t week. It is a highly interesting letter, written in
great distress, and confirms the story of his starvation. You see the
signature."

{Venice Preserved = a well-known play by Otway, written in 1682}

"That name, Otway?--Well, to my mind it is as much like Genghis Khan."

"Oh, my lord!--Thomas Otway clearly--signatures are always more or less
confused.

"Well, have it your own way.--It may be Tom, Dick, or Harry for all I
care," said the youth, stretching himself preparatory to a visit to his
kennels; and such was his indifference to this literary treasure that
he readily gave it to his tutor. In those days, few lords were literary.

Mr. Lumley's delight at this discovery, was very much increased by the
fact that he was at that moment anxious to bring out an edition of the
English Tragedians of the seventeenth century. The lives of several of
these authors had been already written by him, and he was at that
moment engaged on that of Otway. A noted publisher had taken the matter
into consideration, and if the undertaking gave promise of being both
palatable to the public, and profitable to himself, a prospectus was to
be issued. Now here was a little tit-bit which the public would
doubtless relish; for it was beginning to feel some interest in Otway's
starvation, the poet having been dead half a century. It is true that
the signature of the poor starving author, whoever he may have been,
was so illegible that it required some imagination to see in it, the
name of Otway, but Mr. Lumley had enough of the true antiquarian
spirit, to settle the point to his own entire satisfaction. The note
was accordingly introduced into the life of Otway, with which the
learned tutor was then engaged. The work itself, however, was not
destined to see the light; its publication was delayed, while Mr.
Lumley accompanied his pupil on the usual continental tour, and from
this journey the learned gentleman never returned, dying at Rome, of a
cold caught in the library of the Vatican. By his will, the MS. life of
Otway with all his papers, passed into the hands of his brother, an
officer in the army. Unfortunately, however, Captain Lumley, who was by
no means a literary character, proved extremely indifferent to this
portion of his brother's inheritance, which he treated with
contemptuous neglect.

After this first stage on the road to fame, twenty more years passed
away and the letter of the starving poet was again forgotten. At length