actor, whose life I may be said to have strangely
influenced, for it was I who brought him and the Arcadia Mixture
together. After that his coming to live on our stair was only a matter
of rooms being vacant.

We met first in the Merediths' house-boat, the _Tawny Owl_, which
was then lying at Molesey. Gilray, as I soon saw, was a man trying to be
miserable, and finding it the hardest task in life. It is strange that
the philosophers have never hit upon this profound truth. No man ever
tried harder to be unhappy than Gilray; but the luck was against him,
and he was always forgetting himself. Mark Tapley succeeded in being
jolly in adverse circumstances; Gilray failed, on the whole, in being
miserable in a delightful house-boat. It is, however, so much more
difficult to keep up misery than jollity that I like to think of his
attempt as what the dramatic critics call a _succes d'estime_.

The _Tawny Owl_ lay on the far side of the island. There were
ladies in it; and Gilray's misery was meant to date from the moment when
he asked one of them a question, and she said "No." Gilray was strangely
unlucky during the whole of his time on board. His evil genius was
there, though there was very little room for him, and played sad pranks.
Up to the time of his asking the question referred to, Gilray meant to
create a pleasant impression by being jolly, and he only succeeded in
being as depressing as Jaques. Afterward he was to be unutterably
miserable; and it was all he could do to keep himself at times from
whirling about in waltz tune. But then the nearest boat had a piano on
board, and some one was constantly playing dance music. Gilray had an
idea that it would have been the proper thing to leave Molesey when
she said "No;" and he would have done so had not the barbel-fishing
been so good. The barbel-fishing was altogether unfortunate--at least
Gilray's passion for it was. I have thought--and so sometimes has
Gilray--that if it had not been for a barbel she might not have said
"No." He was fishing from the house-boat when he asked the question. You
know how you fish from a house-boat. The line is flung into the water
and the rod laid down on deck. You keep an eye on it. Barbel-fishing, in
fact, reminds one of the independent sort of man who is quite willing to
play host to you, but wishes you clearly to understand at the same time
that he can do without you. "Glad to see you with us if you have nothing
better to do; but please