Letter from P. Wilson
to Donald McLean,
dated 23rd. May 1853.
23rd. May 1853.
My dear Mac.,
You are the most decidedly troublesome correspondent I ever had; not, goodness knows, on account of the frequency of your communications, but because no one can, with any certainty, guess where you are to be met with. Thus, not long ago. I was told you were at Wanganui on your way to Auckland; so off went, post after post, two very important letters to your address, poste restante, there; and then, no doubt, in obedience to the direction, they remain there for you. But on Saturday, I am told you have returned from Ahuriri to "ellington. I have no hopes earthly that this will meet you there; but I give it a chance of overtaking you somewhere, and some day; but poste restante, in so far as you are concerned, I banish from my vocabulary.
I have been busy for this fortnight past, now and then, writing out my late overland journal to Whanganui. I meant to have cast my observations on that place, in the form of letters, and published them;
but I could get no accuracy of statistics from Rees; who, when I was at Petone, seemed all anxiety for some-thing of the sort; and yet when his assistance is required, he gives me next to nothing; and that, in such a way as not to be depended on. I shall send it to Sir George; who, after all, is the only literary man among you, at least I think so; and that is sufficient for my purpose.
I have lost two books, and think it far from unlikely that you have them, viz.---Hursthouse's book on New Plymouth; and Busby, on the Vine. Please to let me know; as on account of my scribbling thereon, I do not feel easy that they should have got into other hands.
Halse, I think, will carry the Superintendency here. Wicksteed, I conceive, has no great chance; and C. Brown has lost considerably lately by his being suspected of being one of the selfsaving Dorset fraternity, as regards dear land. The poor creature wrote a long pitiful affair in our last "herald"; which has made bad worse; and he will get a famous hiding for his pains in next issue of the paper be honest enough to give the letters alluded to, insertion. He is the poorest creature at expressing himself, that ever had the impudence to aspire to office; and the truth, I suspect, is that there is nothing in him.
We are all well here, and very gay; but in such uncertainty as to your locality, it is needless to give you the details of our ongoings; so with our united kind regards,
my dear Mac.
ever faithfully yours,
(Signed) P. Wilson.
P.S. Leech says he wishes you would take the trouble to tell the Editor of the newspaper to address to you elsewhere than here, as it is very round about the present way.