Letters and journal pages in transcription

Reading transcription of the supplied image. Line breaks are retained where useful; [unclear] marks uncertain handwriting and [image ends] marks text continuing beyond the supplied page. These are provisional readings, not a critical edition. Source: Estate archives.

72 Rathgar Road 1st June 97 My dear Abraham I have waited to thank you for your Book till I had read it, & could tell you what I think of it, My dear it is splendid, a thousand miles beyond anything you have written before & I feel certain will [image ends]

place you very high in the writers of the day, the story & style being deeply sensational exciting & interesting ever your loving old Mother Ch. B. Stoker

What you wish to pay as salary – or part salary & share or what you will, or will tell me his Conditions and duration of tour & I can name a sum as salary. I should like to meet your wishes, in all ways I can consistent with my own interest. I shall be here for two weeks but it is possible that I may have to run up to town for poor Toole’s funeral as I have just had a wire advising me of his death. In such case I can call & see Keene if you will let me know his address. As you are leaving so soon it may be of some assistance in judging your expenses if I tell you my salary with Irving – of course in strict confidence. When he gave up the Lyceum I had £40 per week in [unclear] & £50 in London with one [continues on the adjoining page]

[Right-hand page repeats the page shown in BSE-194; read its transcription above. The following is the adjoining left-hand page, turned for reading.] week added to each tour to cover work before & after. Of course if you approve it, & will send me a wire I shall run up to town at once & see your people before you go out. [unclear] I shall do all I can. The only thing that stands in my way is that I have undertaken to give some lectures in the Autumn & Spring. They are not many as the booking is just beginning but of course I should have to keep faith with the other parties. You might let me have a wire on hearing this if you can. Believe me Yours very sincerely Bram Stoker

Night fishing A grey sky – broken & dark patches of cloud [unclear] [unclear] sky look bright. A low line of [unclear] along the horizon in the East. A dark grey sea luminous towards the horizon – more [unclear]. A line of surf along the shore. A low wet wind sighing softly by the sea side. The fishermen dragging their nets in silence. The nets as they rise from the water are starred with phosphorescent lights. As the end of the net [unclear] the lead line comes up [unclear] the [unclear] the fish are seen struggling in the net & [unclear] their white bellies through the shallow water. The fishermen [unclear] [unclear] the foot of the net and [unclear] [unclear] with every wave. Across the sea gleam the lighthouses [unclear] fires now rising to life, blazing full and then [unclear] again [unclear]. [unclear] look black against the sky. A low window [unclear] fitted in shore – [unclear] the shadow of a fisherman’s door [unclear] dull rays of light and [unclear] around [unclear] the [unclear] of the waves – the gentle sighing of the wind [unclear] [unclear] sounds – but [unclear] the occasional [unclear] [unclear] shore [unclear]. Unconsciously [unclear] instinctively we remain silent [unclear] 3.8.71 1 a.m.

Dreamland We have [unclear] afar from sorrow: we have winged above the azure In a land away from waking we have fixed on our abodes Here our troubles are forgotten, and we find a childish pleasure Building up our stately castles with our earthly borne loads. Leave us – Leave us friends, that love us: we are happy in forgetting [unclear] pity more than us from the thornes whereon we rest Only think of us as happy. When the sun is brightly setting You may see our pleasant Dreamland in the clouds along the West. Leave us in our golden palaces in that happy Dreamland glorious Far, away from woes and troubles in the land of nature’s [unclear] Where the flowers are live with music and [unclear] [unclear] painted flowers [unclear] the strains of quiet gladness – whisper-echoes from the earth But alas! how frail our castles our stately mansions builded. They are founded not on rock, but are reared upon the sand And our Dreamland melts in shadow with the [unclear] splendour [unclear] in By the voice of nature speaking or the touch of human hand 28/1/73