UNWARRANTABLE INTERFERENCE.

Marlborough Express, Volume III, Issue 138, 3 October 1868, Page 4

UNWARRANTABLE INTERFERENCE.

To the Editor of the Marlborough Express. >EAR Sir, —“ The spirit within me is aroused !” pray you let me give vent in a few lines to the oiling, bubbling passion that consumes me upon eading the grammatical effusion signed “A Son. ” Th&OssianicJburst at’the commencement caused ie to wink; the word “ youthful ” to blush ; ut when the writer confessed he was a son, I wore ! Yes, Sir, I swore to think any person ould tell a fib so readily, and with so little rase for doing it. Howmuch sincere sympathy “a Son” has with lie sorrows of his neighbours it is impossible to all, but evidently he has none with his own esh and blood, or he would not have dreamt of Ball or written that letter, while the event is et so recent which caused a public sorrow. I confess Sir, my only object in these lines is o cause this prophecying old “ beldame ” to feel ome degree of shame. Talk of meanness indeed ! -fancy talking thus :—“But with lie- tide of health and youth (in lowest abaseleut I confess to the latter) in my veins. * * “Dance lighter,” indeed ! Well he may thank kid he has not me for a husband, or the “tide” rould course swifter, and his corpus dance high! I shall leave the.rest of this precious epistle to ome other of your correspondents to deal with, aving good reason to believe that ray object dU be gained by what I have already written, hould, however, no one else take up the “lower dugs of the social ladder” question, I will try ly hand next week.—Yours, &c., Another Father. Blenheim, October Ist, 1868.

To the Editor of the Marlborough Express. Dear Sir, —Since you have published those delightful “ Essays by a Lady,” I feel encouraged to throw off the bashfulness and reserve, peculiar to my age and sex, and to send you a few lines—in strict confidence of course, because it is unknown to mamma—but as you appear to know such lots of things, I thought perhaps you could tell me if there is any truth in what I have gathered from the conversation of my brother with papa—namely, that in future no gentleman will be admitted to any of the fashionable Balls in Blenheim unless they can tell who were their grandfathers. Of course I don’t know what papa meant yesterday morning at the breakfast table, as 1 only caught two or three words like this : “ Umph, wise child, knows fatherbut poor mama blushed so and left the room, she was so angry, and my brother laughed so loud. I think there must have been something wrong, or mama would not have been angry. Yours in haste, A Daughter. Blenheim, September 30th, 1868. P.S. —[On the fly-leaf,] please to cut my name off the bottom of the page ; I should be so dreadfully frightened if even your men knew my name.