n a boy, down to the old Theatre
Royal, Dublin. On the way there Jehu enquired of the budding artist
whether it was true that the roof was provided with a tank whence every
part of the building could be deluged, shower-bath fashion, if
necessary. 'Yes,' replied Raphael junior; 'and, you see, I always bring
an umbrella in case of fire.'"

[Illustration: PHELPS, THE FIRST ACTOR I SAW.]

I may confess that I have only once appeared in theatricals, and that
was in high comedy as a member of the Dublin Amateur Theatrical Society.
The play was "She Stoops to Conquer," and I took the part
of--think!--_Mrs._ Hardcastle. I was only seventeen, and very small for
my age, so I owe any success I may have made to the costumier and
wig-maker. The Tony Lumpkin was so excellent that he adopted the stage
as his profession, and became a very popular comedian; and our Diggory
is now a judge--"and a good judge too"--in the High Court.

It was on a bright, breezy morning late in July, 1873, I shook the dust
of "dear dirty Dublin" off my feet. With the exception of the Welsh
railways, the Irish are notoriously the slowest in the world, and on
that particular morning the mail train seemed to my impatient mind to
progress pig-ways. The engine was attached to the rear of the train and
faced the station, so that when it began to pull it was only the
"parvarsity in the baste" caused it to go in the opposite direction,
towards Kingstown, in an erratic, spasmodic, and uncertain fashion, so
that the eight miles journey seemed to me eighty. It was quite a tedious
journey to Salthill and Blackrock. At the latter station I saw for the
last time the porter famous for being the slave of habit. For years it
had been his duty to call out the name of the station, "Blackrock!
Blackrock! Blackrock!" In due course he was removed to Salthill station,
on the same line, and well do I remember how he puzzled many a Saxon
tourist by his calling out continually, "Blackrock--Salthill-I-mane!
Blackrock--Salthill-I-mane!" No doubt the traveller put this chronic
absent-mindedness down to "Irish humour." I must confess that I agree in
a great measure with the opinion of the late T. W. Robertson (author of
"Caste," "School," &c.), that the witticisms of Irish carmen and others
are the ingenious inventions of Charles Lever, Samuel Lover, William
Carleton, and other educated men.

[Illustration: MRS. HARDCASTLE. MR. HARRY FURNISS, FROM AN EARLY
SKETCH.]

Dickens failed