member that it was ever borne in upon me
that the reservoir could hardly hold out for ever, and that it was time
to be doing something on a more permanent and extended scale. The cause
of that act of prudence and sagacity was owing mainly to a travelling
menagerie. I had had in my mind, for some time, to write a sort of
autobiography (of which character first novels almost always consist, or
at least partake), but had in truth abstained from doing so on the not
unreasonable ground that my life had been wholly destitute of incidents
of public interest. True, I had mended that matter by the wholly
gratuitous invention of a cheerless home and a wicked sister, but I had
hitherto found nothing more attractive to descant upon than my own
domestic wrongs. Even if they had existed, it was doubtful whether they
would have aroused public indignation, and I mistrusted my powers of
making them exist. What I wanted was a dramatic situation or two (a
'plot,' the evolution of which by no means comes by nature, though the
germ is often an inspiration, was at that time beyond me), and
especially the opportunity of observation.

[Illustration: A WICKED SISTER]

[Illustration: signed drawing: James Payne]

My own slender experiences were used up, and imagination had no material
to work upon; one can't blow even glass out of nothing at all. Just in
the nick of time arrived in Edinburgh, where I was then editing
_Chambers's Journal_, Tickeracandua, 'the African Lion Tamer.' At that
time (though I have seen a great deal of them since) lions were entirely
out of my line, and also tamers; but this gentleman was a most
attractive specimen of his class. Handsome, frank, and intelligent, he
took my fancy from the first, and we became great friends. 'His actual
height,' says my notebook, 'could scarcely have been less than six feet
two, while it was artificially increased by a circlet of cock's feathers
set in a coronet, which the majority of enraptured beholders believed to
be of virgin gold. A leopard skin, worn after the fashion of a Scotch
plaid, set off a jerkin of green leather, while his legs were encased in
huge jack boots.' This, of course, was his performing dress, and I used
to wonder how the leopards (with whom he had a great deal to do) liked
his wearing their relative's cast-off clothing. In the 'leopard-hunt'
(twice a day) these animals raced over him as he stood erect, and each,
as it 'took off' from his shoulder, left its mark t