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To the Theatrical Critic of the Sunday Despatch
D Sir,
Since my debut at the Walnut St. Theatre more than three years ago, I have sought to know, but in vain, in reply to my several inquiries, I have been told that your name is Wescott, that it is Reese and the last (description?) I had of you was you were some (?) old (fe?) to the Despatch who love to find fault with every thing. Now the only way you can (dis?) my mind of so harsh an idea is to let me get a (peep?) of you, the (which?) (?) your will, which I am (se?) you until when I tell you that by so (?) you will much oblige + favor me.
I have a new play which I desire that you would.. I have not been able to read many myself, I can (o?) to (?) when the eyes of other for all my (study?). Apart from the pleasure it would give me to make the acquaintence of the good (a?) [incomprehensible]
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