In 1887 my friend Mr. Beerbohm Tree, who had already won considerable distinction as an actor, decided to enter upon the management of a London theatre, and he asked me to associate myself with the enterprise. The play chosen for his first venture was _The Red Lamp_ by Outram Tristram, and it is an evidence of some element of strength and distinction in the work that it still survives, after a lapse of twenty-one years, as an integral part of Mr. Tree’s repertoire. At the first it looked very much as though it had but little chance to survive at all. Coldly received by the Press, it failed during the first days of its run to attract the notice of the public; but little by little the audiences grew in numbers, and as the season advanced the house was crowded night after night by an eager and enthusiastic public. With the close of the season Mr. Tree shifted his quarters to the Haymarket, and there it still served him as his opening production while more important work was in preparation. Those early days of managerial experiences have left many pleasant recollections. We were both of us new at our task, and both unshaken in our faith in the readiness of the public to welcome every form of serious drama. My alliance with Mr. Tree endured for some little time after his removal to the Haymarket, and it was not until two years later that, at the invitation of my friend Mr. Stuart Ogilvie, I undertook the independent direction of the Comedy Theatre. Among the writers with whom I was brought into contact during my term of management was the late Robert Buchanan, a man who undoubtedly possessed a remarkable talent, but who very often, from a certain indolence of nature, did himself less than justice. I had met him first at the Haymarket, where he had prepared a version of Daudet’s famous story of _Froment Jeune et Risler Ainé_ for production on the stage, and I confess at that time I was not prepossessed in his favour. It was impossible at first to shake off the prejudice created by that unfortunate article wherein, under an assumed name, he had attacked his brother poets; nor indeed could that particular incident in his career ever be in any way excused. But I found in my later knowledge of him that he could boast of other and better qualities than were exhibited here. A measure of poetic fancy he had always possessed, a fancy very happily illustrated in the little musical piece founded upon the story of _The Pied Piper of Hamelin_ produced under my management; but even there his better gifts suffered from a lack of persistence in working out the theme under his hand. And so it was with all that Buchanan accomplished. Sometimes a brilliantly written scene would be followed and robbed of its effect by work that was only perfunctory.