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, but you know what it is you know, so never mind. [Sidenote: Mr. W. C. Macready.] DOUGHTY STREET, _Monday Morning._ MY DEAR MACREADY, I have not seen you for the past week, because I hoped when we next met to bring "The Lamplighter" in my hand. It would have been finished by this time, but I found myself compelled to set to work first at the "Nickleby" on which I am at present engaged, and which I regret to say--after my close and arduous application last month--I find I cannot write as quickly as usual. I must finish it, at latest, by the 24th (a doubtful comfort!), and the instant I have done so I will apply myself to the farce. I am afraid to name any particular day, but I pledge myself that you shall have it this month, and you may calculate on that promise. I send you with this a copy of a farce I wrote for Harley when he left Drury Lane, and in which he acted for some seventy nights. It is the best thing he does. It is barely possible you might like to try it. Any local or temporary allusions could be easily altered. Believe me that I only feel gratified and flattered by your inquiry after the farce, and that if I had as much time as I have inclination, I would write on and on and on, farce after farce and comedy after comedy, until I wrote you something that would run. You do me justice when you give me credit for good intentions; but the extent of my good-will and strong and warm interest in you personally and your great undertaking, you cannot fathom nor express. Believe me, my dear Macready, Ever faithfully yours. P.S.--For Heaven's sake don't fancy that I hold "The Strange Gentleman" in any estimation, or have a wish upon the subject. [Sidenote: Mr. W. C Macready.] 48, DOUGHTY STREET, _December 13th, 1838._ MY DEAR MACREADY, I can have but one opinion on the subject--withdraw the farce at once, by all means. I perfectly concur in all you say, and thank you most heartily and cordially for your kind and manly conduct, which is only what I should have expected from you; though, under such circumstances, I sincerely believe there are few but you--if any--who would have adopted it.