Just then the horn of the stage-coach was heard in the distance, and in a short time the horses were at the door. Our two travellers took their seats, after having been repeatedly invited to return, and some jovial sallies having passed between our host and the driver over a stiff glass of grog, the coach started, and was soon out of sight. After their two friends had departed the rest of the club set out together for an hour's stroll before breakfast, to enjoy the fresh morning air, walking all of them abreast, and taking up all the carriage road. The way was long and lonely--not a soul stirring, and the landscape as far as they could see covered with snow; but the sky was cheerful, and the little birds sang overhead. Our club felt exhilarated by the nipping air, and discoursed by the way on divers subjects, until Mr. Oldstone, whose appetite for stories was insatiable, said that he saw no reason why Mr. Blackdeed's story that was to come next should not enliven their walk. The proposal was seconded, and Mr. Blackdeed, finding himself loudly called upon, began his story thus: I must begin, then, gentlemen, by informing you that my family name is not the one I bear at present. It is many years since I dropped that. My father was of good family, and possessed a large estate in ----shire. I was an only son, and should have inherited my father's estate, had not a rascally uncle of mine cheated me out of it. I was looked upon as a lad of great promise by my fond parents, and from earliest youth seemed destined for the stage; for as far back as I can remember my greatest delight was to see a pantomime. I was more precocious than the general run of children at my age, for at an age when few children have begun to read I was already manager of a toy theatre. This taste of mine grew with my growth, and was encouraged by my parents--probably because they saw it was an innocent amusement and kept me out of mischief. At ten years old I began to write plays, in which I used to act myself and invite my schoolfellows to act with me. This rendered me very popular at school, both with the boys and with the masters, and I won many a prize for public speaking and for learning by heart long passages from Shakespeare and other poets. At fourteen I grew ambitious, and published a book of plays under my own name, which, unluckily, was cut up unmercifully by the critics. This was mortifying enough, but added to this I had to bear my father's displeasure for having published the book under his name, my parent believing it a great disgrace for a son of his to write books or plays. So he gave me a severe reprimand, and from that time forth thought it his duty to discourage my taste for the drama. But nature will have her own way, in spite of whatever obstacles parents, and friends place in her path, and at fifteen I yearned for the mysteries of the "green room."