After the usual salutation, my uncle inquired of me what I was going to do for a living?

My mother, who still fancied I should be a great minister, a lawyer, or a doctor, answered that she should see as soon as my education was completed.

He had better go to a

He can read and I never liked the You know, Nancy,

"Why," said he, "George don't need no more edication. He is a smart boy, and can get along without it, as I did at his age. When he's rich, and can afford it, he can larn if he's a mind to. trade, and larn in his master's time. write, and cipher, and that 'ill do. idea of his going to the 'cademy. 'cademys cost money; and, s'pose the teachin' don't cost much, it's bad for poor folks' children to go to 'em; it gives 'em notions, on other pints, they can't afford to have. George 'ill be a good boy without any more larnin', and do well. Won't you, George ?"

I said, "Yes, uncle," for I had an idea that there were but a few really great men in the State of Massachusetts, and, in consideration of all I heard of this uncle's importance and pomposity, I felt sure he was one of the great men, if not the greatest. My mother listened to him as an oracle of wisdom, and was often influenced by his advice.

"You see, George," he continued, “I hear you are a smartish boy, and some folks say you'll do for a minister, like your uncle Hull. Well, so you may; but that's a good ways off, and ministers don't often get rich by preachin'. Some say 'Edicate him for a lawyer.' Well, all these kind of edications is expensive; and if any accident should happen to you before you get wholly larn'd for the business, that is, s'pose you should die-we're all likely to die-then all the money laid out

in 'cademy expenses, and college larnin', would be lost. Best way is to work along-don't you think so? Now, George, s'pose you go into a tavern, tend table first, and go around; perhaps you'll have to work a leetle in the stable, among the horses-see the jockeys-hear 'em talk. Cute fellows--generally have their eye-teeth cut. You can go to evening school. I know a master will take you cheap. I'll take your wages, and pay the master out of the store. That will keep trade going, and be doing good all round. Don't you see it right,

George ?"

I said "Yes," but I did not see any such thing. After my uncle's departure I retired, full of projects, and dreaming of my uncle's plans for me, with all sorts of variations.

I was occupied for some time in the store assisting my mother. In dull times, however, I had much leisure, and often traversed the streets of Boston, intent upon. one wish that of seeing the inside of a theatre; and, as I strolled through the city, I began a practical education, the lessons of which were of a character that had a fixity about them not to be forgotten in after days.

On one occasion, I was standing near a celebrated milliner's in Washington street, when a lady said to me, "Little boy, what is your name?" I disliked the salutation, "little boy;" however, I replied "Hill." "Well, Hill," said the lady, "do you know the way to the Boston theatre ?" I answered, "Yes." "Then," said she, “will you carry that box to the stage door of the theatre for Mrs. Powell ?"

My eyes and mouth opened wide to say "yes." The theatre that I had so often wished to see on the inside, when gazing on the outside, seemed now open to my

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 which 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-I FIRST WITNESS A PLAY-I 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—I APPEAR BEFORE A NEW YORK AUDIENCE FOR THE FIRST TIME—I GIVE AN ENTERTAINMENT IN BROOKLYN-AM ENGAGED BY A COUNTRY MANAGER, AND COMMENCE ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE VICISSITUDES OF A STROLLER'S LIFE—LOVE AND ROMANCE.

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.