'DEAR ELLEN,--Fame says you are on a visit with the renowned Currer
Bell, the "great unknown" of the present day. The celebrated
_Shirley_ has just found its way hither. And as one always reads a
book with more interest when one has a correct insight into the
writer's designs, I write to ask a favour, which I ought not to be
regarded presumptuous in saying that I think I have a species of
claim to ask, on the ground of a sort of "poetical justice." The
interpretation of this enigma is, that the story goes that either I
or my father, I do not exactly know which, are part of "Currer
Bell's" stock-in-trade, under the title of Mr. Hall, in that Mr. Hall
is represented as black, bilious, and of dismal aspect, stooping a
trifle, and indulging a little now and then in the indigenous
dialect. This seems to sit very well on your humble servant--other
traits do better for my good father than myself. However, though I
had no idea that I should be made a means to amuse the public, Currer
Bell is perfectly welcome to what she can make of so unpromising a
subject. But I think _I have a fair claim in return to be let into
the secret of the company I have got into_. Some of them are good
enough to tell, and need no OEdipus to solve the riddle.
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