rfect; _Iago_ was sure that, in the stabbing-scene, he should make 'a
decided hit.' A self-taught deaf gentleman, who had kindly offered to
bring his flute, would be a most valuable addition to the orchestra; Miss
Jenkins's talent for the piano was too well known to be doubted for an
instant; Mr. Cape had practised the violin accompaniment with her
frequently; and Mr. Brown, who had kindly undertaken, at a few hours'
notice, to bring his violoncello, would, no doubt, manage extremely well.

Seven o'clock came, and so did the audience; all the rank and fashion of
Clapham and its vicinity was fast filling the theatre. There were the
Smiths, the Gubbinses, the Nixons, the Dixons, the Hicksons, people with
all sorts of names, two aldermen, a sheriff in perspective, Sir Thomas
Glumper (who had been knighted in the last reign for carrying up an
address on somebody's escaping from nothing); and last, not least, there
were Mrs. Joseph Porter and Uncle Tom, seated in the centre of the third
row from the stage; Mrs. P. amusing Uncle Tom with all sorts of stories,
and Uncle Tom amusing every one else by laughing most immoderately.

Ting, ting, ting! went the prompter's bell at eight o'clock precisely,
and dash went the orchestra into the overture to 'The Men of Prometheus.'
The pianoforte player hammered away with laudable perseverance; and the
violoncello, which struck in at intervals, 'sounded very well,
considering.' The unfortunate individual, however, who had undertaken to
play the flute accompaniment 'at sight,' found, from fatal experience,
the perfect truth of the old adage, 'ought of sight, out of mind;' for
being very near-sighted, and being placed at a considerable distance from
his music-book, all he had an opportunity of doing was to play a bar now
and then in the wrong place, and put the other performers out. It is,
however, but justice to Mr. Brown to say that he did this to admiration.
The overture, in fact, was not unlike a race between the different
instruments; the piano came in first by several bars, and the violoncello
next, quite distancing the poor flute; for the deaf gentleman _too-too'd_
away, quite unconscious that he was at all wrong, until apprised, by the
applause of the audience, that the overture was concluded. A
considerable bustle and shuffling of feet was then heard upon the stage,
accompanied by whispers of 'Here's a pretty go!--what's to be done?' &c.
The audience applauded again, by way of