aid that if I started business again so soon after
my late experiences I might get into further difficulties.

But, as a matter of fact, the real reason of my refusing their offer was
that what I almost looked upon as a divine inspiration had come to me in
the meantime. Why should the experiences I had gained while managing the
Royal Artillery Theatre at Woolwich for one whole week be lost to the
world, and particularly to Australia? I had been manager for that week,
and I had been one of the stars of the company. Why, of course, it would
be criminal not to give the Melbourne public the opportunity to judge of
my capabilities as an actor. So, on a Monday midday I called at the Bijou
Theatre, Bourke Street, of which the lessee was Mr. Wybert Reeve, who was
running his own company and playing at that time _The Woman in White_. He
was a good, sound, old-fashioned actor. I interviewed him in his sanctum
and told him that I was anxious to go on the stage.

"Have you acted before?" he asked.

"Oh, yes," I said, quite in a lordly way; and I told him of my
experiences at Woolwich. He was not in the least impressed.

"What salary do you expect?" he then asked.

"I should think that four pounds a week would be a fair commencement," I
answered.

You should have seen the expression on his face. He looked at me for a
few moments in silence, and then exclaimed:

"Why, good gracious! Do you know that I was acting nearly five years
before I earned a pound a week? And you want to begin with four pounds a
week."

"Well," I said, "you must have begun a considerable number of years ago.
Times change. Besides, I have some very excellent clothes, and they are
surely worth something in their way."

Well, he laughed, for he appeared to have been somewhat favourably
impressed by what he no doubt considered my impertinence and
self-conceit, and told me that at the moment his company was full, but
that if I left him my address he would communicate with me as soon as an
opportunity arose.

On the very next Thursday afternoon I received a note from him at the old
White Hart Hotel, asking me if I would call upon him as soon as
convenient. I arrived there at seven that evening, and found him waiting
for me in his dressing-room, where he was preparing to make up for his
part as Count Fosco, in which he had been quite a success. He opened the
conversation by asking me if I was prepared to take on the part of
Careless in _The School for Scan