On the Monday, finding it would be impossible for him to play, he procured a substitute, and immediately had bills printed and posted outside the theatre. His absence made a difference of about fifty pounds in the receipts; but as his son played Scaramouch, and played it well, he sustained no greater pecuniary loss, and had the satisfaction of hearing from all quarters that his son was rapidly improving. After the lapse of a month Grimaldi became tolerably well, and as it was now time for him to keep his engagement with Dimond, he went to Bath in November, and remained there until the middle of December, occasionally acting at Bristol. The profits of this trip were two hundred and ninety-four pounds. It was either during this provincial trip, or about this time, that he first became acquainted with Mr. Davidge, the late lessee of the Surrey Theatre. He was then the Harlequin at Bath and Bristol, and although he afterwards became a round and magisterial figure, was then a very light and active pantomimist. In the pantomimes Davidge was the Harlequin, and Grimaldi of course the Clown. They were accustomed to call the Pantaloon, who was a very indifferent actor, by the name of "Billy Coombes,"--why, they best knew, but it seems not to have been his real name. This worthy had given both Davidge and Grimaldi mighty offence upon several occasions, possibly by making his appearance on the stage in a state of intoxication. Grimaldi forgot the precise cause of affront, but, whatever it was, they deemed it a very great one; and Davidge, upon several occasions, took opportunities of hinting, in speeches fraught with determination and replete with a peculiar variety of expletives, that he was resolved some time or other to be revenged upon that Billy Coombes. One evening, while the pantomime was in progress, and the two friends were exciting much mirth and applause, Davidge pointed to a chest which was used in the piece, and whispering that there was a lock upon it with a key, remarked that Billy had to get into it directly, and asked whether it would not be a good joke to turn the key upon him. Grimaldi readily concurred, and no sooner was the unconscious Billy Coombes beneath the lid of the chest, than he was locked in, amidst the plaudits of the audience, who thought it a capital trick. There were but two more scenes in the pantomime, which Davidge had to commence. Just as he was going on the stage, Grimaldi inquired whether he had let out the Pantaloon. "No," he replied hastily, "I have not, but I will directly I come off." So saying, he danced upon the stage, followed by Grimaldi, and the usual buffeting ensued with the accustomed effect. The pantomime was over a few minutes afterwards, and Grimaldi, who felt very tired when he had gone through his part, in consequence of his recent illness, went straight home, and was in bed a very short time after the curtain fell.