such a whack that he rebounds into a sitting posture; and to him the
man, the tree, the lamp-post and the fire-escape become not clearly
distinguishable; this barbarous logic prevails against the logic in
Barbara, and the syllogism is in the predicament of Humpty Dumpty. In
this predicament was the Poet Laureate. The miscreant Proteus (could
not) escape these chains!" So the miscreant Proteus--no bad name for an
old actor--took his little cocked hat and marched, a smaller, if not a
wiser man. Some disjointed words fell from him: "Mimicry is not
acting," etc.; and with one bitter, mowing glance at the applauders,
_circumferens acriter oculos,_ he vanished in the largest pinch of snuff
on record. The rest dispersed more slowly.

Mr. Vane waited eagerly, and watched the door for Mrs. Woffington; but
she did not come. He then made acquaintance with good-natured Mr. Quin,
who took him upon the stage and showed him by what vulgar appliances
that majestic rise of the curtain he so admired was effected. Returning
to the green-room for his friend, he found him in animated conversation
with Mrs. Woffington. This made Vane uneasy.

Sir Charles, up to the present moment of the evening, had been
unwontedly silent, and now he was talking nineteen to the dozen, and
Mrs. Woffington was listening with an appearance of interest that sent a
pang to poor Vane's heart; he begged Mr. Quin to introduce him.

Mr. Quin introduced him.

The lady received his advances with polite composure. Mr. Vane stammered
his admiration of her Bracegirdle; but all he could find words to say
was mere general praise, and somewhat coldly received. Sir Charles,
on the contrary, spoke more like a critic. "Had you given us the stage
cackle, or any of those traditionary symptoms of old age, we should have
instantly detected you," said he; "but this was art copying nature,
and it may be years before such a triumph of illusion is again effected
under so many adverse circumstances."

"You are very good, Sir Charles," was the reply. "You flatter me. It was
one of those things which look greater than they are. Nobody here knew
Bracegirdle but Mr. Cibber; Mr. Cibber cannot see well without his
glasses, and I got rid of one of the candles; I sent one of the imps of
the theater to knock it down. I know Mrs. Bracegirdle by heart. I drink
tea with her every Sunday. I had her dress on, and I gave the old boy
her words and her way of thinking; it was mere mimicry; it was