n, is perfectly enchanting.

'Just a-going to begin! Pray come for'erd, come for'erd,' exclaims the
man in the countryman's dress, for the seventieth time: and people force
their way up the steps in crowds. The band suddenly strikes up, the
harlequin and columbine set the example, reels are formed in less than no
time, the Roman heroes place their arms a-kimbo, and dance with
considerable agility; and the leading tragic actress, and the gentleman
who enacts the 'swell' in the pantomime, foot it to perfection. 'All in
to begin,' shouts the manager, when no more people can be induced to
'come for'erd,' and away rush the leading members of the company to do
the dreadful in the first piece.

A change of performance takes place every day during the fair, but the
story of the tragedy is always pretty much the same. There is a rightful
heir, who loves a young lady, and is beloved by her; and a wrongful heir,
who loves her too, and isn't beloved by her; and the wrongful heir gets
hold of the rightful heir, and throws him into a dungeon, just to kill
him off when convenient, for which purpose he hires a couple of
assassins--a good one and a bad one--who, the moment they are left alone,
get up a little murder on their own account, the good one killing the bad
one, and the bad one wounding the good one. Then the rightful heir is
discovered in prison, carefully holding a long chain in his hands, and
seated despondingly in a large arm-chair; and the young lady comes in to
two bars of soft music, and embraces the rightful heir; and then the
wrongful heir comes in to two bars of quick music (technically called 'a
hurry'), and goes on in the most shocking manner, throwing the young lady
about as if she was nobody, and calling the rightful heir
'Ar-recreant--ar-wretch!' in a very loud voice, which answers the double
purpose of displaying his passion, and preventing the sound being
deadened by the sawdust. The interest becomes intense; the wrongful heir
draws his sword, and rushes on the rightful heir; a blue smoke is seen, a
gong is heard, and a tall white figure (who has been all this time,
behind the arm-chair, covered over with a table-cloth), slowly rises to
the tune of 'Oft in the stilly night.' This is no other than the ghost
of the rightful heir's father, who was killed by the wrongful heir's
father, at sight of which the wrongful heir becomes apoplectic, and is
literally 'struck all of a heap,' the stage not being large e