ne day, and he
overheard three ladies discussing the respective merits of Corney Grain
and myself. Two of them were for Corney Grain and one was for me.
Finding at last that the odds were too strong for her, she departed with
this final shot: 'Well, never mind, Mr. Corney Grain can't jump on to a
piano,' referring to my imitation of Minnie Palmer."

[Illustration: "A FLASHY YOUNG CAD, IN A VERY LOUD SUIT."]

Replying to a question I put to him as to his theatrical experiences,
Mr. Grossmith told me that it was in the November of 1877 that he
received the following letter:--

"Beefsteak Club,

"King William Street,

"Tuesday Night.

"Dear Mr. Grossmith,--Are you inclined to go on the stage for a time?
There is a part in the new piece I am doing with Gilbert which I think
you would play admirably. I can't find a good man for it. Let me have a
line, or come to Albert Mansions to-morrow, after 4; or Thursday,
before 2.30.

"Yours sincerely,

"ARTHUR SULLIVAN."

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

"This was a great moment in my life, although at the time my father,
whose good judgment I valued much, was of opinion that I was not very
successful as an actor. Sullivan, however, who had heard me give a
musical sketch at a dinner party, was of the contrary opinion, and felt
sure that I should suit him. It appears he and Arthur Cecil were both
writing letters at the Beefsteak, when the former said, 'I can't find a
fellow for this opera.' Cecil said, 'I wonder if Grossmith--' Before he
had finished the sentence, Arthur Sullivan said, 'The very man!' And so
I was engaged. I am much indebted to these two Arthurs," continued the
bright little man with a laugh. "I reverence the very name of Arthur. I
remember when Gilbert wanted to engage me for the part of _John
Wellington Wells_, though I saw the part would suit me to perfection, I
said to him, 'I should have thought you required a fine man with a fine
voice for the part of a magician.' I can still see Gilbert's humorous
expression as he replied, 'That is just what we _don't_ want.' I played
_Sir Joseph Porter_ in 'Pinafore' every night for nearly two years. Long
runs don't affect the nerves of the actors nearly as much as they affect
the performance. Constant repetition begets mechanism, and that is a
terrible enemy to contend against. I make a point of playing my best to
a bad house; for it is a monstrous thing to slur through one's work
because the stalls are empty, a