pleased with the exception of one
disloyal redcoat. Whether the latter had within him the contrariness
which cometh with too liberal dalliance with the flowing bowl, or
whether he chanced to be a Jacobite, further deponent sayeth not, but
it is at least certain that the officer was not pleased at the honour
paid to the Queen whose uniform he was willing to wear. So Mr.
Malcontent leaves the room, and then sends up word to poor,
inoffensive Jack, that he will be delighted to see that worthy below
stairs; whereupon Jack quietly steals away and finds his would-be
antagonist lurking behind a half-opened door. The soldier makes a
lunge with his sword at the player, who succeeds in disarming the
coward, and there the matter apparently stops.

But the end was not yet. When Evans went to Dublin, he found that his
late challenger was circulating a lie, which made it appear that the
comedian had in somewise affronted the whole British Army. No sooner
did Jack put his face upon the stage than a great clamour arose, and
it was decreed by the bullies among the audience (of whom there are
ever a few in every house), that no play should be presented until the
culprit had publicly begged pardon for a sin which he never committed.
The play was "The Rival Queens," the part assigned to Evans that of
Alexander, but 'twas some time before this Alexander could be induced
to crave the forgiveness of the excitable Dublinites. Finally he
yielded to expediency, and, coming forward to the centre of the stage,
expressed his contrition. At this, a puppy in the pit cried out
"Kneel, you rascal!" and Evans, now thoroughly exasperated, tartly
answered: "No, you rascal! I'll kneel to none but God, and my Queen."
Then the performance began.[A]

[Footnote A: "As there were many worthy gentlemen of the army who knew
the whole affair, the new rais'd clamour ceas'd, and the play went
through without any molestation, and, by degrees, things return'd to
their proper channel By this we may see, it is some danger for an
actor to be in the right."--CHETWOOD.]

How Chetwood bubbles over with a stream of ever-flowing anecdote. Much
that he gives us in his "General History of the Stage" is only gossip,
yet what is there more fascinating than tittle-tattle about players?
The gossip of the drawing-room is merely inane, or else scandalous;
but shift the scene to the theatre, and a story no longer bores; it is
consecrated by the sacrament of interest. Is any apology