Whether the great Creator of the world and the creature of his hands, moulded in his own image, be quite so opposite in character as you believe, is a question which it would profit us little to discuss. I like the frankness and candour of your letter, and thank you for it. That every man who seeks heaven must be born again, in good thoughts of his Maker, I sincerely believe. That it is expedient for every hound to say so in a certain snuffling form of words, to which he attaches no good meaning, I do not believe. I take it there is no difference between us. Faithfully yours. [Sidenote: Mr. Douglas Jerrold.] DEVONSHIRE TERRACE, _June 13th, 1843._ MY DEAR JERROLD, Yes, you have anticipated my occupation. Chuzzlewit be d----d. High comedy and five hundred pounds are the only matters I can think of. I call it "The One Thing Needful; or, A Part is Better than the Whole." Here are the characters: Old Febrile Mr. FARREN. Young Febrile (his Son) Mr. HOWE. Jack Hessians (his Friend) Mr. W. LACY. Chalks (a Landlord) Mr. GOUGH. Hon. Harry Staggers Mr. MELLON. Sir Thomas Tip Mr. BUCKSTONE. Swig Mr. WEBSTER. The Duke of Leeds Mr. COUTTS. Sir Smivin Growler Mr. MACREADY. Servants, Gamblers, Visitors, etc. Mrs. Febrile Mrs. GALLOT. Lady Tip Mrs. HUMBY. Mrs. Sour Mrs. W. CLIFFORD. Fanny Miss A. SMITH. One scene, where Old Febrile tickles Lady Tip in the ribs, and afterwards dances out with his hat behind him, his stick before, and his eye on the pit, I expect will bring the house down. There is also another point, where Old Febrile, at the conclusion of his disclosure to Swig, rises and says: "And now, Swig, tell me, have I acted well?" And Swig says: "Well, Mr. Febrile, have you ever acted ill?" which will carry off the piece. Herne Bay. Hum. I suppose it's no worse than any other place in this weather, but it is watery rather--isn't it? In my mind's eye, I have the sea in a perpetual state of smallpox; and the chalk running downhill like town milk. But I know the comfort of getting to work in a fresh place, and proposing pious projects to one's self, and having the more substantial advantage of going to bed early and getting up ditto, and walking about alone. I should like to deprive you of the last-named happiness, and to take a good long stroll, terminating in a public-house, and whatever they chanced to have in it. But fine days are over, I think. The horrible misery of London in this weather, with not even a fire to make it cheerful, is hideous.