view. I soon reached the stage door with my band-box, and inquired for Mrs. Powell. The porter took the box, and all I saw was the dark and narrow passage leading to the stage. I remember, to this day, the smell of oil, powder, rosin, and other villanous odors which mingle at the entrances of theatres, and was in full ascendance at the door of the Boston theatre, in Theatre Alley.

Disappointed, I was slowly retracing my steps when I encountered a German musician, Mr. Von Hagen. With a view to reconcile myself to my dissappointment, I indulged in a habit, often my resource in similar cases, of whistling, for whith accomplishment I had considerable talent. My musical exercise attracted the notice of Mynheer Von Hagen, a member of the Boston theatre orchestra; at that time he had some reputation as a violinist and composer of music. "Littel boy," said Von Hagen, "you vissle vere good; perhaps one of dese day you shall be a musician."

His praises elated me. I was not satisfied until I found out who he was, and when I did find him to be a musician, I called upon him. Inquiring into my history, I discovered that he had formerly known my father.

This worthy German appeared anxious to give me lessons in music, and actually did begin to instruct me in this science; but, alas! he had a failing which interfered with his prosperity, and my progress in the art of sweet sounds.

It is unnecessary to speak further of Von Hagen's weakness. Its character may be gathered, with a moral reflection for those who have indulged in the folly, from the source so often applied in these words :

-

"What a fool is a man

To put an enemy in his mouth

To steal away his brains!"

An old German flute served my purpose to practice some of the lessons of Von Hagen, and to annoy the neighbors who had not sagacity enough to discover music in my-variations of the musical scale. Thus, from whistling, I slid into flute-playing; and at one time I encouraged the idea that I should become a famous musician.

In later life, the whistling mania occasionally beset me; and, while in Europe, a song, the "Whistling Boy," was arranged for me, and, when sung, honored with encores and applause.

With this description of my early musical development, I take leave of the subject, with the simple reflection, that my parents, being both musicians, may account for my whistling predilections.

Nearly a year I continued in Boston, cultivating` a truant disposition, and, in the mean time, anxious only for an opportunity to display my itinerant propensities.

I could not remain long in this condition, and finally decided to leave my home and my mother.

CHAPTER V.

"One man in his time plays many parts."

EARLY JOURNEYINGS-VISIT TO NEW YORK--GO INTO BUSINESS--PEEP BEHIND THE CURTAIN OF THE PARK THEATRE-ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE PERFORMERS FIRST WITNESS A PLAY MEET MY BROTHERLEARN COMIC SONGS-CHOICE OF STEPS TO DRAMATIC FAME-I SELECT THE CHARACTER OF A PERUVIAN, WHO HAD NOT MUCH TO DO AND NOTHING TO SAY, IN PIZARRO— APPEAR BEFORE A NEW YORK AUDIENCE FOR THE FIRST TIME- GIVE AN ENTERTAINMENT BROOKLYN-AM ENGAGED BY A COUNTRY MANAGER, AND COMMENCE ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE VICISSITUDES OF A STROLLER'S LIFE-LOVE AND ROMANCE.

IN

I LEFT Boston, and arrived safely in New York, occupying the time of my first day in the metropolis with reading the show-bills. The posters of that day were insignificant things compared to the blanket bills now announcing the great attractions offered at the theatres and museums, circuses and concert-rooms, of the dif ferent state capitols, into which all modern amusements, even to Italian opera, have been introduced as things of course.

As I read the names of Cooper, Barnes, and other stage heroes of the time, my dramatic fire began to

burn.

Necessity required that I should smother the rising flame; and, in the vicinity of Chatham street, a placard in a jeweller's window-" Boy wanted"-attracted my notice. I entered, and inquired for the master of the shop.

When he ascertained that I was from Boston, he received me on trial, and I immediately began the duties of my office, the general nature of which may be summed up as follows:

---

Open the shop; hang out the signs; lay out the rows of watches, rings and jewelry; run errands; dunning customers who had forgotten to pay their bills; carrying parcels to patrons' houses, &c.

My reward was, plenty to eat-a good bed to sleep and dream on; and many a bright dream cheered my labors, after a day of toil, suggested by the realities seen through the day, in the shape of the actors and actresses who frequented our store to purchase the glittering decorations so necessary to their costumes, when, before the lamps of the theatre, they strutted the kings, queens, lords, ladies, princes, or dandies of the hour.

Then, again, I had leisure to read books of comic songs, I studied them, I sung them. The Hunters of Kentucky was an especial favorite with me. I visited the theatre. Who can describe, within a league of the truth, the excitement of a first night at the play? Many have attempted it; yet no description, that has come to my knowledge, from the pen of author, approaches the reality of my first visit to the Park Theatre.

Such

I wish I had kept the play-bill of that night. a list of actors and actresses-all from some theatre royal, London. American talent then was hardly known. Plays and players were all imported. A few of the home-bred filled up the gaps; but the features of the play were from the other side of the "big pond."

I shall not describe Yankee Hill, when the green

curtain fell, for the last time, on the doings of that first night; nor shall I play the critic, using the players according to their deserts.

To me all was great-grand; and, as I walked slowly home, thinking of the duties next day in the store, it occurred to me that I should like to try a hand at playing; and the thoughts of brown paper, silver spoons, gold watches, legs of mutton, and all the pomp and circumstances of glorious trade, and domestic usefulness, vanished before the more glittering display of Dutch metal, glass diamonds, and embroidered satins, which were present ever after to my longing mind.

I know not if acting is like some diseases to which the flesh is heir, to be taken in the natural way, and by inoculation.

My friendly reader will have learned that I was predisposed to the contagion of the dramatic virus, before I ventured into that infected district-the Park theatre.

I had been inoculated; the effects of the operation were fast developing; and my employer, without calling to his aid much of his natural stock of sagacity, had detected the symptoms of an incurable case.

I had obtained admission to the theatre behind the scenes; and the mysteries of that part of the temple of Thespis, behind the green curtain, were, in some degree, unfolded to my view.

At last, another step to proud ambition was offered for my choice.

To aid the "Grease," as the lamp-lighter was termed · in stage vocabulary, in his dispensation of oil and wick; or to make one of the crowd of Roman citizens or soldiers, in the tragedies acted nightly for the purpose