I forbear to give a detail of the happy life which I led about the
skirts of the metropolis, playing at the various fairs, held there
during the latter part of spring and the beginning of summer. This
continual change from place to place, and scene to scene, fed my
imagination with novelties, and kept my spirits in a perpetual state of
excitement.

As I was tall of my age I aspired, at one time, to play heroes in
tragedy; but after two or three trials, I was pronounced, by the
manager, totally unfit for the line; and our first tragic actress, who
was a large woman, and held a small hero in abhorrence, confirmed his
decision.

The fact is, I had attempted to give point to language which had no
point, and nature to scenes which had no nature. They said I did not
fill out my characters; and they were right. The characters had all
been prepared for a different sort of man. Our tragedy hero was a
round, robustious fellow, with an amazing voice; who stamped and
slapped his breast until his wig shook again; and who roared and
bellowed out his bombast, until every phrase swelled upon the ear like
the sound of a kettle-drum. I might as well have attempted to fill out
his clothes as his characters. When we had a dialogue together, I was
nothing before him, with my slender voice and discriminating manner. I
might as well have attempted to parry a cudgel with a small sword. If
he found me in any way gaining ground upon him, he would take refuge in
his mighty voice, and throw his tones like peals of thunder at me,
until they were drowned in the still louder thunders of applause from
the audience.

To tell the truth, I suspect that I was not shown fair play, and that