Mr. Charley Bates.
Middle of Next Week. Nix Alley, No. 0.
Dear Pal,—Excuse this address, but sometimes it's well not to go into too many perticklers. I have yours giving me an account of your new lay. As far as I can make out, there's a lot of tradesmen in London who, at considerable give out of swag, get swell fellers to write articles for them. Then you plunge in, romp around, fill your pockets with the pick of the lot, and go and sell it on your own hook. That's good. But what I like best is the putting on of the bands and surplice, the taking of the good book in the right hand, the uprising of the eyeballs, and the general trotting out of the loftiest principles, the purest motives, and the general welfare of our brother men. You are a regular wonner, old pal, and should do; leastways, you have the good wishes of your old friend,
Charley.
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