. That was tae come to me later on. Aye,
I've had my share of write-ups in the press; I'd had them then, in the
provincial papers. But London was anither matter.

Still, there were those who knew that a new Scotch comic had made an
audience like him. It's a strange thing how word o' a new turn flies
aboot amang those regulars of a hall's audiences. The second nicht
they were waiting for my turn, and I got a rare hand when I stepped
oot upon the stage--the nicht before there'd been dead silence i' the
hoose. Aye, the second nicht was worse than the first. The first nicht
success micht ha' been an accident; the second aye tells the tale.
It's so wi' a play. I've friends who write plays, and they say the
same thing--they aye wait till the second nicht before they cheer, no
matter how grand a success they think they ha' the first nicht, and
hoo many times they ha' to step oot before the curtain and bow, and
how many times they're called upon for a speech.

So when the second nicht they made me gie e'en more encores than the
first I began to be fair sure. And the word had spread, I learned, to
the managers o' other halls; twa-three of them were aboot to hear me.
My agent had seen to that; he was glad enough to promise me all the
London engagements I wanted noo that I'd broken the ice for masel'! I
didna blame him for havin' been dootfu'. He knew his business, and it
would ha' been strange had he ta'en me at my word when I told him I
could succeed where others had failed that had come wi' reputations
better than my own.

I think I'd never quite believed, before, the tales I'd heard of the
great sums the famous London artists got. It took the figures I saw on
the contracts I was soon being asked to sign for appearances at the
Pavilion and the Tivoli and all the other famous music halls to make
me realize that all I'd heard was true. They promised me more for
second appearances, and my agent advised me against making any long
term engagements then.

"The future's yours, now, Harry, my boy," he said. "Wait--and you can
get what you please from them. And then--there's America to think
about."

I laughed at him when he said that. My mind had not carried me sae far
as America yet. It seemed a strange thing, and a ridiculous one, that
he who'd been a miner digging coal for fifteen shillings a week not so
lang syne, should be talking about making a journey of three thousand
miles to sing a few wee songs to folk who had never he