"An actor, and a New Yorker. Shake again. Put it there," as he extended his hand. Then looking at Handy closely for a moment, he turned to Weston and said: "Say, Wes, I know this man, though he don't seem to know me." "Indeed, Mr. McGowan, you have the best of me." "Sure," responded McGowan. "Well, here's to our noble selves," and the trio drained their cups. "An' now, Mr. Handy, to prove my words that I know you. You used to spout in the old Bowery Theatre? Ah, I thought so. Knew Bill Whalley? Of course you did. Poor Bill--he's dead. A good actor, but a better fellow. He was his own worst friend. And there was Eddy. Eddy. Eddy. He was a corker. Yes, he cashed in many years ago. Then there was Mrs. W. G. Jones. God bless her! Dead. God rest her soul. She was the salt of the earth. And what has become of J. B. Studley? Wasn't he a dandy, though, in Indian war plays? You bet! Jim McCloskey, I think, used to fix them up for him. And will you ever forget G. L.--Fox, I mean. There never was his equal in funny characters, and as a pantomimist no one ever took his place. They tell me the old spout shop is now turned into a Yiddish theatre. Well! well! well! How times are changed! I suppose the fellows I knew in days gone by are changed too--those of them that remain, I mean. The ones that are dead I know are." "Yes," replied Handy, "you'd find New York a much changed city since then. It was, I believe, Dutch originally; then for a time the Irish had a hack at it; but all the nations of the earth having sent in their contributions of all sorts and sizes and tongues, it's purty hard now to make out what it is." "Wonders will never stop ceasing, will they? Well, Wes"--and Big Ed turned and directed his attention to the landlord--"what did you come up here for? You came up after something. What's the little game? Want to buy land?" "No. I'll tell you. Our friend here, Mr. Handy, at my suggestion, made this visit with me to see you on a little speculation of our own. Mr. Handy a week--not quite a week ago--came out to my town with a theatrical troupe to show for a week. The company played one night, when the staress grew tired and quit after the first heat and went home to mother. This brought the season to a premature close." "Nothing particularly new in that," answered McGowan; "but continue." "Well, under the circumstances we--Mr. Handy and myself--got our heads together and came to the conclusion to run up here and have a talk with you and see if we couldn't make some arrangements to bring the company up and give a show." "I see. That's the racket, eh? Where did you propose to give it?" "In that new hall of yours, of course."