...................... T'chk.
Excellent little thing, isn't it? All it needs is the rhymes. As
far as it goes it has just exactly the ease and the sweep required.
And if some one will tell me how Owen Seaman and those people get
the rest of the ease and the sweep I'll be glad to put it in.
One further experiment of the same sort I made with the English
Press in another direction and met again with failure. If there is
one paper in the world for which I have respect and--if I may say
it--an affection, it is the London Spectator. I suppose that I am
only one of thousands and thousands of people who feel that way.
Why under the circumstances the Spectator failed to publish my
letter I cannot say. I wanted no money for it: I only wanted the
honour of seeing it inserted beside the letter written from the
Rectory, Hops, Hants, or the Shrubbery, Potts, Shrops,--I mean from
one of those places where the readers of the Spectator live. I
thought too that my letter had just the right touch. However, they
wouldn't take it: something wrong with it somewhere, I suppose.
This is it:
To the Editor,
The Spectator,
London, England.
Dear Sir,
Your correspondence of last week contained such interesting
information in regard to the appearance of the first cowslip
in Kensington Common that I trust that I may, without
fatiguing your readers to the point of saturation, narrate
a somewhat similar and I think, sir, an equally interesting
experience of my own.
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