I have specially provided 5 or 6 big and strong cock fowles and their females for boiling on the day they will honour my poor house and some biscuits and sodda waters and whisky. I have also some syrop of home made which is strong and very delicshous. If your sons are like you and not taking whisky then I can substitute another unintoxicating liquid for that. Kindly inform on what day they will arrive at my poor house that I may arrange their coming comfortably from railway station for the 10 miles to my poor house. If you can come so much better but send your sons by all means. With respects, I am, Yours sincerely. A BABU LETTER SIR, Last night while perambulating city in search of evenings zephyrs I came to learn of the demise of Babu ... of your Honour's office who leaves widow and sorrowing children who will feed their bellies the Devil knows how. I submit myself to your Honour's approval and patronage for the vacancy. For my qualifications I am damnably well up in precise-writing (Note. He means précis writing) and am much addicted to the swearing of European oaths. I am no believing old and rotten superstition of ancient forefathers, but am iconoclast smashing idols to detriment of damn scoundrels. If I should be successful for the post, I and my wife and children will fall on our bended knees, as in duty bound, and offer up prayers for your Honour, your Honour's lady, and your posthumous children to follow up hereafter. Your most obedient servant. "LOVE, WITH A WITNESS!" [Sidenote: _Hood_] He has shaved off his whiskers and blackened his brows, Wears a patch and a wig of false hair-- But it's him--oh, it's him !--we exchanged lover's vows When I lived up in Cavendish Square. He had beautiful eyes, and his lips were the same, And his voice was as soft as a flute-- Like a Lord or a Marquis he looked, when he came To make love in his master's best suit. If I lived for a thousand long years from my birth, I shall never forget what he told-- How he loved me beyond the rich women of earth, With their jewels and silver and gold! When he kissed me, and bade me adieu with a sigh, By the light of the sweetest of moons, Oh, how little I dreamt I was bidding good-bye To my Misses's teapot and spoons! MR TESTATOR [Sidenote: _Charles Dickens_]