Nat Goodwin's Book

s coaches, lumbering and crushing their way through the streets of the usually quiet village, while others in good old Puritan fashion had come afoot and across fields and by-ways. Altogeth

on the campus was nothing compared with the resounding clas

an, salutatorian, orator nor poet might lack that proper sort of encouragement, without which any affair of this nature must ne

es almost as resounding as the words themselves. At length my name was announced by our precepto

one by one they seemed to come before my vision until the room was filled. I finished, I thought, in a hush and was utterly oblivious to the great burst of applause which greeted my efforts. My seat-mate, poor Charlie Thomas who in after years was associated with Charles Hoyt, the writer and producer of many successful farce comedies, grabbed me by the arm and hurled me back up

n to dream of the life to come. I saw

pers. The notices pleased me beyond words and brought more joy to my young heart than a

eyes, and a complexion as fair as a girl's mounted the rostrum and spoke his lines. Such elocution must have awakened unusual inter

rted! The notices in the Portland papers fanned the smoke into a flame and from that day I determined to become an actor. Some years before I had become imbued with the idea, the inspiration coming from my living in close proximity to an actors' boarding-house kept by a Mrs. Fisher at No. 3 Bulfinch Place, Boston. Many and many a time have I waited betwee

fs. I returned it to the owner and he thanked me very graciously. The incident was too much for my young

to appear at a charity benefit to be preceded by this breakfast. I was playing at the time at the Bijou Theatre, New York, but I arranged to leave on the midni

e me welcome home where, he said, all loved me. "Come and sit by me, my son," said he, and as I turned to answer him he looked to me like a god. I was privileged to sit by the genius whose coat hem I had in years gone by waited for hours to touch. He was unconsciously rewarding me for my boyish hero-worship. He was touching my

layhouse. I was so nervous that I could scarcely make up, but I kn

ac

iam

comedian th

in the right-hand box beaming upon my incompetency. I was dreadfully self conscious. I knew I was in the presence of a master and try as I would nothing seemed to get ove

?" Before he could answer the tall figure of Warren appeared at the door and he said, "I couldn't have done it better myself, young man!" Then he patted me on the shoulder, saying, "Hurry, or you'll miss your train." He shoo

angloss and about all of Shakespeare's clowns have never been equaled by any player of any age. He ha