cided resemblance to our friend, which was considered
a superb joke by everyone else. Home talent furnished stars, stock
company, orchestra, and scene painter; and astonishing performances were
given on this pretty little stage.

Mrs Jo had been trying for some time to produce a play which should
be an improvement upon the adaptations from the French then in vogue,
curious mixtures of fine toilettes, false sentiment, and feeble wit,
with no touch of nature to redeem them. It was easy to plan plays full
of noble speeches and thrilling situations, but very hard to write them;
so she contented herself with a few scenes of humble life in which the
comic and pathetic were mingled; and as she fitted her characters to
her actors, she hoped the little venture would prove that truth and
simplicity had not entirely lost their power to charm. Mr Laurie helped
her, and they called themselves Beaumont and Fletcher, enjoying their
joint labour very much; for Beaumont's knowledge of dramatic art was
of great use in curbing Fletcher's too-aspiring pen, and they flattered
themselves that they had produced a neat and effective bit of work as an
experiment.

All was ready now; and Christmas Day was much enlivened by last
rehearsals, the panics of timid actors, the scramble for forgotten
properties, and the decoration of the theatre. Evergreen and holly from
the woods, blooming plants from the hothouse on Parnassus, and flags of
all nations made it very gay that night in honour of the guests who were
coming, chief among them, Miss Cameron, who kept her promise
faithfully. The orchestra tuned their instruments with unusual care,
the scene-shifters set their stage with lavish elegance, the prompter
heroically took his seat in the stifling nook provided for him, and
the actors dressed with trembling hands that dropped the pins, and
perspiring brows whereon the powder wouldn't stick. Beaumont and
Fletcher were everywhere, feeling that their literary reputation was
at stake; for sundry friendly critics were invited, and reporters, like
mosquitoes, cannot be excluded from any earthly scene, be it a great
man's death-bed or a dime museum.

'Has she come?' was the question asked by every tongue behind the
curtain; and when Tom, who played an old man, endangered his respectable
legs among the footlights to peep, announced that he saw Miss Cameron's
handsome head in the place of honour, a thrill pervaded the entire
company, and Josie declared wit