Florence, going home late one night, found upon his dining-
room table a very tender note in a lady's handwriting. The
signature was unknown to him, and after carefully considering



CHATS BY THE WAY, AND JESTS. if)i

the epistle, he came to the conclusion that his friend Sothem
was the author of it. Mrs. Florence had fortunately retiifed
before its arrival. Florence immediately wrote, and despatched
by a messenger-— one of the pleasant facilities for communica-
tion you have in New York — a furious letter to Sothem, from
whose persecution, as he regarded it, in another matter, he was
keenly suffering at the moment

** Your conduct," he wrote, "is neither that of an actor not
a gentleman.*'

In the morning he regretted the letter he had written ; but
the messenger-boys of New York are almost as swift as the
telegraph. His letter had been duly received.
A few weeks afterwards Florence met Sothem in Union
Square.
"How d'you do, Florence?" said Sothern* " You*re quite
ii stranger,"

" That's how I have been feeling,'- said Florence. " Ever
since I wrote that letter to you I concluded it would put an
end to our friendship."

"That letter — what letter? Oh, yes, I remember t some-
thing about neither an actor nor a gentleman ? But there was
no name at the bottom ; I remember now ; so guessing it was
intended for Boucicault, I re-directed it and sent it on."



V.
"You knew Johnnie Clarke, of course," said Toole, after a
long pause, during which time the North-Eastem train had
been mnning along at the rate of sixty miles an hour through
pleasant, restful scenery.
