Having forgotten none of your professional manner as art arbiter, may I say that I can picture to myself easily the sad earnestness with which you now point the thick thumb of your editorial refinement in deprecation of my choicer "rowdyism"? And knowing your analytical conscientiousness, I can even understand the humble comfort you take in Oscar's meek superiority; but, for the life of me, I cannot follow your literary intention when you say that my care of "''Arry,' dead and neglected by the parish," goes far to prove that my "sense of smell is not so delicate nor so perfectly trained as" my "sense of sight."
Do you mean that my discovery of the body is the result of a cold in the head? and that, with a finer scent, I should have missed it altogether? or were you only unconsciously remembering and dreamily dipping your pen into the ink of my former description of "'Arry's" chronic catarrh? In any case, I am charmed with what I have just read, and only regret that the ridiculous "Romeike" has not hitherto sent me your agreeable literature.—Also I am, dear Sir, your obedient servant,
The End of the Piece
Sir—I beg to draw your attention to the contents of your letter to the Scots Observer, dated April 12th, in which you state that you "regret the ridiculous Romeike has not hitherto sent me your agreeable literature."
This statement, had it been true, was spiteful and injurious, but being untrue (entirely) it becomes malicious, and I must ask you at once to apologise.
And at the same time to draw your attention to the fact that we have supplied you with 807 cuttings.
We have written to the Scots Observer for an ample apology, or the matter will be placed in our solicitor's hands, and we demand the same of you.
Yours obediently,
ROMEIKE & CURTICE.