Friend Charles

I’m glad, Dear C., to find you’re living still; And thank you for the usual quinine pill: Be pleas’d t’accept—more than the sum you crave— Two extra postage-stamps, with which pray have One glass of Bass’ —— to cheer thy trusty heart: May ten years more (if spared to thee) impart A better spirit to thy chast’ning health: Altho’, like me—thou may’st lack worldly wealth, Thou hast a soul symbolical of love,— Yet never ventur’d in the Hymeneal grove!

Whate’er inquiries might be made for me Among thine own, and my fraternity, Tell them I’m blithe (tho’ scanty is my purse), And that I care not one brave “cobbler’s curse” For all the riches other men enjoy; I do my best, my energies employ To pay the sixpence where there’s any due,— And therefore settle my account with you.