That’s a good idea? There’s a person called Lenz who actually does
it—beware his den; I lost eighteenpennies on him, and found the bleeding
corpses of pieces of music divorced from their keys, despoiled of their
graces, and even changed in time; I do not wish to regard music (nor to
be regarded) through that bony Lenz. You say you are ‘a spumfed idiot’;
but how about Lenz? And how about me, sir, me?
I yesterday sent Lloyd by parcel post, at great expense, an empty
matchbox and empty cigarette-paper book, a bell from a cat’s collar, an
iron kitchen spoon, and a piece of coal more than half the superficies of
this sheet of paper. They are now (appropriately enough) speeding
towards the Silly Isles; I hope he will find them useful. By that, and
my telegram with prepaid answer to yourself, you may judge of my
spiritual state. The finances have much brightened; and if _Kidnapped_
keeps on as it has begun, I may be solvent.—Yours,
THRENODIÆ AVCTOR
(The authour of ane Threnodie).
Op. 2: Scherzo (in G Major) expressive of the Sense of favours to come.