Faithfully yours,
Frederick Petherton.
I felt this was a good start, and so put out more bait:—
Dear Petherton (I wrote),—Sorry you couldn't accept my letter in the spirit, etc.
I've had such a priceless idea since I wrote to you last, and it is this. I propose that we start a Literary Society in Surbury. I'm certain the Vicar would join in. Mr. Charteris, of the Manor, too would, I feel confident, welcome the idea. Dr. Stevenson, the only one to whom I have broached the subject, got keen at once, and the Gore-Langleys and others could no doubt be counted on—say a dozen altogether, including you and myself. I append a short list of suggested contributions, which will give some idea of the range of subjects which might be tossed into the arena of debate:—
- The Binomial Theorem in its relation to the Body Politic (yourself).
- Cows and their sufferings during the milk controversy in the newspapers (Charteris. This might be published in small quarto).
- The attitude of the Manichean Heresiarch towards the use of Logarithms (The Vicar).
- The effect of excessive Philately on the cerebral organisms of the young (Gore-Langley).
- The introduction of the art and practice of Napery among the Dyaks of Borneo (Miss Eva Gore-Langley).
With a few additions I think we should have enough mental food to keep us going through the summer; and I may add that if you were put up for President of the Society I should certainly second the motion.
Yours ever,
Harry Fordyce.
I notice that your writing has gone to pieces rather, old man—through writer's cramp, I fear. You say what looks like "you are perfectly aware that the calcalus is asphalt and not concrete." Of course I do know that much about it.
My letter kept the ball rolling all right, for Petherton replied:—-
Sir,—Have you no sane moments? If you have any such, I should be glad if you would employ the next lucid interval in setting your affairs straight and then repairing to the nearest asylum with a request that they would protect you against yourself by placing you in a padded cell. This done and the key lost, the world, and Surbury in particular, would be a happier place.