"Jack Robinson," I had dealt him a splendid blow on the side of the head
with the stick. He groaned and rolled over, getting to the other side of
the curtain. Then he resumed the perpendicular and took to his heels,
without offering a word of explanation on the matter. I feel no qualm in
saying that his exit was more hasty than his approach. I tried to think
who my intruder could be, and my thoughts fixed upon the man who had been
told off that night to commence watching the theatre.

RETURNING HOME

There was no more sleep for me that night, after the fore-going. I
prepared myself, and in the early morning quitted the place where I spent
a very pleasant part of my theatrical life. In the street I came across a
policeman on his beat--not the one from Clayton West this time. I wished
him "Good morning," and passed on. From Barnsley I walked to Wakefield,
and thence to Bradford, forward to Keighley by train.

A RECOLLECTION OF KEAN, THE ACTOR

On my way to Keighley, I could not but turn over in my mind the thoughts
relating to the friendships formed on the stage, or in connection
therewith. I remember that one of the Barnsley company was an aged actor,
Mr John Copeland. He interested himself very much in me, and gave me from
time to time good advice. He told me to leave the stage, and take to some
more reliable and permanent employment. He pictured himself as a result
of sticking closely to the profession, saying he had had more than
half-a-century of experience of its ups and downs. In his old age, though
he loved the stage and warmly praised the art of acting, he held that the
rewards were not commensurate to the skill employed, and that when these
were forthcoming the temptations were so insidious as to be ruinous
unless the moral atmosphere of the profession itself was purified. The
old man's ideal was high and he was fond of saying that with all its
defects--defects which were largely caused by the professionals
themselves--the drama and the art of portraying it would last as long as
human nature. I was drawn to the old man, and felt for him. I often took
his part, especially where he had to appear in a gross character. At his
time of life, he did not like to blacken his face, and on one occasion
when we were playing "Uncle Tiff," the old man was grateful because I
relieved him of that character. It was a pathetic part--a sort of nigger
being left in charge of children after the parents' death. Old Co