Darkest Africa 3a: Rumours of my death....

During the extravagant coverage of the opening of the Royal Horticultural Gardens by His Royal Highness the Prince Consort on 5th June, 1861, certain lines of correspondence submitted to the Times did not receive the attention from that august organ's readership that they perhaps deserved.  Here is one such example, penned in green ink:

Sir,

I must say that rumours of my death are greatly exaggerated.

Certainly Jones-Featherstone and Crenshaw-Williams bought the farm, and all those native soldiers I employed... WASTE OF MONEY SIR, A WASTE!

D*** it all.

However, my African adventures are over.

Well, until someone invents some kind of machine that can fire many bullets in a short space of time- Ha!- that would level the playing field somewhat. Even tip it completely.

yours, blah, blah, blah,

Willam Smythe-Bletherington

Putney

If I had all the money I'd spent on drink, I'd spend it on drink.