A delightfully funny letter written thirteen years ago, by Charles F. Browne (Artemus Ward), to a young friend of his -- a little, girl then at the age of eight, and now the wife of a prominent merchant in a neighbouring city, is published by the Bendigo Independent. The letter has never before appeared in print, and the original is in possession of a gentleman of Sandhurst. Our contemporary vouches for its genuineness: It will at once strike the reader as being eminently characteristic -- "true to life":

"SALEM, Mass, 18th June, 1864.-- My Dear Amelia, I cannot tell you how I miss you. "It seems as though I had lost all my relatives, including my grandmother and the cooking stove. "Why didn't I put you in a bottle and bring you down here with me? But I'm always forgetting something. The other day I went off and forgot my Aunt Sarah, and she's a good deal bigger than you are. Mr. Ramsey is also very forgetful man. He frequently goes off and forgets his washerwoman. Mr. Ramsey is a very fine-looking man. He reminds me of Mr. Green, the Maldon murderer. When Mr. Ramsey goes "to the penitentiary, which will be very soon, we must send him dough-nuts, magazines, and other literary documents. Mr. Ramsey can read print very well.

"I like you very much. I should like you very well if you were twelve years older. I am very singular about some things.

"You spoke to me about a boy who is my rival. I should feel very sorry to kill that boy, but he may drive me to it. I am in hopes that he will take himself into a premature tomb; that he may choke himself with a large slice of pudding, but if he does neither I shall feel forced to lead him with chains and read all my lectures to him. That will finish him. His body may remain, but the rest of him will have perished miserably long ere I got through.

"You must be a good little girl, and always mind your mother. Never let your excellent mother feel sorry that she is acquainted with you. If it hadn't been for her you might have got drowned in a soup plate long ago. And if you hadn't ever had any mother you might now be in Turkey with the other Turkeys. In fact, my dear Amelia, so conduct yourself that even on dark and rainy days the bright sun may shine wherever you are, and that the stars (which are next to the sun in brightness) may never flash so brilliantly but that you can always look steadily and hopefully towards them.

-- Faithfully your friend,

"A. WARD."