Tylney Long and Mr. Coates at some fete-champetre. The old man thought
for some time, but he could not help me. Where then, I asked him, could
I search old files of local news-papers? He told me that there were
supposed to be many such files mouldering in the archives of the Town
Hall.

I secured access, without difficulty, to these files. A whole day I
spent in searching the copies issued by this and that journal during the
months that Romeo was in Bath. In the yellow pages of these forgotten
prints I came upon many complimentary allusions to Mr. Coates: 'The
visitor welcomed (by all our aristocracy) from distant Ind,' 'the
ubiquitous,' 'the charitable riche.' Of his 'forthcoming impersonation
of Romeo and Juliet' there were constant puffs, quite in the modern
manner. The accounts of his debut all showed that Mr. Pryse Gordon's
account of it was fabulous. In one paper there was a bitter attack on
'Mr. Gordon, who was responsible for this insult to Thespian art, the
gentry, and the people, for he first arranged the whole production'--an
extract which makes it clear that this gentleman had a good motive for
his version of the affair.

But I began to despair of ever learning what happened at the
fete-champetre. There were accounts of 'a grand garden-party, whereto
Lady Belper, on March the twenty-eighth, invited a host of fashionable
persons.' The names of Mr. Coates and of 'Sir James Tylney Long and his
daughter' were duly recorded in the lists. But that was all. I turned at
length to a tiny file, consisting of five copies only, Bladud's Courier.
Therein I found this paragraph, followed by some scurrilities which I
will not quote:

'Mr. C**t*s, who will act Romeo (Wherefore art thou Romeo?) this
coming week for the pleasure of his fashionable circle, incurred the
contemptuous wrath of his Lady Fair at the Fete. It was a sad pity she
entrusted him to hold her purse while she fed the gold-fishes. He was
very proud of the honour till the gold fell from his hand among the
gold-fishes. How appropriate was the misadventure! But Miss Black Eyes,
angry at her loss and her swain's clumsiness, cried: "Jump into the
pond, sir, and find my purse instanter!" Several wags encouraged her,
and the ladies were of the opinion that her adorer should certainly dive
for the treasure. "Alas," the fellow said, "I cannot swim, Miss. But
tell me how many guineas you carried and I will make them good to
yourself." There was a great deal of