sudden
news of irreparable ruin. I cannot quite tell, said Mr. Archer in
effect, why it was not admirable acting, and yet it was not If he could
have told, he went on to say, he might himself have been an excellent
actor, and not a critic. But he wanted something--something was missing.

The miserable fact was this. I had never worn a wig in the part until
that night, and I had forgotten for a mere instant that I wore one then.
It was a part of the stage business to dash my wideawake hat to the
ground, and--the wig came with it. For two or three dreadful seconds I
stood frozen, expectant of the howl of laughter which generally
follows such an accident. But the fates were kind, and the thing passed
unnoticed save by two or three. My natural hair was much of the length
and colour of the wig, and no derisive roar sounded in my ears. But I
shall never forget the horror of those few waiting seconds; and I should
like to ask Mr. Archer how far in his judgment such an occurrence might
excuse an actor's momentary absence from pure nature.

I was once hit in the eye by a fragment of half-sodden turf thrown up by
the explosion of a shell, and had time to think myself a dead man before
I realised what had happened. On one occasion, his Excellency Ibrahim
Pasha threatened to hang me out of hand; and I believed he meant to do
it. I have been in many awkward corners in my time; but my inward forces
were never more thoroughly routed than by that episode of the lost wig
on the stage of the Globe Theatre.

XII

I suppose the confession I am about to make will stamp me in the minds
of a great many people as an irredeemable barbarian. I care little for
that, however, and I am staunch in the opinions which I have held all my
lifetime. Perhaps my voice may find an echo here and there.

I am a lover of the noble art of self-defence, and to my way of thinking
few greater blunders have been made by those who legislate for our
well-being than was fallen into by the moral people who abolished the
Prize-Ring. It should be admitted at once that the Ring was full of
abuses at the time at which an end was made of it; but it was not beyond
mending, and a marked deterioration has been noticeable in the character
of our people since the sport of the Ring ceased to be a source of
popular amusement. British fair play was a proverb amongst the roughest.
The rules of the game were recognised even in a street fight, and the
man who broke them was