Sometimes my letters contain not mere thorns, but bludgeons. How are
two choice slips from that noble Irish oak, which has more than once
supplied alpeens for this meek and unoffending skull:--


"THEATRE ROYAL, DONNYBROOK.

"SIR,--I have just finished reading the first portion of your Tale,
Lovel the Widower, and am much surprised at the unwarrantable strictures
you pass therein on the corps de ballet.

"I have been for more than ten years connected with the theatrical
profession, and I beg to assure you that the majority of the corps de
ballet are virtuous, well-conducted girls, and, consequently, that snug
cottages are not taken for them in the Regent's Park.

"I also have to inform you that theatrical managers are in the habit of
speaking good English, possibly better English than authors.

"You either know nothing of the subject in question, or you assert a
wilful falsehood.

"I am happy to say that the characters of the corps de ballet, as
also those of actors and actresses, are superior to the snarlings
of dyspeptic libellers, or the spiteful attacks and brutum fulmen of
ephemeral authors.

"I am, sir, your obedient servant,

"A. B. C."