r was of good family, and possessed a large estate in ----shire. I
was an only son, and should have inherited my father's estate, had not a
rascally uncle of mine cheated me out of it.

I was looked upon as a lad of great promise by my fond parents, and
from earliest youth seemed destined for the stage; for as far back as I
can remember my greatest delight was to see a pantomime. I was more
precocious than the general run of children at my age, for at an age
when few children have begun to read I was already manager of a toy
theatre. This taste of mine grew with my growth, and was encouraged by
my parents--probably because they saw it was an innocent amusement and
kept me out of mischief.

At ten years old I began to write plays, in which I used to act myself
and invite my schoolfellows to act with me. This rendered me very
popular at school, both with the boys and with the masters, and I won
many a prize for public speaking and for learning by heart long passages
from Shakespeare and other poets.

At fourteen I grew ambitious, and published a book of plays under my own
name, which, unluckily, was cut up unmercifully by the critics. This was
mortifying enough, but added to this I had to bear my father's
displeasure for having published the book under his name, my parent
believing it a great disgrace for a son of his to write books or plays.
So he gave me a severe reprimand, and from that time forth thought it
his duty to discourage my taste for the drama. But nature will have her
own way, in spite of whatever obstacles parents, and friends place in
her path, and at fifteen I yearned for the mysteries of the "green
room."

I had secretly, but no less determinedly, set my heart on following the
stage as a profession, and one day my father took me into his study, and
said it was high time I should make up my mind what profession to
follow. I replied that I had made up my mind already what profession to
follow. I told him that I intended to be an actor. At this he told me to
get such ideas out of my head as soon as possible, that he would never
allow a son of his to disgrace his name by associating it with the
stage.

I repeated my determination. He grew furious, and after beating me,
locked me up in my room and ordered bread and water to be brought to me
by a servant. This treatment, he told me, was to last until I had come
to my senses. However well this mode of proceeding might have answered
with a youth of less sp