May tells you. A Mr. Rising who played at the Comedy Theatre, introduced Mr. May to Lionel Brough, who purchased the original sketch of Irving, Bancroft and Toole for £2 2s., and introduced him to a little paper called _Society_, for which he did some drawings. But between these periods Mr. May suffered long spells of penury, when he would have been glad to have taken up his position with a handkerchief full of broken chalks and drawn on the pavement. At last a drawing of Mr. Bancroft in _Society_ brought him an introduction to Mr. Edward Russell, who introduced him to the management of the _St. Stephen's Review_. It was not then an illustrated paper, but a Christmas Number was being issued. The illustrations were already arranged for, so there was nothing for him to do. The disappointment, or long privation--for he was only eighteen at the time--or both, brought on an illness, and he returned to Leeds. A telegram from Mr. Russell brought him to London. The illustrations for the Christmas Number would not do, and Mr. May was asked to do them all himself--cartoon, illustrations, cover, and initials--in a week! He hired a room in a small hotel near the Princess's, and worked day and night, finished the whole thing, and was paid. He remained in his humble lodgings till his money was gone, and he used, as he says, to "go out for breakfast and dinner," which meant walking about for appearances' sake. The proprietor of the hotel in question, who was also a waiter at a club, found him out, and when he came home at three or four in the morning used to dig him out to share his supper; and when, through sheer shame, May confessed he could not pay him, he insisted on his remaining in his house. Mr. Brough introduced Mr. May to Alias the costumier, who engaged him as designer of the _Nell Gwynne_ dresses, and kept him on to design pictures for a book, _The Juvenile Shakespeare_, on which they were to collaborate; but it came to nothing. Then the _St. Stephen's_ started illustrations, and he was employed by it till an agent came from Australia to discover an artist for the _Sydney Bulletin_. Mr. May seized the opportunity of going to the antipodes, and went. The fine air, the warm climate, and the regular food made, as he tells you, a man of him; but it was the starvation, he adds, which made him the artist he is. The rest of Mr. Phil May's story has been told before, and is not interesting, being one long series of successes, which culminated in his winning the blue ribbon of black-and-white art, an appointment on _Punch_, which leaves him free to draw for any other paper that appreciates his art and can pay his prices.