The first music-hall that I ever visited was Davie Brown’s in Dunlop Street, Glasgow. It was the house of all the talent of the town. There I first made the acquaintance of Alfred G. Vance, Arthur Lloyd, Alf Milner, and other “star” comedians. But I gained admission to that hall in an altogether different manner than one would imagine.

I went to it one night as a prospective spectator, but was refused an entrance on account of my youth. […] I deceived a friend into lending me an overcoat.  The garment was a misfit, very much so, but it served the purpose, for under cover of it I passed into the hall.

Shades of Harry Clifton! He was one of the star artistes on that occasion. How I recall his memory now – the greatest song writer of his day and generation – a man with a charming personality that will ever be remembered by those who knew him; for to know him was to love and revere him. Even now in fancy I can hear the thunders of applause that nightly greeted his singing of that immortal song of his with the well-known chorus:―

“Waste not, want not, is a motto I would teach;
Let your watchword be despatch, and practice what you preach;
Never let your chances like sunbeams pass you by,
For you’ll never miss the water till the well runs dry.”