mours of Parliament," with my imitations of ranting
M.P.'s--nearly a two hours' tearing recitation--to large audiences every
night, was perhaps sufficient for one man. The excitement of the success
I made, the "booming," interviewing, and unavoidable entertainment at
every town, the late hours, the early start, the business worries, fresh
to each place, day after day, week after week, can only be understood by
those who have gone through it. But this was only part of my work. Each
week as I travelled I had to keep up my contributions to _Punch_--a
whole page and several small drawings. I also wrote an article, fully
illustrated, on every town I went to week by week for _Black and White_
(subsequently reprinted in book form, "On Tour"), to say nothing of
drawing in the train.

Let me briefly give a fair average of one day's work at the time:

[Illustration: REDUCTION OF A PAGE DRAWING FOR _PUNCH_ MADE BY ME WHILST
TRAVELLING BY TRAIN.]

_Morning._--Start 9.30 train, eight hours' journey,--means up at seven,
breakfast at eight. In train dictate letters to secretary, who takes
down in shorthand. (I never yet found a secretary who could write in a
train. I can write quite easily; the secret is to _sit up_, holding pad
in hand, and let the body move with the oscillation of the train. To
write on your knee or on a table, or in any other way but this, is
impossible.) 3.30 arrive at destination; go to hotel and order dinner.
Then to my "travelling studio"--a large case fitted up with everything
necessary for drawing in black and white. Straight to private
sitting-room, order dinner to be ready in half-an-hour, at work at
once--before the others and the luggage arrive. After light dinner, to
hall or theatre to see if arrangements are complete. Then visit from
local manager or secretary--friends--strangers, a walk round the town to
get "copy," tea, a good hour's drawing (no matter how tired I can work
on tea), dress, off to evening's work on stage; autographs to be written
and people to meet; back to change, supper at some club, speeches; back
3 a.m., bed, sleep--no, only occasionally. Hotel servants turn on
electric light, begin sweeping the passage--sw--w--w--whish,
sw--w--w--whish! they chat and laugh just outside one's door; they
gradually sweep down the long, long passage. Doze--sleep. Bang, bang!
"Five o'clock, sir." Bang, bang! the Boots awakening commercial men for
early trains. Thump, thump! baggage packing-room over y