Kenny is a writer of a class which, in our time, is at the very bottom of the literary scale.

He is a dramatist.
Most of the farces, and three-act plays, which have succeeded during the last eight or ten years, are, I am told, from his pen.

Heaven knows that, if they are the farces and plays which I have seen, they do him but little honour.

However, this man is one of our great comic writers.
He has the merit, such as it is, of hitting the very bad taste of our modern audiences better than any other person who has stooped to that degrading work.

We had a good deal of literary chat; and I thought him a clever shrewd fellow.
My father is poorly; not that anything very serious is the matter with him; but he has a cold, and is in low spirits.
Ever yours T.B.M.
London: October 14, 1833 Dear Hannah,--I have just finished my article on Horace Walpole.