My great obstacle was the want of money; for I had not the slightest doubt of getting an appearance wherever I applied, and still less of succeeding wherever I appeared.

"Fortune soon granted what my purse denied." Looking one day out of my window, my attention was arrested by a lady seemingly beckoning for me. As my devotion to the drama had entirely prevented my making any female acquaintance, I could not think the sign was for me, until, at length, recognising the features of a girl who made her first appearance as Belvidera to my Jaffier. I flew delighted to meet her. I had a kind of dreamy anticipation of my wishes being about to be consummated. I knew she had joined a travelling, or as the vulgar call it, a strolling company; and took it for granted that the manager, having heard of my transcendent abilities, had sent her with overtures of an engagement. It was not quite so flattering as I expected. The manager did want a performer, but the brute had not heard of me; and, but for Mary Anne's suggestion, my golden dream would have yet remained unrealised. One obstacle still stood in my way. The person wanted to fill up the corps dramatique was required to be generally useful, and capable of undertaking the juvenile tragedy and light comedy business. Now, though in my own opinion the first tragedian of the day, having played Zanga, Jaffier, Castalio, Sir Edward Mortimer, &c. to crowded houses and with unbounded applause, yet, as my desires never led me to flatter my vanity

in the light comedy line, I was aware of my own incapability in that respect. To say the truth, I despised every thing that bore the semblance of gaiety. My spirit feigned or fancied itself enamoured of melancholy. I could "be sad as night merely for wantonness," and endeavoured to smile like Cassius

"As if I mocked myself and scorn'd my spirit,
"That could be brought to smile at any thing."

Had I the framing of a world, at the time, it would have been made with a view to stage effect, and the whole history of man should be wound up into a tragedy plot.

With this disposition it may be imagined how grating it was to me to have it proposed that I should "jig, and amble, and lisp," and do all the buffoonery of comedy. Mary Anne overruled my objections. When the manager became aware of my great tragic powers he would require no other business at my hands, and such an opportunity of developing my talent should not be omitted. I was not difficult of conviction, and the evening was appointed for an introduction to the manager,

How anxiously I waited the hour only those can tell, who, having set their all upon the cast, watch the hazard of the die that turns up success or defeat to every future prospect. I could eat no dinner— I went amongst my books to select some passage in the event of my being asked to recite by the manager. My mind was too hurried and too agitated to allow of any selection. Confidence was beginning to give

way to fear, and for the first time in my life I began to entertain doubts of my extraordinary tragic talent. I even thought it might be possible that I was not destined to supersede the histronic fame of Mr. Kean-nay perhaps be even weighed down by Mr. Macready in the balance. Then, too, for the first time, I took into calculation the differences of tastes, and the difficulties of contending with established reputations; but this doubting mood did not long endure-once more I screwed my courage to the sticking place, and cursed the lagging hours that withheld me from the interview. It appeared as if old time retarded his pace on purpose to annoy me.

The moment, however, at length arrived. I flew to the appointment-rapped-I would have given worlds to recall the knock. My former doubts of my talents began to return, and I even meditated a retreat. Whilst I hesitated the door opened, and in a few minutes I was ushered into the dreaded preMr. C was a gay good humoured man, with whom I soon became as familar as our relative

sence.

situations would permit. I spoke a speech of Sir Giles, from the New Way to Pay Old Debts, which was approved of, and I was retained at a guinea per week as one of Mr. C's company of comedians. The salary was small, to be sure, but, with my powers, ten, twenty, one hundred guineas per week, or more, lay in the near prospective. Though a little chargrined at hearing our manager say he would prefer a somewhat trained actor to the best amateur that ever trod the private boards, I took

my leave, congratulating myself on my success, and satisfied that Mr. C. only made the observation for the purpose of concealing the rapture he must have felt at his new made prize. I only wondered he did not bind me for a certain time, and thus secure his treasure; but I generously resolved that he should, for some time at least, enjoy the fruits of the talent which he aided in developing.

On the third day after my engagement I set out for F, a stirring and beautiful little town, within about twenty miles of my native city. Here I had arranged to join the company; but to my great regret they had not yet arrived, nor did I see any bills stuck up about the public places. A gloomy morning had settled into a day of continued rain, and, as I gazed from the window of my solitary apartment on the ruins of an old castle which beetled over the swollen river, whilst the thick heavy mists hung round it like dark drapery over the huge limbs of a giant, all my former misgivings returned, and I began to dread that my visions of renown would never be realised. The day passed drearily; for, though I had friends in the town, I did not choose to make myself known to them, lest my whereabout and whatabout may reach the ears of my mother, whose suspicions I lulled by pretending a visit to the country. My only resource for killing time was in spouting away through the evening, to the no little terror of my hostess and her daughters, who, never dreaming and nothing knowing of theatricals, mistook me for a raving lunatic. Indeed,

as I afterwards learned, so great was their dread, they engaged a young man to lie that night in the house, lest in my paroxisms I might do them some bodily injury. The next day threatened to be as dreary as the preceding one, and still no tidings of the manager or the company. Whilst standing wearily, almost despairingly, at the door of my lodgings, a very curious looking person came up, and, with a ceremonious bow said, "How do you sir?" I followed the direction of his eye, which glanced past me into the hall, to see whom it was he saluted, but finding the place empty, concluded the compliment was intended for myself, and returned his bow. "Beg pardon," he said, "for addressing you so abruptly, but hearing you were of Mr. C's company of comedians, I thought-as a brother actor, and as there are none of the corps in town but you and Ithat it was better break through ceremonials and introduce myself. My name is Tully--I have been in town since yesterday, regret I did not know you were here sooner, or I should not have passed the lonely and disagreeable night I did last. We actors are social dogs and hate solitude." Chesterfield in one of his letters,says of Cicero, that, if he spoke his orations in a blanket, more would come to laugh at than admire him. The Irish Mr. Tully was certainly not much indebted either to nature or art for his appearance or costume. He was a low set man,

of a dingy brown colour. A profusion of black, thickly-matted, coarse, curling hair, escaping from a little hat, almost the shape of a lamp cover, and