to one of Seymour�s, from which it appeared that his cousin
had called him imbecile, denounced him as guilty of all sorts
of malice &c in coming to a house where Seymour was, with
others, Cahill being drunk at the time. Finally Seymour cut
him altogether. I think he must have acted cruelly in the mat-
ter, for Cahill suffered very much subsequently, being frightfully
hard-up. He is really a good fellow, kind natured and thorough-
ly English in the better sense, at heart. He�s improvident, sprees
a little, and gets into debt � those are his faults. He and Ar-
nold lived together at the old Ornithoryncus, wrote plays together,
starved together, drank and smoked together. Burton and Stuart,
managers of theatres, took their plays to read, lost �em, proposed
alterations, played fast and loose with the authors as managers
have with other poor devils and will probably do so to all time.
They � the friends � used to crib little bits of tobacco from the
counters of bar-rooms for a smoke; to write like blazes �
sometimes all night long � and in short to endure all the
shady side of Bohemianism. Here�s a song Arnold wrote on it.
�Oh! we were writing of a play,
A-writing of a farce so jolly,
Hoping we could make it pay
To drive away our melancholy!
Bow, Wow, Wow! Let us now
Give ourselves to fun and folly!
Bow, Wow, Wow!
Sometimes, also, we would go
To the gardens by the riverx