y many folks knowing it, the story should come
out, which would infallibly damn it. You remember I had sent it before
you went. Wroughton read it, and was much pleased with it. I speedily
got an answer. I took it to make alterations, and lazily kept it some
months, then took courage and furbished it up in a day or two and took
it. In less than a fortnight I heard the principal part was given to
Elliston, who liked it, and only wanted a prologue, which I have since
done and sent; and I had a note the day before yesterday from the
manager, Wroughton (bless his fat face, he is not a bad actor in some
things), to say that I should be summoned to the rehearsal after the
next, which next was to be yesterday. I had no idea it was so forward. I
have had no trouble, attended no reading or rehearsal, made no interest;
what a contrast to the usual parade of authors! But it is peculiar to
modesty to do all things without noise or pomp! I have some suspicion it
will appear in public on Wednesday next, for W. says in his note, it is
so forward that if wanted it may come out next week, and a new melodrama
is announced for every day till then; and "a new farce is in rehearsal,"
is put up in the bills. Now, you'd like to know the subject. The title
is "Mr. H.," no more; how simple, how taking! A great H. sprawling over
the play-bill and attracting eyes at every corner. The story is a
coxcomb appearing at Bath, vastly rich, all the ladies dying for him,
all bursting to know who he is; but he goes by no other name than Mr.
H.,--a curiosity like that of the dames of Strasburg about the man with
the great nose. But I won't tell you any more about it. Yes, I will, but
I can't give you an idea how I have done it. I'll just tell you that
after much vehement admiration, when his true name comes out,
"Hogs-flesh," all the women shun him, avoid him, and not one can be
found to change their name for him,--that's the idea,--how flat it is
here; [1] but how whimsical in the farce! And only think how hard upon me
it is that the ship is despatched to-morrow, and my triumph cannot be
ascertained till the Wednesday after; but all China will ring of it by
and by. N.B. (But this is a secret,) The Professor [2] has got a tragedy
coming out, with the young Roscius in it, in January next, as we
say,--January last it will be with you; and though it is a profound
secret now, as all his affairs are, it cannot be much of one by the time
you read this. However, don