“DEAR SIR,—­The nature of the communication which, I am sure from kind feelings, you made to me the other day, had such an effect upon a temper naturally choleric, that I fear I have been guilty of some violence toward you.  I am, unfortunately, subject to paroxysms of this sort, and while under their influence feel utterly unconscious of what I do or say.  In your case, will you be good enough to let me know—­whether I treated you kindly or otherwise; for the fact is, the paroxysm I speak of assumes an affectionate character as well as a violent one.  Of what I did or said on the occasion in question I have no earthly recollection.  In the meantime, I have the satisfaction to assure you that Miss Gourlay has not eloped, but is residing with a friend, in the metropolis.  I have seen the gentleman to whom you alluded, and am satisfied that their journey to town was purely accidental.  He knows not even where she is; but I do, and am quite easy on the subject.  Have the kindness to mention this to all your friends, and to contradict the report of her elopement wherever and whenever you hear it.

“Truly yours,

“Thomas Gourlay.

“Periwinkle Crackenfudge, Esq.

“P.  S.—­In the meantime, will you oblige me by sending up to my address in town a list of your claims for a seat on the magisterial bench.  Let it be as clear and well worded as you can make it, and as authentic.  You may color a little, I suppose, but let the groundwork be truth—­if you can; if not truth—­then that which comes as near it as possible.  Truth, you know, is always better than a lie, unless where a lie happens to be better than truth.

“T.  G.”

To this characteristic epistle our bedrubbed friend sent the following reply: 

“My dear Sir Thomas,—­A’ would give more than all mention to be gifted with your want of memory respecting what occurred the other day.  Never man had such a memory of that dreadful transaction as a’ have; from head to heel a’m all memory; from heel to head a’m all memory—­up and down —­round—­about—­across—­here and there, and everywhere—­a’m all memory; but in one particular place, Sir Thomas—­ah! there’s where a’ suffer—­however, it doesn’t make no matter; a’ only say that you taught me the luxury of an easy chair and a. soft cushion ever since, Sir Thomas.

“Your letter, Sir Thomas, has given me great comfort, and has made me rejoice, although it is with groans a’ do it, at the whole transaction.  If you succeed in getting me the magistracy, Sir Thomas, it will be the most blessed and delightful basting that ever a lucky man got.  If a’ succeed in being turned into a bony fidy live magistrate, to be called ‘your worship,’ and am to have the right of fining and flogging and committing the people, as a’ wish and hope to do, then all say that the hand of Providence was in it, as well as your foot, Sir Thomas.  Now, that you have explained the circumstance, a’ feel very much honored by