he says, "have something on the table, and pick it up before
you go over. If you do it this way, it looks rather like Lillie Bridge,
you know." Miss Ellen Terry reflects a moment, then asks, in mirthful
tones, suiting the action to the word, "What is that jump that makes you
go sideways as you fly over hurdles?" Mr. Terriss, like Mr. Winkle's
horse, goes "sideways." This method, however, still lacks dignity, and
at last it is decided that he shall place both hands on the table,
spring over, and so lightly up the steps and exit. Half-way up the steps
he is recalled by Mr. Irving's warning voice, "Don't go up there; it
isn't safe yet."

[Illustration: MISS ELLEN TERRY.]

[Illustration: MR. HAWES CRAVEN AT WORK ON A "CLOTH."]

There is one gentleman who plays a very important part in the
proceedings, yet never appears on the Lyceum stage in public, and that
is Mr. Hawes Craven, the scenic artist. Frequenters of the theatre have
for many years past been familiar with Mr. Craven's beautiful scenery,
but very few of them know the manner of place where it is produced. Down
many deep steps beneath the stage is a winding passage leading past the
unornamental bases of what appear to be huge balks of timber, rising
up into space. These timbers are interspersed with rubber pipes for
lighting purposes. Leaning against the wall is a dilapidated structure,
very much like a huge Robinson Crusoe umbrella out of repair, which, on
closer inspection, proves to be the hovel used in "King Lear." Close
to it is affixed a placard giving directions how to manipulate the
celebrated Lyceum thunder. A little beyond is a narrow flight of stone
steps leading to Mr. Craven's painting room, which is fifty feet long
and about thirty feet wide. It is lit by a skylight extending the full
width of the roof. On each side of it are stretched huge canvasses,
eighteen feet high and forty-seven feet long. These canvasses are
extended on frames, which can be raised or lowered by means of a winch
to suit Mr. Craven's convenience. Some idea of the expensiveness of the
materials for stage scenery may be gathered from the fact that the
canvas alone costs a shilling a yard, with an additional charge of one
penny for sewing. It takes Mr. Craven and his two assistants four hours
to "prime" one cloth ready for painting. In times of emergency, he often
works fourteen hours at a stretch. The floor of the room is bespattered
thickly with paint: Mr. Craven's clothes are