t him, and began to pose us. It happened that one of us had very
good limbs, one medium good, and the third had apparently walked on
broom-sticks. When Mr. Booth slightly raised the drapery of No. 3, his
features gave a twist as though he had suddenly tasted lemon-juice, but,
quick as a flash, he said: "I believe I'll advance you to the centre, for
the stately and wise _Aspasia_." The central figure wore her draperies
hanging straight to her feet, hence the "advance" and consequent
concealment of the unlovely limbs. It was quickly and kindly done, for
the girl was not only spared mortification, but in the word "advance"
she saw a compliment, and was happy accordingly. Then my turn came; my
arm was placed about _Aspasia_, my head bent and turned and twisted, my
right hand curved upon my breast, so that the forefinger touched my chin;
I felt I was a personified simper, but I was silent and patient until the
arrangement of my draperies began--then I squirmed anxiously.

"Take care, take care!" he cautioned, "you will sway the others if you
move!" But, in spite of the risk of my marble make-up, I faintly groaned:
"Oh, dear! must it be like that?"

Regardless of the pins in the corner of his mouth, he burst into
laughter, and taking a photograph from the bosom of his Greek shirt, he
said: "I expected a protest from you, miss, so I came prepared; don't
move your head, but just look at this."

He held the picture of a group of statuary up to me: "This is you on the
right; it's not so dreadful, now, is it?" and I cautiously murmured, that
if I wasn't any worse than that I wouldn't mind.

And so we were all satisfied and our statue scene was very successful.

Next morning I saw Mr. Booth come running out of the theatre on his way
to the telegraph office at the corner, and right in the middle of the
walk, staring about him, stood a child--a small roamer of the stony
streets, who had evidently got far enough beyond his native ward to
arouse misgivings as to his personal safety, and at the very moment he
stopped to consider matters, Mr. Booth dashed out of the stage-door and
added to his bewilderment by capsizing him completely.

"Oh, good Lord! Baby, are you hurt?" exclaimed Mr. Booth, pausing
instantly to pick up the dirty, touselled, small heap and stand it on its
bandy legs again.

"Don't cry, little chap!" and the aforesaid little chap not only ceased
to cry but gave him a damp and grimy smile, at which the actor bent
t