arly like hers, and so are the legs. She is a nasty
disagreeable thing, and I know it will make her very cross when she sees
it; and what I say is that I hope it may. You will say the same I
know--at least I think you will.

I meant to have written you a long letter, but I cannot write very fast
when I like the person I am writing to, because that makes me think
about them, and I like you, and so I tell you. Besides, it is just eight
o'clock at night, and I always go to bed at eight o'clock, except when
it is my birthday, and then I sit up to supper. So I will not say
anything more besides this--and that is my love to you and Neptune; and
if you will drink my health every Christmas Day I will drink
yours--come.

I am,

Respected Sir,

Your affectionate Friend.

P.S. I don't write my name very plain,[128] but you know what it is you
know, so never mind.

50. TO MR. W. C. MACREADY

Saturday, May 24th, 1851.

My dear Macready,

We are getting in a good heap of money for the Guild. The comedy has
been very much improved, in many respects, since you read it. The scene
to which you refer is certainly one of the most telling in the play. And
there _is_ a farce to be produced on Tuesday next, wherein a
distinguished amateur will sustain a variety of assumption-parts, and in
particular, Samuel Weller and Mrs. Gamp, of which I say no more. I am
pining for Broadstairs, where the children are at present. I lurk from
the sun, during the best part of the day, in a villainous compound of
darkness, canvas, sawdust, general dust, stale gas (involving a vague
smell of pepper), and disenchanted properties. But I hope to get down on
Wednesday or Thursday.

Ah! you country gentlemen, who live at home at ease, how little do you
think of us among the London fleas! But they tell me you are coming in
for Dorsetshire. You must be very careful, when you come to town to
attend to your parliamentary duties, never to ask your way of people in
the streets. They will misdirect you for what the vulgar call "a lark,"
meaning, in this connection, a jest at your expense. Always go into some
respectable shop or apply to a policeman. You will know him by his being
dressed in blue, with very dull silver buttons, and by the top of his
hat being made of sticking-plaster. You may perhaps see in some odd
place an intelligent-looking man, with a curious little wooden table
before him and three thimbles on it. He will want you to bet, but don't
do