Can you do for me by Saturday evening--I know the time is short, but I
think the subject will suit you, and I am greatly pressed--a party of
rioters (with Hugh and Simon Tappertit conspicuous among them) in old
John Willet's bar, turning the liquor taps to their own advantage,
smashing bottles, cutting down the grove of lemons, sitting astride on
casks, drinking out of the best punch-bowls, eating the great cheese,
smoking sacred pipes, etc. etc.; John Willet, fallen backward in his
chair, regarding them with a stupid horror, and quite alone among them,
with none of The Maypole customers at his back.
It's in your way, and you'll do it a hundred times better than I can
suggest it to you, I know.
Faithfully always.
[Sidenote: Mr. George Cattermole.]