“Thou’rt a comical chap--so am I; but thou possessest brains competent to write what I mean;--I don’t--therefore, Brother Comic, wilt thou oblige me (if ’twas in my power I would you)--I’ll tell you just what I want, and no more. Of late, Lord *** has been endeavouring to raise a body of yeomanry in this county. Now there’s a man at Bedfont--a compounder of nauseous drugs--and against whom I owe a grudge, who wishes to enter, but who’s no more fit for a fighter than I for a punster. Now if you will just give him a palpable hit or two in verse, and transmit them to me by post, directed to A. B., Post Office, Bedfont, your kindness shall ever be remembered with feelings of the deepest sincerity and gratitude. His name is ‘JAMES BOOKER, CHEMIST,’ Bedfont _of course_. If you disapprove of the above, I trust you will not abuse the confidence placed in you, by ‘SPLITTING.’ You’ll say, how can I?--by showing this letter to him. He knows the handwriting full well--but you’ll not do so, I hope. Perhaps, if you feel a disposition to oblige me, you will do so at your first convenience, ere the matter will be getting stale. “Yours truly, “A. B. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to let me have an answer from you, even if you will NOT condescend to accede to my wish. “Perhaps you’ve not sufficient particulars. He’s a little fellow, flushed face, long nose, precious ugly, housekeeper as ugly, lives between the two Peacock Inns, is a single man, very anxious to get possession of Miss Boltbee, a ward in Chancery with something like £9000 (WISH he may get it), is famous for his Gout Medicine, sells jalap (should like to make him swallow an ounce), always knows other people’s business better than his own, used to go to church, now goes to chapel, and in the whole, is a great rascal. “Bedfont is thirteen miles from London.” [Illustration: PRESERVED IN SPIRITS.] [4] To borrow an example from fiction, there is that slave of circumstances, Oliver Twist. There are few authors whom one would care to see running two heats with the same horse. It is intended therefore as a compliment, that I wish Boz would re-write the history in question from page 122, supposing his hero NOT to have met with the Artful Dodger on his road to seek his fortune. [5] In justice to the Society, it ought to be recorded, that two of its members have since distinguished themselves in print: the authoress of “London in the Olden Time,” and the author of a “History of Moral Science.”