With deepest apologies for the prolonged pause since my last letter, I greet you most fondly and must apprise you of the strange and mysterious candle whose acquaintance I have recently made.
This candle, of which I speak, is cylindrical in aspect. On its surface is a sort of waxen miniature, depicting a ship trapped in arctic ice. (A not dissimilar scene, incidentally, to that in which I found myself last year, when I met the mad scientist Frankenstein, and then met his monstrous undead creation, whom for the purpose of economy of words I also refer to as Frankenstein. Do you recall, when I was in the arctic and met Victor Frankenstein, and his monster, Frankenstein? I wrote you a few letters about it but I know you are busy.)
The candle’s label claims it smells like a wooden ship trapped in the arctic ice, but having been on just such a ship with a crew of filthy, unwashed sailors for several months I must disagree most vehemently. I would instead describe the scent as “cedarwood and vanilla,” and I assume the chandlers responsible for the candle believed (perhaps correctly) that a candle smelling of unwashed sailors would have found—if possible—an even more niche market.
In any event, I thought you would be interested in hearing about this candle. I hope this correspondence finds you well, and I remain your obedient servant,
