82 CANADIAN TURF RECOLLECTIONS 



I have often told how awfully fond poor Coleman was 

 of playing practical jokes, and one of his that I remember 

 is good enough to bear repetition. While on a visit to 

 Toronto he dropped in one morning about eleven o 'clock 

 at Kerby's saloon in the Romaine Buildings on King 

 street. This was then quite a resort for theatrical peo- 

 ple, and at different times my old friend had been intro- 

 duced to members of the ' ' prof esh. ' ' One of those he had 

 met was poor old Spackman, the leading man at the 

 Royal Lyceum. On this particular morning there was a 

 rehearsal of some kind of a melodrama in which the 

 ballet dancers were a prominent feature, and as it was 

 only a few steps from the back door of the saloon, Kerby 

 suggested that Coleman should go to the greenroom and 

 see ' ' Spack. ' ' Doc considered for a bit, and then, asking 

 his friend to wait for him a moment, hurried out to a 

 nearby tailor shop, almost immediately returning dressed 

 in a long black clerical coat, with a white choker strictly 

 churchy in its style and a clerical black felt hat. Even 

 Kerby, who knew him so well, was staggered when he first 

 saw him, so thoroughly did he look the part. Introduc- 

 ing himself as the Reverend Mr. Cole, a clerical who was 

 anxious to learn a little about the theatre and theatrical 

 people, that he might not do either an injustice in ser- 

 mons he proposed to preach on the modern drama, he 

 put himself under Kerby's charge and was taken to the 

 theatre, brought round behind the curtain and there 

 introduced to ' ' Spack. " as a minister, anxious to see for 

 himself the people he had heard so many naughty things 

 about. 



Poor Spack, who was the soul of good nature, often 

 told me of the nervous half hour he had of it. A couple 

 of the girls, the high kickers of the ballet party, he said 

 were particularly larky that morning, one of these having 

 kicked his hat off while he was adjusting the ducal robes 

 around his portly person, and the way the same little 

 flirt was eyeing the parson he was satisfied she was only 

 waiting a chance to dust his eyebrows for him. Hur- 

 riedly excusing himself for a moment, he called the girls 



