  The shortest letters on record are two exchanged between a couple of members of the Society of Friends. One of them, wishing to learn if a correspondent in a distant town had any news to communicate, posted to him a quarto sheet of paper, on which nothing but a note of interrogation was written, thus: ? (meaning, “what news?”) He received in reply, by next post, a blank sheet of paper, indicating that there was nothing to relate. Some of the best of brief letters have been penned by members of the dramatic profession. The following are good specimens. A tradesman made application to Mordaunt, the player, for payment of an account, as follows:— “Sir,—Your bill having been standing a very long time, I beg to have it settled forthwith. Yours, etc., Said the comedian in reply:— “Sir,—When your bill is tired of standing, it is welcome to sit down. Yours, etc., “Dear Sam,—I am in prison for debt; come and assist your loving mother, E. Foote.” His answer was almost as brief, certainly as pathetic:— “Dear Mother,—So am I, which prevents his duty being paid to his loving mother by her affectionate son. Sam Foote.” “P.S.—I have sent my attorney to assist you; in the meantime let us hope for better days.” Quin had a misunderstanding with Rich, the manager of Covent Garden Theatre, which resulted in the former leaving in an unceremonious manner. He soon regretted the step that he had taken, and wrote to his old friend and manager:— “I am at Bath. Quin.” Rich did not deem such a letter a sufficient apology for his unwarrantable conduct, and thus replied to it:— “Stay there and be hanged. Rich.” The Rev. Sydney Smith, in answer to a friend who had forwarded a letter asking him to sit for his portrait, to be executed by Landseer, the “Is thy servant a dog that he should do this thing?” Genial Charles Lamb wrote an amusing letter to Haydon, the artist, in answer to an invitation to pay him a visit. The odd address of Haydon was the cause of the note, which ran as follows:— “My dear Haydon,—I will come, with pleasure, to 22, Lisson Grove, North, at Rossi’s, half-way up, right hand side, if I can find it. Yours, “20, Russell Court, A lady named Morris, of Plymouth, is recorded to have been the first of her sex to venture under water in a diving bell. She had wit as well as courage, and wrote to her father a rhyming epistle, saying:— “From a belle, my dear father, you’ve oft had a line, Frank Smedley, the author of “Frank Fairleigh,” addressed to a lady friend the following letter in verse:— “Thou better half of Virtue, gentle friend, A famous sporting character, named Captain O’Byrne, laid a wager about Admiral Payne, and wrote to him as follows:— “Dear Payne,—Pray, were you bread to the sea?” The witty Admiral made reply:— “Dear O’Byrne,—No; but the sea was bread to me.” It is said that King Charles the Second received the following letter:— “King Charles,—One of your subjects the other night robbed me of £40, for which I robbed another of the same sum, who has inhumanly sent me to Newgate, and he vows I shall be hanged; therefore, for your own sake, save my life, or you will lose one of the best seamen in your navy. Jack Skifton.” His Majesty promptly answered the letter:— “Jack Skifton,—For this time I’ll save thee from the gallows, but if hereafter thou art guilty of the like, I’ll have thee hanged, though the best seaman in my navy. Charles Rex.” Here is a copy of a quaint letter sent to another king. It was written by Dr. Schmidt, sacristan of the Cathedral at Berlin, to Frederick of Prussia: Schmidt, In reply to the foregoing diverting communication the king wrote:— “I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 1st, that they who want to sing songs may buy books. I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 2ndly, that those who want to be kept warm may buy wood. I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 3rdly, that I shall not trust any longer to the balustrade next to the river; and I acquaint Mr. Sacrist Schmidt, 4thly, that I will not have any more correspondence with him. Frederick.” The following phonographic curiosity is extracted from the Times. It was written by an unsophisticated person to his physician, in Lancashire:— “Cer yole oblige me uf yole kum and ce me i hev a bad kowld an am hill in mi bow hills an hev lorst mi happetite. Roger Trooman.” One Highlander wrote to another the following smart letter:— “My dear Glengarry,—As soon as you can prove yourself to be my chief, I shall be ready to acknowledge you. In the meantime I am yours, “Walking in the city one day,” says the Rev. Dr. Charles Rogers, “Mr. Heriot met an old acquaintance from Scotland.” “Hallo! Heriot,” said his friend, “what are you doing in London?” “I am secretary to the Duke of Wellington,” answered Heriot. “You are nothing of the sort,” said the Scotsman; “and I fear you’re doing little good, since you would impose upon me in this fashion.” Returning to Scotland, it occurred to Heriot’s acquaintance that he would write to the Duke, warning him that one Heriot “had been passing himself off as his secretary.” He received the following reply: “Sir,—I am directed by the Duke of Wellington to acknowledge the receipt of your letter; and I am, Your obedient servant, A captain being ordered with his regiment to the Cape, made application to the Duke of Wellington for permission to try and arrange for a transfer to another corps. The “Iron Duke” Mr. George Seton, who has devoted much attention to this theme, tells an American story in which a brief letter holds a prominent place. He states that “in 1693, the Rev. Stephen Mix made a journey to Northampton in search of a wife. He arrived at the Rev. Solomon Stoddard’s, and informed him of the object of his visit. Mr. Stoddard introduced him to his six daughters, and then retired. Addressing Mary, the eldest, Mr. Mix said that he had lately settled at Wethersfield, was desirous of obtaining a wife, and concluded by offering his heart and hand. The blushing damsel replied that so important a proposal required time for consideration; and accordingly Mr. Mix left the room in order to smoke a pipe with her father, while she took the case to ‘avizandum.’ On her answer being sent for, she requested further time for consideration; and it was agreed that she should send her answer by letter to Wethersfield. In the course of a few weeks, Mr. Mix received a reply, which was soon followed by the wedding:— “Northampton, Rev. Stephen Mix,—Yes.—Mary Stoddard.” “Dear Doctor,—How do you account for this darkness?” He simply said:— “Dear Madam,—I am as much in the dark as you are.” THE END |
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