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xxii JOSEPH KNIGHT. representation until the time for him to make his way to The Daily Graphic. His daughter, or some other deputy upon whose judgment he could rely, waited in the theatre until the curtain fell, and brought on to him impressions of the closing scenes and of the demeanour of the audience which sometimes, but not often, induced him to make alterations in, or additions to, his proof.

"The critical value of his written notices was diminished somewhat by his exceeding good nature. He could not forget that the failure of a play, while a matter of merely passing interest to the public for whom he wrote, might entail serious loss and suffering to the producer and the players. I have known him to come into the office bubbling over with indignation. 'This is absolutely the worst play I have ever seen. It is an insult to offer it to the public, and I hope you will let me say so in The Daily Graphic' 'Certainly,' I would reply; 'I rely entirely upon your judgment. If the play is a bad one, say so as emphatically as you like.' I knew well that the unkindest word Joe Knight would deliberately write about the honest work, however imperfect, of any human creature would give him more pain than it would give its object. His judgment, however, was always sound. He knew not only whether a play was good or bad from the point of view of dramatic art, but whether it would satisfy the public. He would have made the fortune of any theatrical manager who could have retained him as adviser, and acted upon his advice.

"How beloved he was! One might have supposed that the younger members of the editorial staff had nothing else to do, so ready were they to wait upon him on his arrival from the theatre. They had their reward when his writing was finished and he would regale them from his store of anecdote and reminiscence.

"At one of the excellent dinners he sometimes gave at the Garrick Club, a message was brought to one of the guests I think it was Mr. Pinero who announced that Terriss the actor had just been assassinated at the entrance to his theatre. Knight was silent for many minutes, took no notice of remarks addressed to him, and seemed to be oblivious of his duties as host. Then he began in a low voice to talk his thoughts, full of appreciation of the dead man, and of sympathy for those who would suffer most severely by his loss.

"No one who was in London on the night on which the news arrived that Mafeking had been relieved can forget the astonishing swiftness with which the news spread, and how streets which a minute before had been half-empty, seemed to be instantly filled with a wildly exultant crowd. Knight was at a theatre where the news was proclaimed from the stage. There was a scene of great enthusiasm, the audience standing up, waving their handkerchiefs, and singing the National Anthem. Knight was as much pleased