s, upon the mimetic art of the
Comedian. You understand that there is a vehement dispute going on. The
dog must not be admitted into a part of the gardens where a more refined
and exclusive section of the company have hired seats, in order to
contemplate, without sharing, the rude dances or jostling promenade of
the promiscuous merry-makers. Much hubbub, much humour; some persons
for the dog, some against him; privilege and decorum here, equality and
fraternity there. A Bonapartist colonel sees the cross on the soldier's
breast, and, _mille tonnerres_! he settles the point. He pays for three
reserved seats,--one for the soldier, one for the child, and a third
for the dog. The veteran enters,--the child, not strong enough to have
pushed through the crowd, raised on his shoulder, Rolla-like; the dog
led by a string. He enters erect and warrior-like; his spirit has been
roused by contest; his struggles have been crowned by victory. But (and
here the art of the drama and the actor culminated towards the highest
point)--but he now at once includes in the list of his dramatis persona
the whole of his Gatesboro' audience. They are that select company into
which he has thus forced his way. As he sees them seated before him, so
calm, orderly, and dignified, _mauvaise honte_ steals over the breast
more accustomed to front the cannon than the battery of ladies' eyes.
He places the child in a chair abashed and humbled; he drops into a seat
beside her shrinkingly; and the dog, with more self-possession and sense
of his own consequence, brushes with his paw some imaginary dust from
a third chair, as in the superciliousness of the well dressed, and then
seats himself, and looks round with serene audacity.

The chairs were skilfully placed on one side of the stage, as close
as possible to the front row of the audience. The soldier ventures a
furtive glance along the lines, and then speaks to his grandchild in
whispered, bated breath: "Now they are there, what are they come for?
To beg? He can never have the boldness to exhibit an animal for
sous,--impossible; no, no, let them slink back again and sell the
cross." And the child whispers courage; bids him look again along the
rows; those faces seem very kind. He again lifts his eyes, glances
round, and with an extemporaneous tact that completed the illusion to
which the audience were already gently lending themselves, made sundry
complimentary comments on the different faces actually befo