I vainly point out that the mixture has
played its part, the tonic has played ITS part; and that, in the
nature of things, the transaction is ended. The bill is
unappeasable. I forget the details; a certain number of pieces of
yellow and white dross are spoken of. Ah, I see it is fifteen and
some odd shillings and coppers. Let us say twenty.
My dear Honeyman, you who, as I hear, are about to follow the
flutes of Aphrodite into a temple where Hymen gilds the horns of
the victims {17}--you, I am sure, will hurry to my rescue. You may
not have the specie actually in your coffers; but with your
prospects, surely you can sign something, or make over something,
or back something, say a post obit or post vincula, or employ some
other instrument? Excuse my inexperience; or, I should say, excuse
my congenital inability to profit by experience, now considerable,
of DIFFICULTIES--and of friendship. Let not the sun of May-day go
down on Harold Skimpole in Coavins's!--Yours ever,
H. S.
P.S.--A youthful myrmidon of Coavins's will wait for a reply.
Shall we say, while we are about it, Twenty-five?
From the Rev. Charles Honeyman to Harold Skimpole, Esq.
Cursitor Street, May 1.
My Dear Skimpole,--How would I have joyed, had Providence placed it
within my power to relieve your distress! But it cannot be. Like
the Carthaginian Queen of whom we read in happier days at dear old
Borhambury, I may say that I am haud ignarus mali.
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