“My dear Charles,

I am about to represent, ’with entirely new dresses, scenery, and decorations,’ the Stratford Jubilee, in honour of the sweet swan of Avon.  My scene-painter is the finest artist (except your Grieve) in Europe—­my tailor is no less a genius, and I lately raised the salary of my property-man.  This will give you some idea of the capabilities of the Surrey Theatre.  However, in the hurry of “getting up,” we have forgotten one property—­every thing is well with us but our Bottom, and he wants a head.  As it is too late to manufacture, not but that my property-man is the cleverest in the world (except the property-man of Covent-garden), can you, lend me an ass’s head, and believe me, my dear Charles,

Yours ever truly,

ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON.”

“P.S.  I had forgotten to acknowledge the return of the Black-Eyed Susan score, and coats.  You were most welcome to them.”

The letter was dispatched to Covent-garden Theatre, and in a brief time the bearer returned with the following answer:—­

“MY DEAR ROBERT,

It is with the most acute pain that I am compelled to refuse your trifling request.  You are aware, my dear Sir, of the unfortunate situation of Covent-garden Theatre; it being at the present moment, with all the ‘dresses, scenery, and decorations,’ in the Court of Chancery, I cannot exercise that power which my friendship would dictate.  I have spoken to Bartley, and he agrees with me (indeed, he always does), that I cannot lend you an ass’s head—­he is an authority on such a subject—­without risking a reprimand from the Lord High Chancellor.  Trusting to your generosity, and to your liberal construction of my refusal—­and hoping that it will in no way interrupt that mutually cordial friendship that has ever subsisted between us.

Believe me, ever yours,

CHARLES KEMBLE.”

“P.S.  When I next see you advertised for Rover, I intend to leave myself out of the bill to come and see it.”

Of course this letter did not remain long unanswered.  Ben was again in requisition, and the following was the result of his labours:—­

“DEAR CHARLES,

I regret the situation of Covent-garden Theatre—­I also, for your sake, deeply regret that the law does not permit you to send me the ‘property’ in question.  I knew that law alone could prevent you; for were it not for the vigilance of Equity, such is my opinion of the management of Covent-garden, that I am convinced, if left to the dictates of its own judgment, it would be enabled to spare asses’ heads, not to the Surrey atone, but to every theatre in Christendom.

Yours ever truly,

ROBERT WILLIAM ELLISTON.”

“P.S.  My wardrobe-keeper informs me that there are no less than seven buttons missing from the captains’ coats.  However, I have ordered their places to be instantaneously filled by others.”