‘It immediately struck me that, if I could get the ex-M. P. to perform in our circus, it would be a great draw. With this object in my mind, I waited on Mr Townsend the next morning, and explained to him my views. “Heaven knows,” he said in reply, “I want money bad enough; but to do this in Greenwich would be impossible.” I did not give it up, however, but pressed him on several occasions, until at last he consented to appear as Richard III. for a fortnight, on sharing terms. The next difficulty was as to who should sustain the other characters in the play, there being no one in the company, except Mr Ginnett and myself, capable of taking a part. We got over the difficulty by cutting the piece down, and Mr Ginnett and myself doubling for Richmond, Catesby, Norfolk, Ratcliffe, Stanley, and the Ghosts. The business, notwithstanding these drawbacks, turned out a great success; so much so, that Mr Townsend insisted on treating the whole of the company to a supper. Shortly afterwards, he went to America. ‘In the following year, while at Cardiff, we got up an equestrian spectacle entitled _The Tournament; or, Kenilworth Castle in the Days of Good Queen Bess_, for which we required many supernumeraries to take part in the procession, the most important being a handsome-looking female to impersonate the maiden Queen. Walking down Bute Street one day, I espied, serving in a fruiterer’s shop, a female whom I thought would answer our purpose admirably. So I walked in, and made a small purchase, which led to conversation; and by dint of a little persuasion, and explaining the magnificent costume to be worn, the lady consented to attend a rehearsal on the following day. She came to the circus, received the necessary instructions, and seemed highly gratified when seated on the throne, surrounded by her attendants. ‘On the first night of the piece, everything went off well until its close, when Mr Ginnett rushed into my dressing-room, in great excitement, exclaiming, “There is that infernal woman sitting on her throne!” I immediately proceeded to the ring-doors, and there, to my dismay, saw the Queen on the throne by herself, and the boys in the gallery pelting her with orange peel. I beckoned to her, but she seemed to have lost all presence of mind. I sent one of the grooms to fetch her off, and amidst roars of laughter her royal highness gathered up her robes, and made a bolt. It appeared that the Earl of Leicester, who should have led her off, had, for a joke, told her to stay until she was sent for.’