“Mors communis omnibus!” whispered B___d, and——
I had written thus far, when spit—spit—splutter—plop!—my end of candle slipped into the blacking bottle in which it was “sustained,” and I was left to admire—the stars of night, and to observe that “Charles's wain was over the chimney;” so I threw down my pen—and, as the house was a-bed—and I am naturally of a “retiring” disposition, I sought my pallet—dreaming of literary fame!—although, in the matter of what might be in store for me, I was completely in the dark!
AN INTERCEPTED LETTER FROM DICK SLAMMER TO HIS FRIEND SAM FLYKE.
eppin-toosday
my dear sam
i've rote this ere for to let you no i'm in jolly good health and harty as a brick—and hope my tulip as your as vell——read this to sal who can't do the same herself seeing as her edication aintt bin in that line——give her my love and tell her to take care o' the kids.——i've got a silk vipe for sal, tell her; and suffing for 'em all, for i've made a xlent spec o' the woy'ge and bagg'd some tin too i can tell you; and vont ve have a blow out ven i cums amung you——napps——that's the ass——is particklar vell and as dun his dooty like a riq'lar flint——
i rode too races ar' needn't say as i vun em for napps is a houtanhouter an no mistake!
lork! didn't i make the natifs stare! and a gintlum as vos by, vanted to oan 'im an oferd any blunt for im but walker! says i there aint sick a ass as this 'ere hanimal in the hole country——besides he's like as vun o' me oan famly, for i've brot im up in a manner from the time he vos a babby!——he's up to a move or too and knows my voice jist for all the world like a Chrissen.