Sunday, October 9
Dear Mrs. Namori-Swift,
Through recent correspondence with my major-domo, Mr. Arnold, I learned of your recent marriage to Mr. Akidami Swift. I apologize for the fact that I was unable to attend the festivities. I would most certainly have joined in celebration had I not been otherwise engaged in an adventure of a most remarkable nature with my squire, Mr. Malus. We recently had a narrow escape from the town of Bump after I engaged in sword-play with a 12-foot tall troll, outwitted and out ran 30 heavily-armed men, and tamed two raging mutant elephants.
As I write this correspondence I sit high above the clouds in an airship of truly breathtaking splendour. This is without doubt the epitome of luxury and modernity. Why just last night I stood upon the bow of this magnificent vessel with my arms spread and imagined I was flying.
Along with this brief congratulatory note, I am sending a small parcel with a most extraordinary gadget as a gift to honour your union. It may in fact be the most unique wedding gift ever exchanged. It is a clockwork bread toaster that toasts two slices of bread simultaneously. Simply add coals from your furnace to the three chambers, wind the key then press down on the lever. When your toast is ready it pops up automatically. I know what you are thinking… how can such a device be possible? But it does more, Mrs. Namori-Swift, it also has a little music box that regales your tired morning ears with Reveille. These are truly remarkable times in which we live. Now we just need to invent some means of slicing a consistent width of bread.
Monday, October 10th
Dear Mr. Mornington,
Through recent correspondence with my major-domo, Mr. Arnold, I learned of the current zombie plague raging across the city. Well done sir.
Having said that, it is not my purpose to congratulate or tease (well, perhaps to tease just a little) but to update you on my progress. After vanquishing a giant-troll with a sword thrust through the heart, battling my way through one hundred of Bump’s most nefarious criminal element, and capturing two re-animated wooly mammoths, I am currently enjoying some well-earned respite aboard the most luxurious airliner ever to sail the skies. I have learned a lot about hydrogen in chatting with the crew and engineers of the Henri Giffard XVI, these past few days. With what more safe and efficient substance could one hope to fill one’s gas bladders?
Captain Smith, has guaranteed me a place on the return voyage. I look forward to strolling the streets of New Babbage once again, perhaps as early as November 4th, a full week ahead of schedule.
Sincerely and in great anticipation of our next glass of Chivas,
Tuesday, October 11th
Dear Lady MacBain,
My major-domo, Mr. Arnold, forwarded me the letter you left on my desk. He further mentioned that you had the opportunity to enjoy the apple pie I left on the counter in the kitchen. I am delighted you found it to your tastes. However, if you really want a treat, you should stop by some afternoon after my return to New Babbage and sample my pumpkin spice pie. I’ve always felt that the secret to a good pumpkin spice pie is all in the blend of spices one chooses. My exquisite blend happens to be a family secret. Let me just say: it aids in digestion, reduces nervous anxiety, and generally improves one’s humourous disposition. What’s a little tingling in the fingertips when one is enjoying such a gastronomic delight, I always say.
As to your concerns regarding my safety, have no fear. After having saved an orphan girl from the clutches of a family of hideous giant trolls, rounding up a heard of stampeding elephants (twisted by the very hand of sorcery into the most vile and grotesque creatures you can imagine), and punishing the darker elements of Bumpian society, I am feeling pretty well near invincible. Dare I say it… I feel almost as if I were the King of the World.
Sir Emerson Lighthouse
Wednesday, October 12th
Dear Mr. Arnold,
I must be brief as the purser aboard this wonderful ship upon which Squire Malus and I now soar is delaying the air-post in order that I might sneak in this one last correspondence.
As you know, Mr. Arnold, honesty has always been the very foundation upon which I build the moral structure in which I reside. I must confess to you now that the night I departed New Babbage, I entered into a wager with Victor Mornington; and I have been troubled, Mr. Arnold, in one tiny aspect of that wager. In the unlikely event that I had lost, I would have been required to add one small task to your major-domo duties. Perhaps it was hubris, yet so confident was I in victory that I felt safe in offering your scullery services to Mr. Mornington as part of our terms of wager. No need to run to a dictionary, Mr. Arnold, it would have meant a year of scrubbing dishes and mopping the floors of the Muirsheen Durkin. But not to worry, victory is all but assured. You may be breathing a sigh of relief just about now… but I never had any doubts.
Yours most appreciatively,
Sir Emerson Lighthouse
PS: Would you be so good as to deliver the enclosed correspondences for me. Thanks, EL
PPS: As you know I am a little disorganized when it comes to paperwork. I forgot to document before I left that in the extremely unlikely event that misfortune should find me, thus preventing my return, I name you, Mr. Arnold, my sole heir and beneficiary. EL
PPPS: Mr. Murdoch and Mr. Moody, the ship’s first and sixth officer of this fantastic airship respectively, have offered to show me both the steam-engine room and the hydrogen bladders. I am very excited. They’ve told me I can’t bring the hookah… but I may sneak in a little leaf rolled in newsprint. What could it harm? EL