hild, what a pity it is that
in your husband's tragedy he should have to take the horrid name of
Captain Smith!"

Upon this tragedy not only my literary hopes, but much of my financial
prospects were founded. My brother's debts discharged, my mother's
drafts from home duly honoured, my own expenses paid, which, though
moderate, were not inconsiderable,--pretty nearly the whole of my
patrimony had been spent, and this auspicious moment I must choose
for my marriage! I could raise money on my inheritance: that was not
impossible, though certainly costly. My mother could not leave her
eldest son without a maintenance, whatever our quarrels might be. I had
health, strength, good wits, some friends, and reputation--above all, my
famous tragedy, which the manager had promised to perform, and upon the
proceeds of this I counted for my present support. What becomes of the
arithmetic of youth? How do we then calculate that a hundred pounds is
a maintenance, and a thousand a fortune? How did I dare play against
Fortune with such odds? I succeeded, I remember, in convincing my dear
General, and he left home convinced that his son-in-law had for the
present necessity at least a score of hundred pounds at his command. He
and his dear Molly had begun life with less, and the ravens had somehow
always fed them. As for the women, the question of poverty was one of
pleasure to those sentimental souls, and Aunt Lambert, for her part,
declared it would be wicked and irreligious to doubt of a provision
being made for her children. Was the righteous ever forsaken? Did the
just man ever have to beg his bread? She knew better than that! "No, no,
my dears! I am not going to be afraid on that account, I warrant you!
Look at me and my General!"

Theo believed all I said and wished to believe myself. So we actually
began life upon a capital of Five Acts, and about three hundred pounds
of ready money in hand!

Well, the time of the appearance of the famous tragedy drew near, and my
friends canvassed the town to get a body of supporters for the opening
night. I am ill at asking favours from the great; but when my Lord
Wrotham came to London, I went, with Theo in my hand, to wait on his
lordship, who received us kindly, out of regard for his old friend,
her father--though he good-naturedly shook a finger at me (at which my
little wife hung down her head), for having stole a march on the good
General. However, he would do his best for her father's