Some time ago, you sent me a note from a friend of yours, a barrister, I
think, begging me to forward to him any letters I might receive from a
deranged nephew of his, at Newcastle. In the midst of a most bewildering
correspondence with unknown people, on every possible and impossible
subject, I have forgotten this gentleman's name, though I have a kind of
hazy remembrance that he lived near Russell Square. As the Post Office
would be rather puzzled, perhaps, to identify him by such an address,
may I ask the favour of you to hand him the enclosed, and to say that it
is the second I have received since I returned from America? The last, I
think, was a defiance to mortal combat. With best remembrances to your
sister, in which Mrs. Dickens joins, believe me, my dear Harness,
Always faithfully yours.
[Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.]