hen Mr. Carleton said: "Where is that chap who plays the banjo?
I think he could do it."

I was, fortunately, blessed with a wonderful memory. I knew every song,
every number of the music and every word of the dialogue in the opera; in
fact, starting from the opening lines I could read it right through. They
found me about half past five in the afternoon, and I went over to the
theater.

Mr. Carleton met me, and came at me with the rather surprising question:
"Can you play Bigelow's part?"

I said, "Yes, sir."

He said: "Do you want a rehearsal?" I said: "No, sir."

"All right," he said; "then be here at seven o'clock."

I went on that night and never missed a number. In the middle of the
performance, Mr. Carleton said to me:

"Now, let loose. Do anything you like."

Being exceedingly limber, I did a slide down the run, stumbling over
everything, and made a hit from the start. From that time on I took
liberties that no one else in the company dared.

Mr. Carleton was a very strict disciplinarian, but he always encouraged me
to go ahead. After two or three years playing leading roles in the
principal opera companies, I determined to step forward and go after "the
big things." So back to New York I came, still unknown.

After waiting around for three months, I decided that the world was
against me; that a bright and shining light was being crushed. Also, that
a law ought to be passed whereby no Englishman could come to this country
and play.

Took Bull by the Horns.

I remember standing on the corner of Twenty-Eighth Street and Broadway,
with my head just full of such anarchistic ideas, when something plainly
said to me:

"If you are as darn good as you think you are, why don't you go out and
get a job? There is room for every one."

I immediately walked over to the office of Jesse Williams, a dramatic
agent, and said, "I want a job. I will play prima-donna roles or old men's
roles. I want a job, and I don't care what it is."

He said, "I don't think I have anything for you."

"You MUST have something for me, and I have got to have it," I replied.

"Well, call around and see me later," said he.

"I will do anything, and if I am not all right, and don't prove
satisfactory, it won't cost you a cent," I persisted.

"Well, you come around and see me to-morrow."

There was a little fat man sitting in the office--and he turned to me and
said:

"Wait a minute."

Then he went over and had a talk wit