eek. The girls who march in the processions of female
soldiers receive about $8 per week. The costumes, armor, etc., are
furnished by the theatre, but there are many articles of dress which the
girls are obliged to furnish at their own expense.

The ballet girl rises about eight o'clock in the morning, and is off to
rehearsal by nine. A duller, more dreary sight than a rehearsal of a
ballet by daylight, and in plain dress, cannot be imagined. The theatre
is dark and gloomy, the stage not much lighter, and everything is in
confusion. There is a smell of escaping gas in all parts of the
building. Scattered about the stage are a number of girls and women in
half skirts, with fleshings on their legs, and some of them with woollen
hose drawn over the fleshings to keep them warm. They are terribly jaded
and hollow eyed, and they seem incapable of being interested in anything.
A very different set from the smiling, graceful houris of the evening
before. At a given signal the music begins, and the girls commence a
series of capers which seem utterly ridiculous. It is downright hard
work for the girls, however; and those who are not engaged in leaping, or
pirouetting, or wriggling, are leaning against the scenery and panting
with fatigue. The leader of the ballet storms and swears at them, and is
made frantic by every little mistake. The rehearsal occupies several
hours. If there is a matinee that day, it is kept up until it is time
for the girls to dress for that performance. Between the close of the
matinee, and the opening of the evening performance, there is not much
time for the tired girls to rest.

Upon assembling for the evening performance, the girls are dressed by a
practical costumer, whose business it is to see that each one wears her
costume properly. This arranged, they pass down to the painter's room,
where their cheeks, ears, and nostrils are "touched up" by an artist.
Their hair is dressed by another artist, and every defect of face and
figure is overcome as far as is possible. Thus adorned, the dull and
jaded girl of the morning becomes, under the magical influence of the
footlights, a dazzling sprite, and the object of the admiration of the
half-grown boys and brainless men who crowd the front rows of orchestra
seats.

The performance is not over until near midnight. Then the dancer must
change her dress, fold her stage dress carefully away, make up her
bundle, and set out for home. The prin