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SHOWMAN
Standing in the shadows was an elegant and whiskered gentleman, just a figure in evening cape and silk hat. But Charley recognized him. "Good evening, your 'ighness," he said, "this is Mr. Corbett, the Yankee who licked me in the States." The Prince shook hands with Corbett, but, before we got into anything like a conversation, the stage-door opened, a veiled young lady floated out and took the Prince's arm, and the pair of them melted away into a waiting carriage.
We had figured that, since Corbett was Irish, and the Irish are more fight-conscious than any other nation in the world, Dublin would be a good spot for us. But the Dubliners were also discouraging. They met us at the railroad station 10,000 strong, so intent on taking the horses out of Corbett's carriage and dragging him to the hotel themselves that, by mistake, they unharnessed and dragged the carriage containing MacVeagh and Daly, who looked so big and formidable they figured one of them must be Corbett. And when it came time for the performance at the Queen's Theater the street was crowded with spectators waiting to watch the champion drive by, telling each other that he made thousands of pounds a week out of his theatrical tour. But, since none of them had the slightest intention of going inside the theater we played to twenty pounds.
We had to console ourselves for this fiasco by journeying—at our own expense— to Tuam, a little backcountry town, to give a benefit and help them raise
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