Direct to the Post Office here.

I shall leave orders to forward your letters wherever I may travel.
LETTER II ALAN FAIRFORD TO DARSIE LATIMER NEGATUR, my dear Darsie--you have logic and law enough to understand the word of denial.

I deny your conclusion.

The premises I admit, namely, that when I mounted on that infernal hack, I might utter what seemed a sigh, although I deemed it lost amid the puffs and groans of the broken-winded brute, matchless in the complication of her complaints by any save she, the poor man's mare, renowned in song, that died A mile aboon Dundee.
[Alluding, as all Scotsmen know, to the humorous old song:-- 'The auld man's mare's dead, The puir man's mare's dead, The auld man's mare's dead, A mile aboon Dundee.'] But credit me, Darsie, the sigh which escaped me, concerned thee more than myself, and regarded neither the superior mettle of your cavalry, nor your greater command of the means of travelling.

I could certainly have cheerfully ridden with you for a few days; and assure yourself I would not have hesitated to tax your better filled purse for our joint expenses.