In the Provinces.

"A wandering minstrel I."—The Mikado.

I concluded my first long engagement at the Polytechnic in the summer of 1871, and Mr. and Mrs. Howard Paul engaged me to join them for several weeks on a seaside tour. This was to me a delightful way of combining business with pleasure, and I particularly remember a delightful week at Scarborough.

I returned to the Polytechnic in the autumn, and produced "The Silver Wedding," a short easy version of which I have published. It was in this sketch I introduced "I am so Volatile," which was the first comic song I published. Applications were continually made to me from provincial institutions; but I could only accept those at a short distance from town, as my daily work at Bow Street had to be done as well. It was hard work; but I am used to hard work, and enjoy it.

All prospects of entering for the Bar disappeared, and it was my father's own suggestion that we should try an entertainment together. He was an enormous favourite in the country as a humorous reciter; and he thought my piano and songs would prove more attractive if given with him, as it might otherwise have been thought that I was starting a rival entertainment—a thought which neither of us desired to encourage.

We accordingly worked out a trial programme, and in May, 1873, we gave our joint recitals at the Masonic Hall, Birmingham. The papers of May 12th spoke most highly of the entertainment; and the result was, my father decided that in the autumn we should start together with a tour of the provincial institutions. As I previously stated, I had only visited institutions which I could conveniently reach after my daily work at Bow Street; but as I was married on May 14th, two days after the above trial trip, it became necessary for me to materially increase my income.

I was fortunate in having the permanent assistance at Bow Street of Mr. H. R. Hollingshead, son of Mr. John Hollingshead, the popular manager and author; so there was no longer a bar to a continued tour. First of all, there was my honeymoon to be spent. To take a trip abroad was quite beyond my means, and no noble Duke in those days came forward to place his country demesne at our disposal; so, amidst a shower of rice, my wife and departed for Leamington. Why Leamington? Well, I will tell you. I had received a very good offer from my friend, Mr. Wm. Southern, of that town, who though it would be a good thing for me to give a single-handed recital at the end of the fortnight I intended staying, and he would see that the interesting circumstance of my passing my honeymoon was carefully paragraphed in the papers. The result was a crowded room, and the cost of my pleasure trip materially reduced.

We visited other places, and wound up our happy month at the charming residence of one of my wife's relatives at Aigburth, near Liverpool. Here was another stroke of business on my part; for I joined forces with Mrs. Howard Paul in a combined entertainment for a week, at the Concert Hall, Bold Street, Liverpool. In the autumn, however, the tour with my father commenced. We started in Devonshire and Cornwall, the result being that I was away from home a fortnight. We usually got home on Saturdays, that being no day for the institutions. I did not at all like leaving the girl I loved behind me, and I always disliked (and suppose I always shall) travelling.

I append a programme of one of the recitals given in conjunction with my father during the season 1872-3:
BIRKBECK LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC INSTITUTION, SOUTHAMPTON BUILDINGS, CHANCERY LANE.

                      PROGRAMME
                       OF THE
         LITERARY AND MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT
                   TO BE GIVEN BY
              MESSRS. GEORGE GROSSMITH,
           ON WEDNESDAY EVENING, JUNE 9TH,
        Commencing at Half-past Eight o'clock.
PART I. MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH. GEMS FROM CHARLES DICKENS (IN MEMORIAM). Little Tony Weller and his Grandfather. Birth of the Junior Partner in the firm of "Dombey and Son"
PART II. MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH, JUN. A New Descriptive Melody, entitled— "SEVEN AGES OF SONG!" And (by request) Selections from his Humorous and Mimetical Sketch, entitled— "THE PUDDLETON PENNY READINGS."
PART III. MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH. THE HUMOUR OF MARK TWAIN. Autobiographical Reminiscences. Our first Visitor. Journalism down in Tennessee. &c., &c.
PART IV. MR. GEORGE GROSSMITH, JUN. New Musical Scena, "IN THE STALLS!"

Annual Invitation—Up to London—Lord Mayor's Show in a Fog—Stalls at the Pantomime—Science at the Polytechnic—High-class Music (never performed out of London)—"Our daily work is over."

Admission, 6d. Pit, 1s. Reserved Seats, 2s. Members free.

I also attach one of my single-handed programmes:
ALEXANDRA CLUB AND INSTITUTE, TRURO ROAD, WOOD GREEN.

R. D. M. LITTLER, ESQ., Q.C., President.

ENTERTAINMENTS FOR MEMBERS & FRIENDS.

The next of the above Entertainments will take place on
              WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1873.
           LITERARY AND MUSICAL ENTERTAINMENT
                           BY
               MR. GEO. GROSSMITH, JUN
     (Of the Royal Polytechnic, London Concerts, &c.)

                       PROGRAMME.
Original Colloquial and Pianoforte Sketch, entitled—
                  "OUR CHORAL SOCIETY."
Musical Movement in Moreton-super-Mire—Great Excitement, Local and
Vocal—Moreton acquires a Choir—Formation of the Society—The
pleasure of Singing (and the pain of Listening)—The Patroness, Lady
Alum Gargle—Her Harmonic Triumphs, past and present—The Society
gets up a Public Bawl for the benefit of a Private Charity—A Polite
Conductor—Mr. G. Sharp composes a new Cantata, "The Penitent
Pilgrim"—The Pilgrim undergoes a trying Rehearsal—The
Concert!— Marvellous effect of an indistinct "Reapers'
Chorus"—Breathless effect of the long runs—The Secular
Music—Pianoforte Solo by Miss Spikes—Manufacture of Italian
Songs—Grand Finale, "Lightly Tripping o'er the Hills," by Mr. and
Mrs. Hoggsedd.

                        READINGS.
        THE "CORONER'S INQUEST," by THOMAS HOOD,
And an original, humorous narrative (after ARTHUR SKETCHLEY),
entitled
         "MRS. BROWN on the SHAKSPERIAN DRAMA."
OLD SONG … … "My Dejeuner a la Fourchette" … … JOHN PARRY
To conclude with a New Musical and Whimsical Fancy, entitled,
               "JOTTINGS FROM THE JETTY."

         To commence at Eight o'clock precisely.
Tickets (Non-members), 6d. Reserved Seats, 1s. 6d.
May be obtained at the POST OFFICE, Wood Green; BARKER'S LIBRARY,
Commercial Road; and at the CLUB ROOM, Truro Road.

                      MEMBERS FREE,
Who may also obtain one Lady's Ticket for Sixpence on application to
the Manager at the Club only.
                             F. WOOD,
                             G. DEMANT, Hon. Secs.

These years of tearing about all over the United Kingdom were more or less amusing—"generally less," as H. J. Byron observed. The visits with my father were the most varied. With Mrs. Howard Paul or Miss Marryat, costumes were introduced, and the entertainment appealed to a broader section of the public. When with my father, the entertainment was patronised by the more serious section of the public. He would be giving recitals from Pickwick and David Copperfield, with my comic songs and sketches alternating, on a small platform with four or five clergymen seated thereon, they being perhaps the Committee. I always got on very well with the clergy; in fact, I have always regarded myself as a species of religious comic singer. After the recitals the Committee would follow us into the ante-room; four would engage my attention, while the fifth—generally a young curate—would surreptitiously slip the fee into my father's hand. I remember him once upsetting the solemnity of this "settling-up" proceeding by exclaiming loudly, "I am not ashamed of being paid. You need not hand me the fee as if it were an election bribe."

My father had frequently suggested that the moment I arrived in a town I should look through the local papers, for the purpose of introducing some special topics that would come home to that particular place in the course of my sketches, which easily admitted of ad libitum observations. I always intended doing it, knowing how well local topics are received; but, somehow or other, I kept forgetting to carry out my intention.

One night, however, a splendid opportunity presented itself. It was some place in the Midland Counties, and an Alderman, whom we will call Juggins, had got into terrible hot water through proposing to have removed from the middle of the main thoroughfare an old stone pump. The local papers devoted columns to the controversy. Half the townspeople held that the pump was sacred to them—it was a monument, an ancient landmark, it was everything useful and ornamental. The other half disagreed. The only opinion in which the townspeople were unanimous was that, whether right or wrong, Alderman Juggins had nothing to do with it, and that he was simply advertising himself.

The evening arrived, and the hall was full. My father occupied the first half-hour, commencing at eight, with a selection from Adam Bede. I arrived at half-past eight, and in five minutes stepped on the platform, and commenced with my old sketch, "The Silver Wedding." The sketch concludes with a description of the supper, and the toasts proposed in honour of Mr. and Mrs. Alphonzo de Brown's silver wedding, &c., &c., with the responses. In the imitation of an old friend of the family, I spoke as nearly as I can recollect, as follows: "We all congratulate our dear host and hostess on having arrived at this important epoch in their lives, and the occasion has created even more sensation than that created by Alderman Juggins's pump." I waited for the tremendous roar of laughter and applause that would surely follow this remark. To my intense surprise, there was not the ghost of a laugh. It could only be accounted for in one way—I had evidently dropped my voice, and the "gag" had consequently missed its mark. I would try again.

I proceeded with the supposed old gentleman's speech, and concluded thus: "We will drink the toast upstanding all, with three times three; we will drink it in bumpers—we will drink it with wine, good wine, such as only our host can give—wine that has not been diluted by the product of Alderman Juggins's pump." This time I shouted the last sentence, so that there should be no mistake about their hearing it. To my horror, not a smile. Something was wrong! Perhaps the observation was out of place in the old gentleman's speech.

I would not be beaten; so I determined to give it another chance in the comic man's speech. I rattled off the following nonsense in the character of the humorous gentleman: "Well, in returning thanks for the ladies, I may say I am very fond of them"—(laughter)—"and I think I may also say that they are very fond of me." (Roars of laughter.) "My only regret is, that I am not in a position to marry all the dear ladies who are round this festive board to-night." (Continued hearty laughter, an elderly lady and a curate in the front now nearly going into hysterics. Some people, fortunately, are easily pleased.) "Bless the ladies! If I thought I had ever done a single act to incur their displeasure, I would immediately go out of the house and drown myself in Alderman Juggins's pump!"

The effect was electrical. The enthusiastic audience immediately became depressed, and someone at the back of the hall shouted, "Ha' done with that pump, lad—we've had enough of it!"

My heart sank into my boots, and I could scarcely sing the song, "I am so Volatile," which usually concluded the sketch. I retired to the ante-room, and instantly attacked my father. I said, "Well, I have taken your advice, and introduced a topic, with the result that it was a dead failure. I shall take good care never to repeat the experiment."

My father said, "Topic? What topic?"

"Why," I responded, "I made several allusions to the Juggins's pump discussion, with the result that I made a complete ass of myself."

My father burst out laughing, and said, "I don't wonder at it. Didn't you hear me do it? Why, I worked it up all through the first part."

"But," I argued, "how could you do that? You were reciting Adam
Bede."

"I know I was," he answered. "I kept bringing Alderman Juggins's pump in Mrs. Poyser's remarks, and it went enormously."

I do not know what the feelings of the audience were, but I leave the reader to imagine mine.

Country audiences are certainly most enthusiastic and delightful to entertain. Of course there are exceptions, and the following is an amusing one:

We were at some little hall in the country, and when my father concluded the first portion of the entertainment he said to the chairman, who followed him into the ante-room:

"The audience seem most enthusiastic."

The Chairman replied: "Do you think so, Mr. Grossmith? Why, I thought they were exceptionally apathetic."

My father replied: "Well, I thought they were, if anything, too enthusiastic; for they were knocking their umbrellas and sticks, without cessation, on the ground all the time."

Chairman replied, languidly: "Oh, that wasn't applause. You see, our post-office is at other end of the room, and they are simply stamping the letters for the up mail."

The usual fee at the institutions was five guineas. There were a few that could afford more; but against this there was a good fifty per cent. of institutions that begged of the lecturers to knock off a guinea or two. Some were not quite so exacting, and begged that only the "shillings" might be deducted.

My father used to relate an amusing adventure he had experienced concerning the reduction of fees. At some out-of-the-way spot in Scotland he was met on the railway platform by a deputation of old gentlemen, who conducted him to his hotel. At twenty minutes to eight o'clock this Scotch deputation came to hotel and conducted him to the lecture-hall. After the lecture, the same elderly deputation conducted him back to the hotel. The next morning, having ascertained the hour at which he meditated departing, the deputation turned up again, and conducted him back to station. On the platform the elder man of the deputation, addressing my father, said:

"You'll be sorry to hear that we find, on making up the accounts, we are exactly ￡1 14s. 6d. out of pocket by your lecture. We thought you would not like to leave the town with that upon your mind; and so we give you the opportunity of returning the deficit, and enabling you, with a clear conscience, to say we have not lost by your visit."

My father, in telling this story, used to add: "I told the deputation it was most kind of them to afford me the opportunity, and I certainly would carefully consider the matter. I kept my word; for, although that occurred ten years ago, I have been carefully considering it ever since."

When my father and I appeared together, a double fee was demanded; but this was sometimes alleviated on the "reduction-on-taking-a-quantity" principle. Some institutions could not engage us; and assuming always that these could stand the entertainment, but not the fee, we used to part for a night or two and go our divers ways, and join forces again at the next town where both were engaged. The lecture season used to last about seven months. We had to pay our own railway fares and hotel bills, of course; but as we travelled third, and lived very moderately, the expenses were not great.

Then my father, being so popular socially, was nearly always entertained, and, for his sake, the hospitality was frequently extended to me; and I take this opportunity to express my gratitude to the many strangers in the country who have offered me a home, made me very comfortable, and saved me an hotel bill. After the lectures we often were taken home to supper, and some of the audience or friends of the host asked to meet us, and my father used to keep the whole table in a roar. It was, of course, on account of his popularity that on arriving in a town there was a little rush to secure us as guests. Sometimes there was a rush in the opposite direction; but hospitality generally held the sway. The Secretaries used to write:

"Dear Sir,—Mr. Blank, our Mayor, desires honour of entertaining you. Personally I am sorry, for I had hoped to have entertained you myself.

"Yours, &c., &c."

Precedence was always given to the Mayor, and very jolly fellows the provincial Mayors are. In one town I was always "roofed" by the Mayor—the same Mayor. As far as I can say, he always had been elected Mayor, and always would be. It appears that there sometimes is a great difficulty in persuading anybody to be the Mayor. Certainly there is no eagerness displayed in some towns to secure that official position. The Librarian of a town, who was selling tickets for my entertainment, said:

"Our Mayor, Mr. Z——, who entertains you here, Mr. Grossmith, has made himself so popular by his liberality that we shall elect him again next year. The last Mayor never spent a single penny of the allowance made him."

"How much does a Mayor get here?" I asked.

"Ten pounds," said the Librarian, "and Mr. Z—— has spent nearly the whole of it on banquets, &c."

I have frequently been asked, in reference to the long runs at the Savoy Theatre, if I have not derived some interest from the change of audiences. It appears to me that the audiences at the Savoy are always the same, except in numbers. The house may not be so full, and the enthusiasm may vary; but in all other respects they are the same. When I give my entertainments at the Savoy, the same points tell, and the laughter and applause come in exactly the same places. In the country I never quite knew what would take. I am speaking of the general patter.

Things that missed fire in London went enormously in the country; but I am bound to say that, taken altogether, I have been much flattered by the gracious way in which my sketches have been received in all places and by all kinds of people. I have experienced extraordinary changes in the style of audience. I gave the same selection in the drawing-room of the Duchess of St. Albans, before T.R.H. the Prince and Princess of Wales and about two dozen other distinguished ladies and gentlemen, in March, 1874, that I gave, a few days after, at Falkirk, to about 1,500 enthusiastic Scotch people, the greater part of whom had paid the admission charge of one penny. The selection included my sketches of Amateur Theatricals, a Christmas Pantomime, the Penny Readings, &c.

I have not often been interrupted in public rooms. In private, I have by people talking. But whenever I am interrupted, I make a point of remonstrating. I do not adopt this course for the mere sake of what is vulgarly called "side," or "swagger," but because my nerve absolutely fails me if I become distracted. The moment I become nervous, I am, so to speak, wrecked.

I feel a little diffident in telling the following story, inasmuch as it shows myself to advantage. I was giving an entertainment at Greenwich with Mrs. Howard Paul. I was singing a song called "Awfully Lively," in character, accompanied by Miss Blanche Navarre, the singer, who remembers the incident well, when I was much put out by a "funny man" in the back seats, which were very high up, I being on a platform low down, as if in a well. He commenced with a comic laugh in the wrong place. The audience tittered audibly. A little later on he interrupted with a comic cough. The audience laughed outright, and so they did again with increased vigour when he subsequently indulged in a comic sneeze. I determined to no notice of it, thinking he would get tired. Not a bit of it. He next treated me to a comic remark which completely put me off, and I broke down in the middle of my song. Quietly addressing the audience, I said: "Ladies and Gentlemen,—There are two comic gentlemen here to-night, and you cannot very well hear both at the same time. It would be extremely selfish on my part were I to entirely monopolise the platform to the exclusion of the other comic gentleman; therefore, with your kind permission, I will retire for a short time, and give him the opportunity of coming down here and giving his entertainment. When he has finished, I will resume."

I then retired from the platform, but listened at the door to hear what was going on. I heard cries of "Go down!" "Sing a song!" amid laughter and applause. But being funny in an audience and being funny on a platform are two distinct things; and the difference was evidently appreciated by the other comic gentleman, who absolutely declined to accept the invitation to "go down" or to "sing a song." I then heard my own name called repeatedly, so I returned to the platform and met with a good reception. When silence reigned, and as I perceived good humour prevailed, I said: "The other comic gentleman having exhausted his stock of humour, I will proceed with mine." This was received with cheers, and subsequently all was peace.

I was obliged to resign a proposed prolonged engagement with Mrs. Howard Paul; for her tours would take her away from London months at a time, while the entertainment with my father always brought me home on Saturday night, and sometimes would allow of my being weeks in London at a time: so from 1873 till 1876 I visited the institutions with him when possible, and by myself when not.

Sometimes I used to make my single-handed engagements fit in capitally—sometimes I did not. To fill up five consecutive days in Yorkshire, including the institutions at Leeds and Bradford, who always paid the full fee, with a request that I should visit them again the following season, was most satisfactory.

But such a happy state of things could not always be arranged. The usual course was this: The first good offers that came in were "booked" immediately, no matter what part of the United Kingdom they came from. The next applications had to be fitted in. Sometimes I managed to fit in, say, Monday, Wednesday, a............