This is what he wrote:
"Dear Father,--I dare say you will think it queer me writing you a
letter like this, but it is the best thing I can do, and I hope you will
excuse me. I dare say you will remember I told you that night when you
came home late from Manchester here in the attic that I wanted to be an
architect. You replied that what I wanted was business experience. If
you say that I have not had enough business experience yet, I agree to
that, but I want it to be understood that later on, when it is the
proper time, I am to be an architect. You know I am very fond of
architecture, and I feel that I must be an architect. I feel I shall
not be happy in the printing business because I want to be an architect.
I am now nearly seventeen. Perhaps it is too soon yet for me to be
apprenticed to an architect, and so I can go on learning business
habits. But I just want it to be understood. I am quite sure you wish
me to be happy in life, and I shan't be happy if I am always regretting
that I have not gone in for being an architect. I know I shall like
architecture.--Your affectionate son, Edwin Clayhanger."
Then, as an afterthought, he put the date and his address at the top.
He meditated a postscript asking for a reply, but decided that this was
unnecessary. As he was addressing the envelope Mrs Nixon called out to
him from below to come to tea. He was surprised to find that he had
spent over an hour on the letter. He shivered and sneezed.
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