The Diary of a Nobody

le evening at the Tank Theatre. Experimentswith enamel paint. I make another good joke; but

ne trade. Gowing also called. Mr. Merton madehimself at home at once, and Carrie an

stand me. I intended to convey that our charming hostand hostess were superior to the follies of fashion, and preferred leading asimple and wholesome life to gadding about to twopenny-halfpenny tea-drinking afternoons, and living above their incomes."I was immensely pleased with these sensible remarks of Merton

apply that to wine, 'Littl

treat me as a friend, and put me down for adozen of his "Lockanbar" whisky, and as I was an o

time I wanted any passes for the theatre I was to let hi

e up from Sutton for afew days, it would look kind to take them to the theatre, and would I dropa line to Mr. Merton a

passes for the Italian Opera, Haymarket, Savoy,or Lyceum, but the best thing going on in London was

ank Theatre. We got a 'bus thattook us to King's Cross, and then changed into one that took us to the"Angel."

xcept an old woman with a basket seemed to be going in. I walkedahea

know anything about thes

to, came up and examine

nantly: "Mr. Merton, ofcourse." He said: "Me

. These tickets, which arenot dated, were issued under Mr. Swinstead's management, which hassince changed hands." W

umiliation. I was leaning out of the box, when my tie - a little black bow which fastened on to the stud by means ofa new patent - fell into the pit below. A clumsy man not noticing it, hadhis foot on it for ever so long before he discovered it. He then picked itup and eventually flung it under the next sea

keep my chin down the rest ofthe evening,

ured, and such a poor play too. I wrote a very satirical letter toMerton, the wine merchant, who gave us the pass, and said, "Consideringwe had to pay for our seats, we did our best to appreciate theperformance." I

ed through tea,went into the garden and painted some flower-pots. I called out Carrie,who said: "You've always got some newfangled craze;" but she wasobliged to admit that the flower-pots looked remarkably well. Wentupstairs into the servant's bedroom and painted her washstand, towel-horse,and chest of drawers. To my mind it was an extraordinary improvement,but as an example of

he bath red, and was de

It's merely a matter of taste."Fortunately, further argument on the subject was stopped by a voicesaying, "May I come in?" It was only Cummings, who said, "Your maidopened the door, and a

edly)replied: "Funny as usual." He said he couldn't stop, he o

funny, as usual," said Cummings. "Yes," I replied; "I thinkeven you will say so this time. It's concerning you both; for doesn't itseem odd that Gowing's always coming and Cummings' always going?"Carrie, who

I SHALL be going, and I amsorry I fail to see the fun of your jokes." Gowing said he didn't mind ajoke when it wasn't rude, but a pun on a name, to his thinking, wascertainly a little wanting in good taste. Cummings followed it up bysaying, if it had

ly and in a most gentlemanly fashion. I wasunfeignedly pleased to notice this improvement in his manner towards me,and told him I would look over his unpunctuality. Passing down theroom an hour later. I received a smart smack in the

touching up the fender, picture-frames, and an oldpair of boots, making them look as good a

ult of my having spent the last fewdays with my nose over a paint-pot. I told her firmly that I knew a greatdeal better what was the matter with me than she did. I had got a chill

, full of blood. My firstthought was that I had ruptured an artery, and was bleeding to death, andshould be discovered, later on, looking like a second Marat, as I rememberseeing him in Mada

ansI have seen depicted at an East-End theatre. I determined not to say awor