At another time my friend (I am describing actual experiences)
introduced himself as a literary gentleman in the last extremity of
distress. He had had a play accepted at a certain Theatre - which
was really open; its representation was delayed by the
indisposition of a leading actor - who was really ill; and he and
his were in a state of absolute starvation. If he made his
necessities known to the Manager of the Theatre, he put it to me to
say what kind of treatment he might expect? Well! we got over that
difficulty to our mutual satisfaction. A little while afterwards
he was in some other strait. I think Mrs. Southcote, his wife, was
in extremity - and we adjusted that point too. A little while
afterwards he had taken a new house, and was going headlong to ruin
for want of a water-butt. I had my misgivings about the water-
butt, and did not reply to that epistle. But a little while
afterwards, I had reason to feel penitent for my neglect. He wrote
me a few broken-hearted lines, informing me that the dear partner
of his sorrows died in his arms last night at nine o'clock!

I despatched a trusty messenger to comfort the bereaved mourner and
his poor children; but the messenger went so soon, that the play
was not ready to be played out; my friend was not at home, and his
wife was in a most delightful state of health. He was taken up by
the Mendicity Society (informally it afterwards appeared), and I
presented myself at a London Police-Office with my testimony
against him. The Magistrate was wonderfully struck by his
educational acquirements, deeply impressed by the excellence of his
letters, exceedingly sorry to see a man of his attainments there,
complimented him highly on his powers of composition, and was quite
charmed to have the agreeable duty of discharging him. A
collection was made for the 'poor fellow,' as he was called in the