I have given Squeers one cut on the neck and two on the head, at which
he appeared much surprised and began to cry, which, being a cowardly
thing, is just what I should have expected from him--wouldn't you?
I have carefully done what you told me in your letter about the lamb and
the two "sheeps" for the little boys. They have also had some good ale
and porter, and some wine. I am sorry you didn't say _what_ wine you
would like them to have. I gave them some sherry, which they liked very
much, except one boy, who was a little sick and choked a good deal. He
was rather greedy, and that's the truth, and I believe it went the wrong
way, which I say served him right, and I hope you will say so too.
Nicholas had his roast lamb, as you said he was to, but he could not
eat it all, and says if you do not mind his doing so he should like to
have the rest hashed to-morrow with some greens, which he is very fond
of, and so am I. He said he did not like to have his porter hot, for he
thought it spoilt the flavour, so I let him have it cold. You should
have seen him drink it. I thought he never would have left off. I also
gave him three pounds of money, all in sixpences, to make it seem more,
and he said directly that he should give more than half to his mamma and
sister, and divide the rest with poor Smike. And I say he is a good
fellow for saying so; and if anybody says he isn't I am ready to fight
him whenever they like--there!
Fanny Squeers shall be attended to, depend upon it. Your drawing of her
is very like, except that I don't think the hair is quite curly enough.
The nose is particularly like hers, and so are the legs. She is a nasty
disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when she sees
it; and what I say is that I hope it may. You will say the same I
know--at least I think you will.
I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast
when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think
about them, and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just eight
o'clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o'clock, except when
it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper. So I will not say
anything more besides this--and that is my love to you and Neptune; and
if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink
yours--come.
I am,
Respected Sir,
Your affectionate Friend.
P.S.--I don't write my name very plain, but you know what it is you
know, so never mind.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]