I took to him at once, and he to me. His real name was a distinguished one which he shared, it turned out, with some cousins of my own. We were, therefore, related. The bond was deepened. Times had gone hard with him, it seemed, but at the moment he was on the stage, being understudy to Morton Selton as Merivale in “Captain Lettarblair,” which E. H. Sothern’s company was then playing. In “The Disreputable Mr. Reagen,” by, I think, Richard Harding Davis he had also played the rôle of the detective. He was waiting, however, for a much better post, as huntsman to the Rockaway Hunt, a Long Island fashionable club, and this post, oddly enough, was in the gift, he told me, of Davis. It had been practically promised to him, he might hear any day.... The story of his many jobs and wanderings interested us, and his theatre work promised to be helpful in many ways to what was called my “room-mate.” Boyde’s experience of New York generally was invaluable to us both, and the fact that he had nowhere to sleep that night (having been turned out by his landlady) gave us the opportunity to invite him to our humble quarters. We mentioned the other tenants, but he said that made no difference, he would sleep on the sofa. He dined with us at Krisch’s; he was extremely hard up; luckily, we still had enough to invite a friend. His only luggage was a small bag, for he told us, with a rueful smile, that his clothes were all in pawn. I had an extra suit or two which, being of about my size, he was able to wear. I felt immensely drawn to him, and his story touched my pity as well as stirred my admiration. It was a happy evening we all spent in the little bedroom, for he was not only well-read--he knew my various “Eastern books” and could talk about them interestingly--but had a fine tenor voice into the bargain. My fiddle came out of its case, and if the other lodgers disliked our duets, they did not, at any rate, complain. Boyde sang, he further told us, in the choir of the 2nd Avenue Baptist Church, and was assistant organist there as well, but made little out of this latter job, as he was only called upon when the other man was unable to attend. He even taught sometimes in the Sunday School--“to keep in the pastor’s good books,” as he explained with a laugh. But the chief thing he told us that night was the heartening information that, when all other chances failed, there was always a fair living to be earned by posing to artists at 50 cents an hour, or a dollar and a half for a full sitting of three hours. It was easy work and not difficult to get. He would gladly introduce us to the various studios, as soon as they opened, most of the artists being still in the country.