“To the Hon. Mr. ——­, M.P.

“Hon. Sir, Son in Jesu Christ, I beg most respectfully you, Hon. Sir, to accept the very deep gratitude for the ticket which you, Hon. Sir, with noble kindness, favoured me by post to-day.  May the Blessing of God Almighty come upon you, Hon. Sir, and may He preserve you, Hon. Sir, for ever and ever, Amen!  With all due respect, I have the honour to be, Hon. Sir, your most

“humble and obedient servant,

“——.”

Surely the British Constituent might take a lesson from this extremely polite letter-writer when his long-suffering Member has squeezed him into the Strangers’ Gallery.

Some letters, again, are odd from their excess of candour.  A gentleman, unknown to me, soliciting pecuniary assistance, informed me that, having “sought relief from trouble in dissipation,” he “committed an act which sent him into Penal Servitude,” and shortly after his release, “wrote a book containing many suggestions for the reform of prison discipline,” A lady, widely known for the benevolent use which she makes of great wealth, received a letter from an absolute stranger, setting forth that he had been so unfortunate as to overdraw his account at his bankers, and adding, “As I know that it will only cost you a scratch of the pen to set this right, I make no apology for asking you to do so.”

Among “odd men” might certainly be reckoned the late Archdeacon Denison, and he displayed his oddness very characteristically when, having quarrelled with the Committee of Council on Education, he refused to have his parish schools inspected, and thus intimated his resolve to the inspector:—­

“My dear Bellairs,—­I love you very much; but if you ever come here again to inspect, I lock the door of the school, and tell the boys to put you in the pond.”

I am not sure whether the great Duke of Wellington can properly be described as an “odd man,” but beyond question he wrote odd letters.  I have already quoted from his reply to Mrs. Norton when she asked leave to dedicate a song to him:  “I have made it a rule to have nothing dedicated to me, and have kept it in every instance, though I have been Chancellor of the University of Oxford, and in other situations much exposed to authors.”  The Duke replied to every letter that he received, but his replies were not always acceptable to their recipients.  When a philanthropist begged him to present some petitions to the House of Lords on behalf of the wretched chimney sweeps, the Duke wrote back:  “Mr. Stevens has thought fit to leave some petitions at Apsley House.  They will be found with the porter.”  The Duke’s correspondence with “Miss J.,” which was published by Mr. Fisher Unwin some ten years ago, and is much less known than it deserves to be, contains some gems of composition.  Miss J. consulted the Duke about her duty when a fellow-passenger in the stage-coach swore, and he wrote:  “I don’t consider with you that it is necessary to enter into