and religiously drops a line," during the time he is not wanted in the piece, to all those unknown "young friends" who would tempt good fortune on the stage; the sofa covered with flowered cretonne; and in close proximity to the fireplace a ricketty arm-chair in brown leather. The springs are broken, but what matter? That chair is Toole's, sir, and Royalty has occupied it many a time. Yes, nothing could be more simple than our own comedian's dressing-room. It is just a cosy parlour, and with Toole in the chair by the fire-side one would be loth to leave it.
Mr. Toole's dressing-room.
The mantel-board has a clock in the centre, an ornament or two, and a bust of the occupant in his younger days. In a corner is the veritable umbrella used in Paul Pry. What a priceless collection of theatrical reminiscences meet the eye everywhere! There is a portrait group of a company of young actors who appeared in the original production of "Dearer than Life," at the New Queen's Theatre, Long-acre—Henry Irving, Charles Wyndham, John Clayton, Lionel Brough, John L. Toole, and Miss Henrietta Hodson, who afterwards became Mrs. Labouchere. A tolerably good cast! And here are portraits of a few actors taken years ago at Ryde, Isle of Wight, showing W. Creswick in a great Inverness cape, Benjamin Webster, S. Phelps, Paul Bedford, and arising young actor who had only recently made his appearance—J. L. Toole by name.
Near a capital character sketch of Henry J. Byron, by Alfred Bryan, is an old playbill in a black ebony frame. This was the programme for one night:—
THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET.
Merchant of Venice.
The Drama in 3 Acts:
Mind Your Own Business
Keeley Worried by Buckstone.
Mr. Keeley . . . By himself.
Mr. Buckstone . . . By himself.
To conclude with the laughable farce,
The Spitalfields Weaver.
Simmons . . . Mr. John L. Toole.
(His first appearance on any stage).
Many a white satin programme is about, and the tenant of the little dressing-room of King William-street is represented in many parts. Just by the door is Mr. Liston as Paul Pry, arrayed in bottle-green coat, big beaver hat, and armed with the inevitable umbrella—"just called to ask you how your tooth was."
An excellent portrait represents John Billington as John Peerybingle in "Dot," underneath which are penned some noteworthy lines: "I don't want anybody to
