not being able to
perform, and acquitted myself so well that the papers were full of the
wonderful young actor. From this time my name began to be famous. I
received a good salary, dressed fashionably, and entered into the best
society. Nevertheless, I was aware of the prejudice that the world has
against an actor, however celebrated he may be, so whenever I went into
society, I dropped the name of Blackdeed, and resumed my own rightful
one. Many, however, on being introduced to me remarked how much I
resembled the celebrated young actor Blackdeed; but it was not for some
time afterwards that it was generally known that we were one and the
same person.

One evening, as I was entering a ball-room, I noticed that when my name
was announced some confusion took place. As I entered, who should come
forward to meet me but my father, whom I had not seen for three years.
He advanced towards me, more in sorrow than in anger, and addressed me
in tones in which pride and natural affection strove for the mastery.

"We meet at last, sir," he said; "I leave it to your conscience to
imagine the state of anxiety into which you have thrown your poor mother
and myself by your cruel conduct. I would fain have overlooked the whole
as a boyish freak, had you returned home of your own accord and sought
my pardon; as it is, what can I say to you for having disgraced my
name?"

"Disgraced your name, father! How?"

"Yes, sir; disgraced my name, by associating it with the stage--a name
untainted and highly honoured for many generations back."

"Indeed, sir," I said, "I never yet heard that talent or genius could
disgrace a name. However, aware of your prejudice against the stage, I
have dropped your name, which might otherwise have become famous, and
act under a fictitious one."

"Humph!" said he, somewhat pacified that his name had escaped disgrace.
"And what may be your theatrical name?"

"Blackdeed," said I.

"What! So you are the celebrated young actor everyone talks so much
about," said he. "Well, well, you have been very foolish and very wrong,
but if you consent to leave this life and return home with me, all may
yet be well. Come," he said coaxingly.

"Father," I said, "my course is mapped out. I have chosen my profession,
and I must follow my true avocation. The voice of nature is stronger
than yours. Seek not to battle against my destiny."

My father, though immensely disappointed at my determination, would not,
I believe