No—no—no! Murder, murder! Madness and misconception! Any one of the subjects—not the whole. Oh, blessed star of early morning, what do you think I am made of, that I should, on the part of any man, prefer such a pig-headed, calf-eyed, donkey-eared, imp-hoofed request!
Says my friend to me, "Will you ask your friend, Mr. Stanfield, what the damage of a little picture of that size would be, that I may treat myself with the same, if I can afford it?" Says I, "I will." Says he, "Will you suggest that I should like it to be one of those subjects?" Says I, "I will."
I am beating my head against the door with grief and frenzy, and I shall continue to do so, until I receive your answer.
Ever heartily yours,
The Misconceived One.
Mr. Frank Stone.
Devonshire Terrace, Monday, June 4th, 1849.
My dear Stone,
Leech and Sparkler having promised their ladies to take them to Ascot, and having failed in their truths, propoge to take them to Greenwich instead, next Wednesday. Will that alteration in the usual arrangements be agreeable to Gaffin, S.? If so, the place of meeting is the Sparkler's Bower, and the hour, one exactly.
Ever yours.
Mrs. Charles Dickens.