Which Concerns Itself Chiefly with a Letter

"Are these all?" he inquired, waving his hand towards the letters.

"Them, sir, is--hall!" answered the Gentleman-in-Powder.

"Then ask Mr. Peterby to come to me," said Barnabas, his frown
growing blacker.

"Cer-tainly, sir!" Here the Gentleman-in-Powder posed his legs, bowed,
and took them out of the room. Then Barnabas drew a letter from his
pocket and began to read as follows: The Gables,
Hawkhurst.

MY DEAR BARNABAS,--As Cleone's letter looks very
long (she sits opposite me at this precise moment writing
to you, and blushing very prettily over something her
pen has just scribbled--I can't quite see what, the table
is too wide), mine shall be short, that is, as short as
possible. Of course we are all disappointed not to have seen
you here since the race--that terrible race (poor, dear
Captain Slingsby,--how dreadful it was!) but of course,
it is quite right you should stay near the Viscount during
his illness. I rejoice to hear he is so much better. I am
having my town house, the one in Berkeley Square, put in
order, for Cleone has had quite enough of the country,
I think, so have I. Though indeed she seems perfectly
content (I mean Cleone) and is very fond of listening to the
brook. O Youth! O Romance! Well, I used to listen
to brooks once upon a time--before I took to a wig.
As for yourself now, Barnabas, the Marquis writes to
tell me that your cravats are 'all the thing,' and your
waistcoats 'all the go,' and that your new coat with the
opened cuff finds very many admirers. This is very well,
but since Society has taken you up and made a lion of you,
it will necessarily expect you to roar occasionally, just
to maintain your position. And there are many ways of
roaring, Barnabas. Brummell (whom I ever despised)
roared like an insolent cat--he was always very precise
and cat-like, and dreadfully insolent, but insolence palls,
after a while--even in Society. Indeed I might give you
many hints on Roaring, Barnabas, but--considering the
length of Cleone's letter, I will spare you more, nor even
give you any advice though I yearn to--only this: Be
yourself, Barnabas, in Society or out, so shall I always
subscribe myself: Your affectionate friend, FANNY CAMBERHURST.