
a return in the Trenches here
& will have to leave live in a 
rabbit burrow in the ground as
we did on Gallipoli. I dont think
there will be many letters written
there as sometimes the men have
to go hungry because food cannot
be carried through the awful mud
to them. I rode up yesterday &
it took over 6 hours to go 3 miles
up & three back. My poor old
horse was quite Knocked up
floundering through shell holes
up to its Knees in mud &
water. Once he fell with me & I
thought I’d never get him up again
for the mud was like glue & he
simply couldnt lift himself at 
 

all. So [[ ^I ]] got a couple of Artillery
men to give him a push up
I am afraid he has strained his
leg a bit though. I would be sorry
if anything happened. He is the big
black horse that I have had
ever since Broadmeadows Camp
The boys used to say in Egypt
that he used to watch the men for
me & if one moved he would carry
me right up to him. I went
through the remains of a little
wood where some of the fiercest
fighting took place. The trees that
were not blown to pieces are quite
dead with the flames & fumes of
the Shells. The place is full of shell
holes & so many were Killed there
that the water that oozes out & collects
into the shell holes is still all
stained with their blood. Isn’t
so queer how that little rubbish of a