---- cannot as yet know of
this piece of preferment having fallen in, or rather of
its certainty of falling (for poor dear Dr. Trefoil is
past hope). Should Lord ---- first hear it from you, that
might probably be thought to give you a fair claim to
express your opinion.

Of course our grand object is that we should all be of
one opinion in church matters. This is most desirable at
Barchester; it is this that makes our good bishop so
anxious about it. You may probably think it expedient to
point this out to Lord ---- if it shall be in your power
to oblige me by mentioning the subject to his lordship.

Believe me,
My dear Sir Nicholas,
Your most faithful servant,

OBADIAH SLOPE

His letter to Mr. Towers was written in quite a different strain.
Mr. Slope conceived that he completely understood the difference in
character and position of the two men whom he addressed. He knew
that for such a man as Sir Nicholas Fitzwhiggin a little flummery was
necessary, and that it might be of the easy, everyday description.
Accordingly his letter to Sir Nicholas was written, _currente calamo_,
with very little trouble. But to such a man as Mr. Towers it was not
so easy to write a letter that should be effective and yet not
offensive, that should carry its point without undue interference.
It was not difficult to flatter Dr. Proudie or Sir Nicholas
Fitzwhiggin, but very difficult to flatter Mr. Towers without letting
the flattery declare itself. This, however, had to be done.
Moreover, this letter must, in appearance at least, be written
without effort, and be fluent, unconstrained, and demonstrative of no
doubt or fear on the part of the writer. Therefore the epistle to
Mr. Towers was studied, and re-copied, and elaborated at the cost of
so many minutes that Mr. Slope had hardly time to dress himself and
reach Dr. Stanhope's that evening.

When dispatched, it ran as follows:--

(Private.) Barchester. Sept. 185--

(He purposely omitted any allusion to the "palace," thinking that Mr.
Towers might not like it. A great man, he remembered, had been once
much condemned for dating a letter from Windsor Castle.)

MY DEAR SIR,

We were all a good deal shocked here this morning by
hearing that poor old Dean Trefoil had been stricken with
apoplexy. The fit took him about 9 A.M. I am writing now
to save the post, and he is still alive, but past all hope