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as a multiform actor, a dramatic chameleon, “ Our new play will be a great go !” a compelled by the special nature of his oc- promoted "super" once observed to certain cupation, or rather by its lack of special of his fellows. “I play a policeman! I nature, to appear young or old, crooked or go on in the last scene, and handcuff Mr. straight, noble or base-born, savage or Rant. I have to say, 'Murder's the civilized, according to the good pleasure of charge! Stand back! Won't that fetch the dramatist. “Thus, when Tancred de- the house?” claims, Toi superbe Orbassan, c'est toi que There are soldiers doomed to perish in je défie!' and Hings his gauntlet upon the their first battle. And there have been stage, Orbassan has but to wave his hand “supers” who have failed to justify their adand an attendant advances boldly, stoops, vancement, and silenced forever have had to picks up the
gage of battle, and resumes his fall back into the ranks again. The French former position. That is thought to be stage has a story of a figurant who ruined a very simple duty. But to accomplish it at once a new tragedy and his own prowithout provoking the mirth of the audi- spects by an unhappy lapsus linguæ, the ence is le sublime du métier—le triomphe result of undue haste and nervous excitede l'art !"
ment. He had but to cry, aloud, in the The emotions of an author who for the crisis of the drama: “Le roi se meurt !” first time sees himself in print, have often He was perfect at rehearsal ; he earned been descanted upon. The sensations of a the applause even of the author. A bril“super,” raised from the ranks, intrusted liant future, as he deemed, was open to with the utterance of a few words, and him. But at night he could only utter, in enabled to read the entry of his own name broken tones, “ Le meurt se roi !" and the in the playbills, are scarcely less entitled tragic situation was dissolved in laughter. to sympathy. His task may be slight So, in our own theatre, there is the esenough, the measure of speech permitted tablished legend of Delpini, the Italian him most limited; the reference to him in clown, who, charged to exclaim at a critical the programmes may simply run-- moment, Pluck them asunder !” could
produce no more intelligible speech than CHARLES (a waiter) . . Mr. JONES;
Massonder em plocket!” Much mirth in
the house and dismay on the stage ensued. RAILWAY PORTER ... Mr. BROWN;
But Delpini had gained his object. He
had become qualified as an actor to particibut the delight of the performer is infinite. pate in the benefits of the Theatrical Fund. His promotion is indeed of a prodigious As a mere pantomimist he was without a kind. Hitherto but a lay-figure, he is now title. But John Kemble had kindly furthered endowed with life. He has become an the claim of the foreign clown by intrusting actor! The world is at length informed him for once with “a speaking part.” The of his existence. He has emerged from tragedian, however, had been quite unprethe crowd, and though it may be but for a pared for the misadventure that was to moment, can assert his individuality. He result. carries his part about with him every- Delpini was,
doomed to morwhere—it is but a slip of paper with tification in regard to his attempts at one line of writing running across it. He English speech upon the stage. He was exhibits it boastfully to his friends. He engaged as clown at the East London, or reads it again and again ; recites it in Royalty Theatre, in Goodman's Fields, at every tone of voice he can command- a time when that establishment was withpractises his elocutionary powers upon out a license for dramatic performances, every possible occasion. A Parisian figu- and was incurring the bitter hostility of rant, advanced to the position of accessoire, the patent managers. It was understood, was so elated that he is said to have ex- however, that musical and pantomimic enpressed surprise that the people he met tertainments could lawfully be presented. in the streets did not bow to him; that the But the unhappy clown, in the course of a sentinels on guard did not present arms as harlequinade, had ventured to utter the he passed. His reverence for the author simple words, “Roast Beef !” and forthwith in whose play he is to appear is boundless; he was prosecuted and sent to prison as a he regards him as a second Shakespeare, if rogue and a vagabond. For a time he seems not something more. His devotion to the to have been even reduced to prison fare. manager, who has given him the part, for His case is referred to in a prologue written a time approaches deliriousness.
by Miles Peter Andrews, and delivered upon
in this spot, and there was also a ceaseless bound to get my will whosomedever lends sound of disturbance, for the roar of sway- me a hand.” ing miles of wood surged above and below “Come,” said Katherine, "this is interest. in continual thunder. Even the mildest airs ing. My dear wise woman, I thank you of heaven seemed to have secret stings, for your compliments, and I am delighted which goaded the Tobereevil Woods un- to make your acquaintance. You thought ceasingly into motion and sound. The dark. you had something good, and you find you ness and confusion were very awful in this have something naughty ; so you become solitary dungeon which the trees had made quite friendly and tell me your secrets. for themselves. It seemed like a meeting. Nothing could please me more. It gives me place for evil spirits. Katherine approved intense pleasure to meet with people who of it, and, in order to enjoy herself, took intend to have their will.
And who is your her seat on a fallen trunk over which she boy Con-and what is he to Simon ?" had stumbled.
She knew the story well, but chose to
hear it from Tibbie. CHAPTER XXX. TWO CONGENIAL SOULS.
“He's my sister's own son, an' Simon's KATHERINE had not been long in this nephew,” she said. “An' I've swore an oath uncomfortable spot when she heard a sound on my knees that he shall be master o' which, fearless as she was, caused her a Tobeerevil. There was a will that was momentary shock. To hear a footstep in nearly signed whin Paul Finiston he cat such a place was startling. Yet there was in an' turned us out o' doors. I've been a crackling of the underwood to be de- years starvin' yonder wid the black-beetles tected through, or rather on the surface of, an' the rats ; an' I'm bound to have my the roar of the woods. Her eyes, being reward. I'll get back to his kitchen, an' now used to the darkness, distinguished the I'll put my boy into Paul's shoes. I've outline of a woman's form, which was grop- been begging on the hills, but it's little I'll ing its way amongst the bushes. Presently think o' that when I've the money-bagsin my a scream from the new-comer announced clutches, an' I'm come this ways through the fear at the glimmer of Miss Archbold's woods in hopes o' meetin' somethin' wicked white furs. The figure fell and cowered that 'd help me. There do be devils an' on the ground, and Katherine amused her bad spirits always livin' in the threes—I'm self for some minutes with the terror of not afraid o' them if they'd give me a han'. this unknown and silly wretch. Then she But I'm mortial feared o' the angels, for touched the prostrate body with the toe of they might keep me from my will." her little boot.
Katherine looked at the creature with up quickly," she said, “whoever admiration. Where in all the land could
she meet with anything so congenial as The creature, an old woman, revived at this hag, who had thus avowed a purpose the human voice, and gathered herself which had made them enemies at once ? grotesquely into a sitting posture. They “For I” thought Katherine, “bave de could see each other now, however dimly. termined that Paul Finiston shall be master Katherine looked like some beautiful fairy, of Tobereevil, and I am resolved to have who had chosen for no good end to pay a my will. And this creature is also bent visit to this spot; the other like some witch upon forcing fate, so that her Con shall in her familiar haunt. For the old woman take his place. Yet we shall be friends, was ugly, and she was weird. In short, in spite of this little difference.”. she was Tibbie.
My dear soul," said she, “ sit down on “I know ye now!" she cried, “I know this stump and tell me all about it. I am
Ye're Sir John Archbold's anxious to hear your plans. What do you daughter from beyant the mountain. Many mean to do in order to ruin Paul Finiston ?" a time I have heard o' the beauty o' yer
“I would not tell you,” said Tibbie, face, an' the hardness o'
heart. I know only that I know you are hard-hearted. ye by yer hair, for though my eyes is not If I thought you soft an' good, I wouldn't good, I can see the glint o't. I took ye open my lips to ye, not if ye prayed me on for an angel, an' I'm not good company for yer knees. For Paul Finiston's the sort the angels—not till my boy Con's some that women likes.” way settled to his property. When Simon “But he is a fool,” said Katherine, “an gives him his rights, then I'll set my mind impostor, and a beggar, who must
be to goodness; but people can't get their wills turned by the shoulders out of the country, wid the grace o' God about them. An'I'm Tibbie crowed, and clapped her hands
you may be !
with delight. Oh, musha !” she cried; where it'll be found. I'll get somebody to "you have the party tongue in your head. pluck it for me that'll not know the harm.
How do you mean to do it ?" asked For I tell ye that I am bound to get my Katherine. “Don't be afraid to tell me, for will." there is no one within miles of us. Shall Katherine stood looking on, while the old you give him a taste of nightshade, or a creature thus bemoaned herself. little hemlock-tea ?”
“ There, now,” she said, presently, “ do "No," said Tibbie, doubtfully, as if the not cry any more. I have a mandrake idea had not startled her, but was familiar myself, and I will give it to you. It will to her mind. “I have thought o' that, an' be no loss to me, for I have everything I thought o't, an' I'll thry another way. I'll want. I like meeting with difficulties, for do it by a charm. An' that's what brought I have power within myself to break them me here to-day. There's roots that does down. If you like to have the mandrake, be growin' in divils' places like this, an' if I will give it to you.” ye can catch them, an' keep them, ye may “Like it !" cried Tibbie. “Is it would do anything ye like."
I like it, she says ? Oh, wirra, wirra ! "Roots !” said Katherine. “ And what isn't her ladyship gone mad ?
Like to do you do with them ?”
have the mandrake! Like to get my will ! “Some needs wan doin', an' some an- An' they said ye were hard-hearted. Then other," said Tibbie. “The best of all is a it's soft-hearted ye are, an' I was a fool to mandhrake, for that's a divil in itsel. It be talkin' to ye. Give away yer luck to looks like a little man, and ye hang it up wan like me! If I had it I'd see ye die in a corner, where it can see ye walkin' afore I'd give it to ye.” abont.
So long as you threat it well "Oh, very well," said Katherine, turnit'll bring ye the luck o' the world.
I ing away.
“Of course, if you don't want go sarchin' through every bad place in the it, I can give it to some one else.” soods, and on the mountains, turnin' up the Tibbie uttered a cry.
She fell on th stones, and glowerin' under the bushes, ground, and laid hold of Katherine's gown. hopin' to find a mandhrake that'll do my Ladyship, ladyship!” she said. “I will
. If I can find him, oh, honey! won't meant no harm. It's on'y amazed I was, I make my own o' the miser? I'll make an' I ax yer honour's pardon. Give me the keys dance out o' his pockets, and up the mandhrake, an' ye may put yer foot the money-bags dance out o' the holes on me, an' walk on me. I'll do anythin' he has hid them in, an' the goold jump out in the world for ye when I have a divil to o' the bags into Tibbie's pockets. I'll do my will. Ladyship, ladyship, give me make him burn the will that has Paul in it, the mandhrake !" an' write out another that'll put Con in his “There, then," said Katherine, "I proplace. I'll have all my own way; an' the mise that you shall have it; and if ever I ould villain may break his heart and die should want anything of you I expect you widout me needin' to lift a hand against to be friendly. Stay, there is one thing 1 him."
should like-to see the house of Tobereevil. *Capital,” cried Katherine ; " but where Bring me there, now, and
shall have will you find the mandrake? Are you the mandrake to-morrow. I don't want to sure that it grows in this country at all ? see the miser; only his den.” And suppose it does, don't
know that “Well,” said Tibbie, who had now got to suit your purpose it must spring from a on her feet, and recovered her self-possesmurderer's grave? Then, even when it is sion, “ if
can creep, an' hould yer found, there is danger in getting possession tongue, an' if yer shoes don't squeak, I'll of it. It screams when its root is torn take ye through the place. There's little from the earth, and the shriek kills the worth seein' for a lady like yersel, but person who plucks it.”
come wid me if you like it. On'y don't Tibbie's face fell as she listened. “You're blame Tibbie if Simon finds ye out. larnder nor me,” she said.
“Leave that to me,” said Katherine, “I'm tellin' me the thruth?”
not afraid of Simon.” "Certainly, the truth," said Katherine. Tibbie clasped her hands and rocked Tibbie lifted up her voice and howled herself with delight. " That's the manwith disappointment. “Everythin's agin dhrake," she muttered. “There's nobody me,” she said, rocking herself dismally can gainsay her wid the mandhrake undher “But I'm not goin' to be baffled. I'll her thumb; an to-morrow it'll be Tibbie's." cross the says if ye'll tell me the counthry So these new friends set to work to
6 An' are ye
the occasion of a benefit, when the per still less that the whole band might adopt formances not being for “gain, hire, or re- it. But this had happened. For the ward,” were held to be permissible. The future their gans were given them loaded. address was a kind of dialogue, spoken by Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Gibbs, in the cha
LOST HOURS. racters of Melpomene and Thalia.
It was a mournful watch she kept,
In the soundless winter night,
And the pitiless stars shone bright;
And, what had they left at last!
And she cried, as she thought of her drooping flowers, The informing carpenter of Drury Lane ;
Her bafled hopes and her failing powers: Danger so dire it staggers all belief,
“Oh my lost hours !" Water and bread, for calling out · Roast Beef!""
What a harvest might have been garnered in, It used to be said that at the Parisian What a nectar of life it was hers to win,
When the golden grain was wasted! Cirque, once famous for its battle pieces, When the draught was barely tasted! refractory “supers” were always punished What happy memories might have shone, by being required to represent “the enemy” What noble heights to rest upon, of the evening: the Russians, Prussians, If a steadier foot had gained them! English, or Arabs, as the case might be And she cried as she sat mid her faded flowers,
“Rashness and weakness bring fatal dowers; who were to be overcome by the victorious. Oh my lost hours!" soldiers of France-repulsed at the point of Too late for battle, too late for fame, the bayonet, trampled upon and routed in a Comes the vision of better life. variety of ignominious ways. The repre
With eyes that are burning with tears of shame sentatives of “the enemy” complained The patient love cannot pardon now,
She looks on the world's keen strife; that they could not endure to be hopelessly Or the fond believing cheer. beaten night after night. Their expostu- Where the white cross stands and the violets blow,
Lie the loved that made life so dear. lation was unpatriotic; but it was natural. Kind nature renews her perished flowers, For "supers” have their feelings, moral But death recks nothing of sun or showers ; as well as physical. At one of our own
Ah, for lost hours ! theatres a ronlette table was introduced in a scene portraying the salon at Homburg, or Baden-Baden. Certain of the “supers'
AMONG THE MARKETS. petitioned that they should not always
PART I. appear as the losing gamesters. They THANKS to the wholesale demolition of desired sometimes to figure among the ancient slums, Smithfield, or Smoothfield, winners. It need hardly be said that the the ancient "campus planus,” is no longer money that changed hands upon the occa- difficult of access. The narrow streets and sion was only of that valueless kind that tortuous approaches, once made dangerous has no sort of currency off the stage. to life and limb by countless herds of over
When “supers" appear as modern driven cattle, have disappeared, leaving in soldiers in action, it is found advisable their place broad roadways and open spaces to load their guns for them. They fear to be let for building purposes, at prices the “kick” of their weapons, and will, if which would make even the fortunate possible, avoid firing them. Once in a shoddy aristocrats of Fifth Avenue stare military play a troop of grenadiers were with amazement. The old streets and required to fire a volley. Their officer time-honoured landmarks have been swept waved his sword and gave the word of away, and the fine old English cattle-dealer, command superbly; but no sound followed, with mouth full of strange oaths and greasy save only that of the snapping of locks. pocket well lined with oleaginous country Not a gun had been loaded. An unfor- notes, has disappeared from the ancient tunate unanimity had prevailed among the field. grenadiers. Each had forborne to load his The cattle-pens are gone, and the poor weapon, trusting that his omission would goaded oxen and worried sheep have beescape notice in the general noise, and as- taken themselves to Islington. Often have sured that a shot more or less could be of I wondered what became of the sorry hacks little consequence. It had occurred to no formerly sold in Smithfield. What could one of them that his scheme might be put those poor wall-eyed, wind-galled, spainto operation by others beside himself-vined, foundered, staggery bags of bones
IN TWO PARTS.
be good for? For the knacker's yard ? Slopes of Victoria Regina.
With light, Not always. Fate was not always so kind springy step, he daintily trod the “Seveto these poor played-out Bucephali, but rals
Limekilns,” or, with thungranted them a short respite from the dering hoof, spurned the broad green tanner, the glue-maker, and the cat’s-meat ribbon of the Rowley Mile. man, only that the last glimmering of At last came the great day when Dogvitality might be driven out of their stealer (by Birdcatcher-Nancy) was to wretched carcasses—that they might lite prove his mettle, and carry the fortunes of rally die in harness. Living, some few that ignoble Cæsar, his owner, to victory. years ago, about ten miles from London, The vast Roodee was crammed with eager it was my luck to be driven on a four-horse spectators, the walls of ancient Chester omnibus every morning to the City by an covered with anxious bettors clinging like exceedingly flashy driver. Tommy Ames flies on the steep sides of the natural amphiwas a great artist in his walk, or rather theatre. The favourite was the cynosure drive of life; not a gentleman coachman, of all eyes, the observed of all, as, steered lifting the ribbons nearly over his head at by a tiny miniature man in shining satin, a pull-up, but a thorough workman, keep- he took his preliminary canter. The hour ing each individual animal up to collar, had come, and the horse; the flag fell, and taking every ounce out of his team. and Dogstealer made short work of his His omnibus was the shabbiest, his harness numerous opponents. Bearing his colours the seediest, his horses the most woebegone gallantly to the fore, he came away at the “hair trunks on the road, but his pace distance, and amid shouts of " The favourite was undeniable, beating out of sight the walks in,” passed the post, the winner of neat vehicles and well-fed animals of the the Chester « Coop." He was a proud opposition. Much as I relished the pace, horse that day. Eyes hitherto blinded by I could not help pitying the poor over- prejudice or hoodwinked by antagonism worked beasts, and one day could not suddenly opened to his good points. Perrefrain from asking Tommy if his horses sistent detractors who had denounced him never got any rest.
as a fiddle-headed, slack-ribbed brute, with “Rest,” he answered, coolly, “my 'osses "too much daylight under him," sorrowrest when they're dead. You see, sir, I fully confessed him a veritable "clinker.” buy 'em at Smiffle, two pun ten a head Bright eyes looked lovingly upon him, and all round, and sell 'em dead for a sov. small white plump hands-long to be They mostly last from six weeks to two gloved with the proceeds of his victorymonths, so my 'osses don't take much out applauded him enthusiastically. Flushed of me. In course I picks them as has a with victory, his owner-with whom it bit o' blood in 'em, and I looks out for a had been a case of “ man or mouse" that wicious heye; I likes a wicious heye, I do. day-led the beautiful animal in to weigh; A 'oss as has wice in him has go in him, the tidings of Dogstealer's feat sped far and safe as the Bank; and temper or no temper, near, while his lucky backers rubbed their let me alone for putting 'em along." And hands amid the ominous silence of the the heartless Automedon put them along ring, and drank Dogstealer's health in accordingly. Unfortunate "tits” persuaded rivers of champagne. He did not get by all-powerful whipcord to "spank" along on so well afterwards. Defeat after desorely against their will! That near leader, feat dimmed the glory of his scutcheon ; now quivering under the lash of a vulgar down he went, ever lower and lower yet, 'bus driver is a thorough-bred equine aristo- to the cab, and ultimately to that lowest crat, every inch of him. The blood of the deep of “Smiffle.” There is some comfort Darley Arabian, his desert-born ancestor, in reflecting that his ungrateful owner was courses through his veins and throbs in hanged. the great heart age and ill-usage have The Smithfield of tradition is no more. A failed to quell. The condition of those stately building, chiefly of iron and glass, shaky fore-legs, sadly battered about the but with external facing of red brick and knees, was once a source of care and sleep. white stone, as if indicating the streaks of less nights to the high and mighty ones of fat and lean within, is dedicated to the the land, for he was then a popular favourite purpose of a metropolitan dead meat marfor a great "event." His morning gallops, ket. Light and graceful, but immensely watched from afar by vigilant touts, were strong iron arches, enclose a vast space duly chronicled with the same loving furnished with material for countless minuteness that records the walks on the ) Homeric banquets.