It is surely unnecessary to call the attention of so astute an
observer, and so austere a critic, as yourself, to the fact that the
title of the leading essay in this little volume (of which, permit me
to say, you are so essential an ornament) is marked as a quotation;
and a quotation, as you will very well remember, from the lips of our
friend, Mrs, Potiphar, herself.
Therefore, Rev. Sir, your judgment, which, you must allow me to say,
is no less impartial than your experience is profound, will suggest to
you that the subject of that essay (of the points of which the
succeeding sketches are but elaborations) is the aspect of what is
currently termed “our best society”--whether with reason or not, is
beside the purpose.
Your pastoral charity, I am convinced, will persuade you to direct the
attention of your parishioners to this fact, and to assure them, that,
when you prepared your timely treatise upon the progress of purple
chasubles among the Feejee islanders, you were not justly amenable to
the charge of omitting all notice of the cultivation of artificial
flowers by the Grim Tartars. The latter are, I believe, a very
estimable people, but they were not the subjects of your
consideration.
To those in your parish, and elsewhere, who have thought fit to
suppose that Mrs. Potiphar is Mrs. Somebody-else,--what can we say?
conscious as we are, that they who have once known that lady could
never confound her with another.
But for those who have actually supposed you, yourself, Reverend Sir,
to be, not somebody else, but nobody, (!) we can only smile
compassionately, and express the hope that a broader experience may
give them greater wisdom.
In taking leave of you, Sir, I know that I express the warmest wish of
a large, a very large parish (might almost say, diocese) that you may
long survive. For your parish is fully, and, as I think, most
correctly persuaded, that while there is a Cream Cheese, there will
always be a Mrs. Potiphar.
With all proper regard,