"I really must have it in me to do something in the acting-line," he told
himself.

Becomes a Farm Boy.

But soon after this a big change in his life occurred. He left Brooklyn
and went West to study--what do you suppose? Nothing short of farming. It
was decided that he should learn to become a tiller of the soil, although
he had been born and brought up in a city.

At twenty dollars a month, then, he started in to milk the cows, do the
chores and make himself generally useful about the place. But it did not
take him long to discover that for a young fellow of eighteen, the
prospects in such a life were not very illuminating.

Finally he decided to give it up, and he went to Kansas City, where he had
a friend who obtained for him a post as bookkeeper in a mercantile
establishment. He continued in this environment for several months, but
one day he awoke to the fact that the more satisfactory he proved himself
as a bookkeeper, the more likelihood there was that he would never rise to
anything higher.

At this time he had twenty-one dollars in the bank, but it availed him
little, as the bank failed. With what he had in his clothes, he set out
for St. Louis, where he hadn't a friend, determined to find out if fate
could not do something for him in a city so big as that.

Made a Swimming Instructor.

He was walking about the streets on his arrival, his hands in his almost
empty pockets, wondering if anything would turn up for him or whether he
was expected to set to work and turn it, when his eyes were attracted by
a gaudy advertising wagon, emblazoned on both sides with the announcement
of a new swimming-school. The sight set a train of possibilities stirring
in the youth's mind. He was a swimmer and a good one; he hadn't neglected
his opportunities in having been reared so close to Coney's isle.

Noting the address of the swimming-school, he hunted out the place,
obtained an interview with the manager, and set forth his own
accomplishments with such success that he was forthwith engaged as one of
the swimming-masters at a salary of four dollars a week. This was
afterward increased to seven, and when one day he saved the life of a man
who was drowning in the pool, he was raised to the munificent wage of ten
dollars a week.

But now, in a city atmosphere again, the bug of acting began to stir
within him once more. The sight of the billboards and of the theaters
themselves, reawakened the old craving to strut b