“It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain faults of two kinds, first, the faults of one who has necessarily much to learn in the mechanism of his art; and, secondly, of one who, having written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not unfrequently mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to these, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and broken spirits, which render the author more susceptible than he might have been some years since to that spirit of depreciation and hostility which it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the general contributors to the periodical press for the consciousness that every endeavor will be made to cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if possible, to RUN DOWN, will occasionally haunt even the hours of composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. “Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write for the stage (which nothing but an assurance that, with all my defects, I may yet bring some little aid to the drama, at a time when any aid, however humble, ought to be welcome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to do), may I be permitted to say a few words as to some of the objections which have been made against this play?” Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you put forrards here, why your play shouldn't be good. First. Good plays are almost always written by actors. Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. Third. You MAY be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist by trade, and not a play-writer. Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder. For shame, for shame, man! What confeshns is these,--what painful pewling and piping! Your not a babby. I take you to be some seven or eight and thutty years old--“in the morning of youth,” as the flosofer says. Don't let any such nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What, you, an old hand amongst us,--an old soljer of our sovring quean the press,--you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank (ay, and DESERVED them too!--I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, and say, “I AM a man of genius: Y-ll-wpl-sh says so”),--you to lose heart, and cry pickavy, and begin to howl, because little boys fling stones at you! Fie, man! take courage; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, as the poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you: punish us like a man, or bear your own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such misrabble lodgic as that above. What do you? You give four satisfackary reazns that the play is bad (the secknd is naught,--for your no such chicking at play-writing, this being the forth). You show that the play must be bad, and THEN begin to deal with the critix for finding folt!