I most sincerely hope that your brother’s health is improving, and if we do not meet sooner, I shall now look forward to Dublin as our point de reunion; that will not be the least of the obligations I shall owe this happy turn of affairs.

I do not know whence I derived the deep impression I expressed in this letter of the moral dangers of the life upon which I was entering; certainly not from my parents, to whom, of course, the idea that actors and actresses could not be respectable people naturally did not occur, and who were not troubled, I am sure, as I then was, with a perception of the more subtle evils of their calling.  I had never heard the nature of it discussed, and was absolutely without experience of it, but the vapid vacuity of the last years of my aunt Siddons’s life had made a profound impression upon me,—­her apparent deadness and indifference to everything, which I attributed (unjustly, perhaps) less to her advanced age and impaired powers than to what I supposed the withering and drying influence of the overstimulating atmosphere of emotion, excitement, and admiration in which she had passed her life; certain it is that such was my dread of the effect of my profession upon me, that I added an earnest petition to my daily prayers that I might be defended from the evil influence I feared it might exercise upon me.

As for my success, there was, I believe, a genuine element in it, for puffing can send upward only things that have a buoyant, rising quality in themselves; but there was also a great feeling of personal sympathy for my father and mother, of kindly indulgence for my youth, and of respectful recollection of my uncle and aunt; and a very general desire that the fine theater where they had exercised their powers should be rescued, if possible, from its difficulties.  All this went to make up a result of which I had the credit.

Among my experiences of that nauseous ingredient in theatrical life, puffery, some have been amusing enough.  The last time that I gave public readings in America, the management of them was undertaken by a worthy, respectable person, who was not, I think, exceptionally addicted to the devices and charlatanism which appear almost inseparable from the business of public exhibition in all its branches.  At the end of our first interview for the purpose of arranging my performances, as he was taking his leave he said, “Well, ma’am, I think everything is quite in a nice train.  I should say things are in a most favorable state of preparation; we’ve a delightful article coming out in the ——.”  Here he mentioned a popular periodical.  “Ah, indeed?” said I, not quite apprehending what my friend was aiming at.  “Yes, really, ma’am, I should say first-rate, and I thought perhaps we might induce you to be good enough to help us a little with it.”  “Bless me!” said I, more and more puzzled, “how can I help you?” “Well, ma’am, with a few personal anecdotes,