tter go,'
he said. 'Lots to be seen. You don't know what you are losing, I tell
you.'

Hiram was not influenced by his companion's importunity, but he decided
to go, nevertheless. The elder Kean was then in New York, and the old
Park Theatre in all its glory. That evening Kean was to play Shylock in
the 'Merchant of Venice.' Hill, greatly pleased that at last he had made
some headway, took another glass of brandy and water, and the young men
proceeded to the theatre. The house was crowded from galleries to pit.
The orchestra was playing when they entered.

Hiram was blinded by the brilliancy of the gaslights. His heart beat
fast in spite of his effort to be composed.

The play began with some second-rate actors, who went through the first
scene with the usual affected stage strut and tone. Hiram thought he
never witnessed anything more unnatural and ridiculous. Even in the
second, where Portia and Nerissa hold a dialogue, he was rather
disgusted than otherwise. The machinery had scarcely been adjusted for
the third scene, when a storm of applause burst from all parts of the
house; clapping of hands, stamping of feet, bravos, and various noises
of welcome commingled, and Hiram beheld an old man enter, somewhat bent,
dressed in a Hebrew cap and tunic, having a short cane, which would
serve either for support or as a means of defence. As he advanced, he
cast sidelong, suspicious, and sinister glances from beneath bushy,
beetling eyebrows.

At first Hiram was inclined to believe it was a real personage, so
natural was his entrance--so destitute of all trick, or of anything got
up.

'That's Kean,' whispered Hill.

Hiram held his breath as the words of the Jew broke distinctly on the
house:

'_Three thousand ducats--well._'

He entered at once with the deepest interest into the play. With head
leaning forward, eyes open wide and fixed on the speaker, he drank in
every word. From the first he sympathized with the main character. When
Shylock went on to say: 'Yet his means are in supposition: he hath an
argosy bound to Tipolis, another to the Indies. I understand, moreover,
upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England; and
other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. But ships are but boards,
sailors but men. There be land rats and water rats, land thieves and
water thieves--I mean pirates; and there is the peril of waters, winds,
and rocks. The man is notwithstanding sufficient:'--Hiram unconscious