We then discussed the drama, and he told us exactly what the young actor should think and feel about his profession. It was clear that I had not thought and felt at all rightly on the subject of the stage, for I had rather intended to shine, and be somebody, and play the tragic lead, and so on. But Mr. Bulger was all for quite a different spirit. He worshipped at the shrine of Art, and explained that in the service of Art we must regard the world and ourselves as well lost. He advised a spirit of self-sacrifice, and admitted it was not so much the ruling principle in the histrionic mind as it should be. He said some hard things about actor-managers, and declared that in some cases the charwomen who cleaned their theatres were doing more for Art than they were. His eyes blazed against actor-managers in general, and they must tremble when they hear his name. Presently we rose to take our leave, and then, diving among a mass of tickets and documents, he produced a card of admittance to the Clapham Assembly Room on the occasion of an amateur theatrical entertainment a fortnight hence. “You can try your hand at that, Mr. Corkey,” he said to me. “You may, in fact, criticise the show for our columns. Keep it short, and don’t indulge in pleasantries at the expense of the company. The Macready Dramatic Club of Clapham is a well-meaning body and their productions are most painstaking. Let me have an account of your expenses, as I shall defray them according to my rule.” This was, naturally, a very great moment for me. I had but one fleeting twinge that perhaps it was rather rough on the Macready Dramatic Club of Clapham; but I thanked Mr. Bulger heartily for placing such confidence in me, and promised that I would devote the whole of my energies and experience to the performance. Not until Brightwin and I had left the editorial presence did I begin seriously to doubt; but he assured me that it was quite unnecessary. “My dear chap,” he said, “you spend all your spare time at the theatre; you are studying for the stage, and you have an immense natural aptitude for the art; therefore, if you are not good enough to review the efforts of a purely amateur crowd of this sort, you ought to be.” So I imitated Brightwin’s slightly scornful view of the Macreadies of Clapham, and felt that, if I could keep up this haughty spirit through the actual performance, all might possibly be well. XI I was now quite one of the busiest men in London. Every moment of my time was occupied, and I felt it a bore to have to go to bed at all and waste precious hours in the arms of Morpheus.