exultingly told me of the night before it came out, that there were no less than eleven principal characters in it, and I believe he meant of the men only, for the play-bill expressed as much, not reckoning one woman and one—­; and true it was, for Mr. Powell, Mr. Raymond, Mr. Bartlett, Mr. H. Siddons, Mr. Barrymore, etc., to the number of eleven, had all parts equally prominent, and there was as much of them in quantity and rank as of the hero and heroine, and most of them gentlemen who seldom appear but as the hero’s friend in a farce,—­for a minute or two,—­and here they all had their ten-minute speeches, and one of them gave the audience a serious account how he was now a lawyer, but had been a poet; and then a long enumeration of the inconveniences of authorship, rascally booksellers, reviewers, etc.; which first set the audience a-gaping.  But I have said enough; you will be so sorry that you will not think the best of me for my detail:  but news is news at Canton.  Poor H. I fear will feel the disappointment very seriously in a pecuniary light.  From what I can learn, he has saved nothing.  You and I were hoping one day that he had; but I fear he has nothing but his pictures and books, and a no very flourishing business, and to be obliged to part with his long-necked Guido that hangs opposite as you enter, and the game-piece that hangs in the back drawing-room, and all those Vandykes, etc.!  God should temper the wind to the shorn connoisseur.  I hope I need not say to you that I feel for the weather-beaten author and for all his household.  I assure you his fate has soured a good deal the pleasure I should have otherwise taken in my own little farce being accepted, and I hope about to be acted,—­it is in rehearsal actually, and I expect it to come out next week.  It is kept a sort of secret, and the rehearsals have gone on privately, lest by 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