ipton, who, "enacting a British officer in 'The
Early Life of Washington,' got so stupidly intoxicated that when Miss
Cuff, who played the youthful hero, had to fight and kill him in a
duel, Bill Shipton wouldn't die; he even said loudly on the stage
that he wouldn't. Mary Cuff fought on until she was ready to faint,
and after she had repeated his cue for dying, which was, 'Cowardly,
hired assassin!' for the fourteenth time, he absolutely jumped off the
stage, not even pretending to be on the point of death. Our indignant
citizens then chased him all over the house, and he only escaped by
jumping into the coffin which they bring on in Hamlet, Romeo, and
Richard." The story has its humour, but is not to be implicitly
credited.

Broad-sword combats were at one time very popular interludes at minor
theatres. They were often quite distinct performances, prized for
their own sake, and quite irrespective of their dramatic relevancy. It
cannot be said that they suggested much resemblance to actual warfare.
Still they demanded of the performers skill of a peculiar kind, great
physical endurance and ceaseless activity. The combat-sword was an
unlikely-looking weapon, very short in the blade, with a protuberant
hilt of curved bars to protect the knuckles of the combatant. The
orchestra supplied a strongly-accentuated tune, and the swords clashed
together in strict time with the music. The fight raged hither and
thither about the stage, each blow and parry, thrust and guard, being
a matter of strict pre-arrangement. The music was hurried or slackened
accordingly as the combat became more or less furious. "One, two,
three, and under; one, two, three, and over;" "robber's cuts;"
"sixes"--the encounter had an abundance of technical terms. And each
performer was allowed a fair share of the feats accomplished: the
combatants took turns in executing the strangest exploits. Alternately
they were beaten down on one knee, even lower still, till they crawled
serpent-wise about the boards; they leaped into the air to avoid
chopping blows at their lower members; they suddenly span round on
their heels, recovering themselves in time to guard a serious blow,
aimed with too much deliberation at some vital portion of their
frames; occasionally they contrived an unexpected parry by swiftly
passing the sword from the right hand to the left. Now and then they
fought a kind of double combat, wielding a sword in either hand.
Altogether, indeed, it wa