_Punch_ was just as enthusiastic and published a long eulogy in verse, two stanzas of which I quote below:--
She has passed from us just as the goal she had sighted, From the top of the ladder reached fairly at last; With her laurels still springing, no leaf of them blighted, And a fortune:--how bright!--may be gauged by her past.
May this rhyme, kindly meant as it is, not offend her, All fragrant with flowers be the path of her life, May the joy she has given in blessings attend her, And her happiest part be the part of "The Wife."
Although I was not intended to enter the theatrical profession, the stage never failed to attract me; and once, when I was still at school, I was presented with a seat in exactly the centre of the dress circle at a theatre where Miss Bateman (who became Mrs. Crowe) was taking the part of Leah. I remember this fine actress made a great sensation, especially in one scene where she uttered a rousing curse with great declamatory power; the house was hushed with excitement and admiration; and you could have heard the proverbial pin drop, when I ... who had been playing football that morning, was suddenly seized with the most excruciating cramp; I arose ... and could not help standing up to rub away the pain in my leg, the curse then for the moment echoing throughout the audience.
Another time, somewhat later, I was again to prove a disturbing element. I was at the old Strand Theatre, in the stage box, and my host was a personal friend of Miss Florence St. John, then singing one of her most successful songs. Now I am the unfortunate possessor of a loud voice and a still louder sneeze, which latter I have never succeeded in controlling. In the middle of the song, I was overcome with an overpowering and irresistible desire to sneeze ... which I suddenly did with terrific force. Miss St. John was so disconcerted, that she stopped her song, and thinking it was a deliberate attempt at annoyance from her friend--my host--called out, "You brute!" After that, I took a back seat.
Besides visiting the theatre in my holidays, I used to go sketching into the country; and one summer my parents took an old farmhouse at Arundel. This reminds me of another unfortunate propensity of mine, and that is, to tumble whenever I get an easy opportunity. When we were inspecting the house, we discovered a curious sort of uncovered coal hole under one of the front windows, and my father jokingly remarked, "What a trap for Leslie!" Three days later, when we were settled in the house, my parents were going for a drive ... and as I waved them a farewell, which precipitately ended by my disappearing into this hole, my father's jest became a prophecy.