ubrations, but only whether _they_ may hope to
profit by them. If the "Guild" should tend to increase the number of
aspirants to the honors and rewards of Authorship, it will incite more
misery than it is likely to overcome.

However, this is an attempt to mend the fortunes of unlucky British
Authors; and as we Americans habitually steal the productions of British
Authorship, and deliberately refuse them that protection to which all
producers are justly entitled, I feel myself fairly indebted to the
class, by the amount of my reading of their works to which Copyright in
America is denied. I meant to have attended the first dramatic
entertainment given at Devonshire House in aid of this enterprise, but I
did not apply for a ticket (price L5) till too late; so I took care to
be in season for next time--that is, Tuesday evening of this week.

The play (as before) was "Not so Bad as We Seem, or Many Sides to a
Character," written expressly in aid of the "Guild" by Bulwer, and
performed at the town mansion of the Duke of Devonshire, one of the most
wealthy and popular of the British nobility. On the former evening the
Queen and Royal Family attended, with some scores of the Nobility; this
time there was a sprinkling of Duchesses, &c., but Commoners largely
preponderated, and the hour of commencing was changed from 9 to 7 1/2
P. M. The apartment devoted to the performance is a very fine
one, and the whole mansion, though common-place enough in its exterior,
is fitted up with a wealth of carving, gilding, sculpture, &c., which
can hardly be imagined. The scenes were painted expressly in aid of the
"Guild," and admirably done. The Duke's private band played before and
between the acts, and nothing had been spared on his part to render the
entertainment a pleasant one. Every seat was filled, and, at $10 each
and no expenses out, a handsome sum must have been realized in aid of
the benevolent enterprise.

The male performers, as is well understood, are all Literary amateurs;
the ladies alone being actresses by profession. Charles Dickens had the
principal character--that of a profligate though sound-hearted young
Lord--and he played it very fairly. But stateliness sits ill upon him,
and incomparably his best scene was one wherein he appears in disguise
as a bookseller tempting the virtue of a poverty-stricken author.
Douglas Jerrold was for the nonce a young Mr. Softhead, and seemed quite
at home in the character. It was better