considerable time. At last, the tragedy began in real
earnest. It went off well enough, until the third scene of the first
act, in which _Othello_ addresses the Senate: the only remarkable
circumstance being, that as _Iago_ could not get on any of the stage
boots, in consequence of his feet being violently swelled with the heat
and excitement, he was under the necessity of playing the part in a pair
of Wellingtons, which contrasted rather oddly with his richly embroidered
pantaloons. When _Othello_ started with his address to the Senate (whose
dignity was represented by, the _Duke_, _a_ carpenter, two men engaged on
the recommendation of the gardener, and a boy), Mrs. Porter found the
opportunity she so anxiously sought.

Mr. Sempronius proceeded:

'"Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approv'd good masters,
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter,
It is most true;--rude am I in my speech--"'

'Is that right?' whispered Mrs. Porter to Uncle Tom.

'No.'

'Tell him so, then.'

'I will. Sem!' called out Uncle Tom, 'that's wrong, my boy.'

'What's wrong, uncle?' demanded _Othello_, quite forgetting the dignity
of his situation.

'You've left out something. "True I have married--"'

'Oh, ah!' said Mr. Sempronius, endeavouring to hide his confusion as much
and as ineffectually as the audience attempted to conceal their
half-suppressed tittering, by coughing with extraordinary violence--

--'"true I have married her;--
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent; no more."

(_Aside_) Why don't you prompt, father?'

'Because I've mislaid my spectacles,' said poor Mr. Gattleton, almost
dead with the heat and bustle.

'There, now it's "rude am I,"' said Uncle Tom.

'Yes, I know it is,' returned the unfortunate manager, proceeding with
his part.

It would be useless and tiresome to quote the number of instances in
which Uncle Tom, now completely in his element, and instigated by the
mischievous Mrs. Porter, corrected the mistakes of the performers;
suffice it to say, that having mounted his hobby, nothing could induce
him to dismount; so, during the whole remainder of the play, he performed
a kind of running accompaniment, by muttering everybody's part as it was
being delivered, in an under-tone. The audience were highly amused, Mrs.
Porter delighted, the performers embarrassed; Uncle Tom never was better
pleased in all his life; an