Extract from “Readers’ Queries” in “The Literary Weekly”: 

Q. What is it which determines First Edition values? Is it entirely a question of the author’s literary reputation?

A. Not entirely, but obviously to a great extent. An additional factor is the original size of the first edition, which generally means that an established author’s earliest books are more valuable than his later ones. Some authors, moreover, are more fashionable than others with bibliophiles, for reasons not always easy to detect; nor does there seem to be any explanation why an author, whose reputation as a writer has never varied, should be highly sought after by collectors at one time, and then suddenly become completely out of fashion. So perhaps all that we can say with confidence is that prices of First Editions, like those of everything else, are determined by the Laws of Supply and Demand.
 
 

Dear Mr. Haverhill,

     It may be within your memory that on the occasion of an afternoon visit which you and Mrs. Haverhill were good enough to pay us two years ago I was privileged to lend her Chapman’s well-known manual on the Viola, which, somewhat surprisingly, she had never come across; I say surprisingly, for undoubtedly he is our greatest authority on the subject. If by any chance she has now read it, I should be very much obliged by its return at your convenience. I would not trouble you in this matter but for the fact that the book  is temporarily out of print, and I have been unable therefore to purchase another copy for myself.

     Miss Winters is away for a few days, or she would join me in sending compliments to you and Mrs. Haverhill.

      Yours very truly,
       Henry Winters.
 

Dear Winters,

     I was much distressed to get your letter this morning and to discover that Sally and I had been behaving so badly. It is probably as much my fault as hers, but she is away with her people in Somerset just now, and I think must have taken your book with her; so for the moment I can do nothing about it but apologise humbly for both of us. I have of course written to her, and asked her to send it back to you at once, or, if it is here in the house, to let me know where she has hidden it.

      Again all my apologies,

       Yours sincerely,
        Brian Haverhill.
 

Darling,

     Read the enclosed and tell me how disgraced you feel—and how annoyed you think Winters is. I don’t care for that bit about purchasing another copy for himself. He meant it nasty-like, if you ask me. Still, two years is a long time to take over a book, and you ought to have spelt it out to yourself more quickly. I could have helped you with the longer words.

     The funny thing is I don’t seem to remember anything about this viola book, nor whether it is the sort you play or the sort you grow, but I do seem to remember some other book which he forced on us—essays of some sort, at a guess. Can you help? Because if there were two, we ought to send both back together. I have staved him off for a bit by saying that you were so devoted to Chapman that you had taken the damned book with you. It doesn’t sound likely to me, but it may to him. And why haven’t we seen Winters and his saintly sister for two years? Not that I mind—on the contrary—but I just wondered. Are we cutting them or are they cutting us? One would like to know the drill in case of an accidental meeting in the village.

     My love to everybody, and lots of a very different sort to your darling self. Bless you. Your Brian.
 
 

Darlingest, I did mean to ring you up last night but our line has broken down or the rent hasn’t been paid or something, and I couldn’t do it in the village, not properly.

     How awful about Mr. Winters! It was flowers of course, silly, not musical instruments, because I was talking about violas to him when you were talking about the Litany to Honoria, I remember it perfectly, I was wearing my blue and yellow cotton, and one of her stockings was coming down. But you’re quite right about the other one, it was called Country Filth and very disappointing. It must be somewhere. Do send them both back at once, darling—you’ll find Chapman among the garden books—and say how sorry I am. And then I’ll write myself. 

     Yes, I think he’s really angry, he’s not a very nice man.

     No, I don’t think we’ve quarrelled. I did ask them both to our cocktail party a few weeks later, but being strict T.T.’s which I only found out afterwards, Honoria was rather stiff about it. Don’t you remember? And then I asked them to tea, and they were away, and then I sort of felt that it was their turn to write. I’ll try again if you like when I come home…
 
 

Darling Sal,

1. Don’t try again.

2. I have found Chapman nestling among the detective stories. I deduced that it would be there as soon as you said garden books.

3. Books aren’t called Country Filth, not in Honoria’s house anyway, and if they were, what would you be hoping that they were like? Tell your mother that I’m surprised at you.

4. There are a thousand books in the library, not to mention hundreds all over the place, and I can’t possibly look through them all for one whose title, size, colour and contents are completely unknown to me. So pull yourself together, there’s a dear, and send me a telegram with all that you remember about it.

5. I adore you. 

        Brian.
 
 

     Something about country by somebody like Morgan or Rivers sort of ordinary size and either biscuit colour or blue all my love Sal.
 

Country Tilth: The Prose Ramblings of a Rhymester: by Mortimer Scrivens (Street and Co.)

1. A World Washed Clean.

Long ere His Majesty the Sun had risen in His fiery splendour, and while yet the first faint flush of dawn, rosy herald of His coming, still lingered in the east, I was climbing (but how blithely!) the ribbon of road, pale-hued, which spanned the swelling mother-breasts of the downland. At melodic intervals, with a melancholy which little matched my mood, the lone cry of the whimbrel…
 
 

     O lord, Sally, we’re sunk! I’ve found the damned book—Country Tilth by Mortimer Scrivens. It’s ghastly enough inside, but outside—darling, there’s a large beer-ring such as could never have been there originally, and looking more like the ring made by a large beer-mug than any beer-ring ever did. You can almost smell the beer. I swear I didn’t do it, I don’t treat books like that, not even ghastly books, it was probably Bill when he was last here. Whoever it was, we can’t possibly send it back like this.

 What shall I do?

 1. Send back Chapman and hope that he has forgotten about this one; which seems likely as he didn’t mention it in his letter.

 2. Send both back, and hope that he’s a secret beer-drinker and made the mark himself.

 3. Apologise for the mark, and say I think it must be milk.

 4. Get another copy and pass it off as the one he lent us. I suppose Warbecks would have it.

 What do you advise? I must do something about the viola book soon, I feel. I wish you were here…
 
 

 One and Four darling writing Sal.
 
 

Dear Sirs,

     I shall be glad if you can find me a first-edition of Country Tilth by Mortimer Scrivens. It was published by Street in 1923. If it is a second-hand copy, it is important that it should be fairly clean, particularly the cover. I should doubt if it ever went into a second edition.

      Yours faithfully,
       Brian Haverhill.
 
 

Dear Winters,

     I now return your book with our most profound apologies for keeping it so long. I can only hope that you were not greatly inconvenienced by its absence. It is, as you say, undoubtedly the most authoritative work on the subject, and our own violas have profited greatly by your kindness in introducing us to it.

     Please give my kindest regards to Miss Winters if she is now with you. I hope you are both enjoying this beautiful weather.

      Yours sincerely,
       Brian Haverhill.
 
 

Dear Mr. Winters,

     Can you ever forgive me for my unpardonable carelessness in keeping that delightful book so long? I need hardly say that I absorbed every word of it, and then put it carefully away, meaning to return it next morning, but somehow it slipped my memory in the way things do—well, it’s no good trying to explain, I must just hope that you will forgive me, and when I come home—I am staying with my people for three weeks—perhaps you will let us show you and Miss Winters how well our violas are doing now—thanks entirely to you!

     A very nice message to Miss Winters, please, and try to forgive,

      Yours most sincerely,
       Sarah Haverhill.
 
 

Darling,

     I hope you have sent the book back because I simply grovelled to the man yesterday, and I had to say I hoped they’d come and see our violas when I got back, but of course it doesn’t mean anything. What I meant by my telegram was send the book back, which I expect you’ve done, and try and get a copy of the other just in case  he remembers later on. If it’s such a very bad book it can’t cost much. Bill is here for a few days and says that he never makes beer-rings on books, and it must be one of your family, probably Tom, and Mother says that there is a way of removing beer-rings from books if only she could remember what it was, which looks as though she must have got the experience from my family not yours, but it doesn’t help much. Anyhow I’m sure he’s forgotten all about the book, and it was clever of you to find it, darling, and I do hope my telegram helped…
 
 

Dear Sir,

    We have received your instructions re Country Tilth, and shall do our best to obtain a copy of the first edition for you. If it is not in stock, we propose to advertise for it. We note that it must be a fairly clean copy.

     Assuring you of our best attention at all times,

     Yours faithfully,
     H. and E. Warbecks Ltd.
     (p.p. J. W. F.)
 
 

Dear Mr. Haverhill,

     I am glad to acknowledge receipt of The Care of the Viola by Reynolds Chapman which arrived this morning. My impression was that the copy which I had the pleasure of lending Mrs. Haverhill two years ago was a somewhat newer and cleaner edition, but doubtless the passage of so long a period of time would account for the difference. I am not surprised to hear from Mrs. Haverhill that the book has been of continued value to her. It has been so to me, whenever in my possession, for a good many years.

      Yours very truly,
       Henry Winters.
 
 

Darling Sally,

     Just to get your values right before you come back to me: It is the Haverhills who are cutting the Winterses, and make no mistake about it. I enclose his foul letter. From now on no grovelling. Just a delicate raising of the eyebrows when you meet him, expressing surprise that the authorities have done nothing and he is still about.

     Warbecks are trying to get another copy of Country Tilth, but I doubt if they will, because I can’t see anybody keeping such a damn silly book. Well, I don’t mind if they don’t. Obviously Winters has forgotten all about it, and after his ill-mannered letter I see no reason for reminding him…
 
 

Sweetie Pie,

     What a brute the man is, he never even acknowledged my letter, and I couldn’t have been nicer. I think you should definitely tell Warbecks that you don’t want the book now, and if he does ask for it ever, you either say that he never lent it to you or else send back the copy we’ve got, and say that the beer-mark was always there because you remember wondering at the time, him being supposed not to have beer in the house, which was why you hadn’t sent it back before, just seeing it from the outside and not thinking it could possibly be his copy. Of course I shall never speak to him again, horrible man. Mother says there used to be a Dr. Winters in Exeter when she was a girl, and he had to leave the country suddenly, but of course it may not be any relation…
 
 

     Sally darling, you’re ingenious and sweet and I love you dearly, but you must learn to distinguish between the gentlemanly lies you can tell and the other sort. Don’t ask your mother to explain this to you, ask your father or Bill. Not that it matters as far as Winters is concerned. We’ve finished with him, thank God…
 
 

Dear Sirs,

     My attention has been fortuitously called to your advertisement enquiring for a copy of the 1st Edition of Mortimer Scrivens’ Country Tilth. I am the fortunate possessor of a 1st Edition of this much-sought-after item, which I shall be willing to sell if we can come to a suitable financial arrangement. I need hardly remind you that 1st editions of Mortimer Scrivens are a considerable rarity in the market, and I shall await your offer with some interest.

      Yours faithfully,
       Henry Winters.
 
 

Dear Honoria,

     I trust that your health is profiting by what I still consider to be your unnecessary visit to Harrogate. Do you remember a book of essays by Mortimer Scrivens called Country Tilth, which used to be, and had been for upwards of twenty-five years, in the middle shelf on the right-hand side of the fireplace? I have looked for it, not only there but in all the other shelves, without result, and I can only conclude that you have taken it up to your bedroom recently, and that it has since been put away in some hiding place of your own. It is of the utmost importance  that I should have this book AT ONCE, and I shall be obliged by your immediate assistance in the matter. 

     The weather remains fine, but I am gravely inconvenienced by your absence, and shall be relieved by your return.

      Your affec. brother,
       Henry Winters.
 
 

Dear Henry,

     Thank you for your letter. I am much enjoying my stay here, and Frances and I have been making a number of pleasant little “sorties” to places of interest in the neighbourhood, including one or two charming old churches. Our hotel is very quiet, thanks to the fact that it has no licence to provide intoxicating drink, with the result that an extremely nice class of person comes here. Already we are feeling the beneficial effects of the change, and I hope that when I return—on Monday the 24th—I shall be completely restored to health.

     Frances sends her kindest remembrances to you, for although you have never met her, she has so often learnt of you in my letters that she feels that she knows you quite well!

     Your affectionate sister,
      Honoria.

P.S. Don’t forget to tell Mrs. Harding in advance if you are not going to London next Thursday, as this was the day when we had arranged for the window-cleaner to come. She can then arrange for any other day suitable to you. You lent that book to the Haverhills when they came to tea about two years ago, together with your Viola book. I remember because you told me to fetch it for you. I haven’t seen it since, so perhaps you lent it afterwards to somebody else.
 
 

Dear Sir,

     We have received notice of a copy of the 1st edition of this book in private possession, but before entering into negotiations with the owner it would be necessary to have some idea of the outside price which you would be prepared to pay. We may say that we have no replies from the trade, and if this copy is not secured, it may be difficult to obtain another. First editions of this author are notoriously scarce, and we should like to feel that, if necessary, we could go as high as £5, while endeavouring, of course, to obtain it for less. Trusting to have your instructions in the matter at your early convenience,

      Yours faithfully,
       H. & E. Warbecks Ltd.
 
 

Dear Sirs,

     I had assumed when I wrote to you that a first edition of this book, being of no literary value, would not have cost more than a few shillings, and in any case £1 would have been my limit, including your own commission. In the circumstances I will ask you to let the matter drop, and to send me your account for any expense to which I have put you. 

      Yours faithfully,
       Brian Haverhill.
 
 

Dear Sir, 

     I now find, as must always have been known to yourself, that at the time of my lending Mrs. Haverhill The Care of the Viola by Reynolds Chapman, I also lent her, or you, a 1st edition of Country Tilth by Mortimer Scrivens. In returning the first named book to me two years later, you ignored the fact that you had this extremely rare book in your possession, presumably in the hope that I should not notice its absence from my shelves. I must ask you therefore to return it immediately, before I take other steps in the matter.

      Yours faithfully,
       Henry Winters.
 
 

Dear Sirs,

     This is to confirm my telephone message this morning that I am prepared to pay up to £5 for a 1st edition of Country Tilth, provided that it is in reasonably good condition. The matter, I must say again, is of the most urgent importance.

      Yours faithfully,
       Brian Haverhill.
 
 

     O hell, darling, all is discovered. I had a snorter from that devil this morning, demanding the instant return of Country Tilth, and this just after I had told Warbecks not to bother any more! They had written to say that they only knew of one copy in existence (I told you nobody would keep the damn thing) and that the man might want £5 for it. So naturally I said “£5 my foot.” I have now rung them up to withdraw my foot, which I had so rashly put in it, and say “£5.” But £5 for a blasted book which nobody wants to read—and just because of a beer-ring which is its only real contact with life—seems a bit hard. Let this be a lesson to all of us never to borrow books, at least never from T.T.’s. Alternatively, of course, to return them in less than two years—there is that…
 
 

Dear Sir,

     If you will forward us your copy of the 1st edn. of this book for our inspection, we shall then be in a position to make what we hope you will consider a very satisfactory offer for it in accordance with its condition. Awaiting a reply at your earliest convenience, as the matter is of some urgency.

      Yours faithfully,
       H. and E. Warbecks Ltd.
 
 

Sir,

     Unless I receive my copy of this book within 24 hours I shall be compelled to consult my solicitors.

      Yours faithfully,
      Henry Winters.
 
 

Dear Sirs,

 In confirmation of my telephone message this morning I authorise you to make a firm offer of £10 for the 1st edn. of this book for which you are negotiating, provided that it is delivered within the next 24 hours.

      Yours faithfully,
       Brian Haverhill.
 
 

Sir,

     We are still awaiting a reply to our letter of the 18th asking you to forward your copy of the 1st edn. of this book for our inspection. We are now authorised by our client to say that he is prepared to pay £10 for your copy,  provided that its condition is satisfactory to him, and that we receive delivery of it by the 22nd inst. After that date he will not be interested in the matter.

      Yours faithfully,
       H. & E. Warbecks Ltd.
 
 

Sir,

     The enclosed copy of a letter from Messrs. Warbecks speaks for itself. You have the alternative of returning my book immediately or sending me your cheque for £10. Otherwise I shall take legal action.

      H. Winters.
 
 

Darling one, what do you think has happened!!! This morning we drove into Taunton just after you rang up, Mother having suddenly remembered it was Jacqueline’s birthday to-morrow, and in a little bookshop down by the river I found a copy of Country Tilth in the 6d box! Quite clean too and no name inside it, so I sent it off at once to Mr. Winters, with a little letter just saying how sorry I was to have kept it so long, and not telling a single “other sort” except for being a little sarcastic which I’m sure is quite a gentlemanly thing to be. So, darling, you needn’t bother any more, and after I come back on Monday (HOORAY!) we’ll go up to London for a night and spend the £10 I’ve saved you. What fun! Only of course you  must ring up Warbecks at once...
 
 

Dear Mr. Winters,

     I am sending back the other book you so kindly lent me. I am so sorry I kept it so long, but it had completely disappeared, and poor Brian has been looking everywhere for it, and worrying terribly, thinking you would think I was trying to steal it or something! Wasn’t it crazy of him? As if you would!—and as if the book was worth stealing when I saw a copy of it in the 6d box at Taunton this very morning! I expect you’ll be wondering where I found your copy. Well, it was most odd. I happened to be looking in my dressing-case just now, and there is a flap in the lid which I hardly ever use, and I noticed it was rather bulging—and there was the book! I’ve been trying to remember when I last used this particular dressing-case, because it looks as though I must have taken the book away with me directly after you so kindly lent it to me, and of course I remembered that it was just before I came to see my people, which I do every year at this time, that we came to see you!

     I must now write and tell Brian the good news, because after turning the house upside down looking for it, he was actually advertising for a copy to replace it, and offering £10—ten pounds, think of it, when its actual value is sixpence! Wouldn’t it have been awful if some horrible mercenary person who happened to have a copy had taken advantage of his ignorance of book prices and swindled him? But, whatever its value, it doesn’t make it any the less kind of you to have lent it to me, or careless of me to have forgotten about it so quickly.

      Yours most sincerely,
       Sarah Haverhill.

P.S. Isn’t this hot weather delightful? Just perfect for sunbathing. I can see you and Miss Winters simply revelling  in it.