cred
declaims, _'Toi, superbe Orbassan, c'est toi que je defie!'_ and
flings his gauntlet upon the stage, Orbassan has but to wave his hand
and an attendant advances boldly, stoops, picks up the gage of
battle, and resumes his former position. That is thought to be a very
simple duty. But to accomplish it without provoking the mirth of the
audience is _le sublime du metier--le triomphe de l'art!_"

The emotions of an author who for the first time sees himself in
print, have often been descanted upon. The sensations of a "super,"
raised from the ranks, entrusted with the utterance of a few words,
and enabled to read the entry of his own name in the playbills, are
scarcely less entitled to sympathy. His task may be slight enough, the
measure of speech permitted him most limited; the reference to him in
the programmes may simply run--

CHARLES (a waiter) Mr. JONES,

or even

RAILWAY PORTER Mr. BROWN,

but the delight of the performer is infinite. His promotion is indeed
of a prodigious kind. Hitherto but a lay-figure, he is now endowed
with life. He has become an actor! The world is at length informed of
his existence. He has emerged from the crowd, and though it may be but
for a moment, can assert his individuality. He carries his part about
with him everywhere--it is but a slip of paper with one line of
writing running across it. He exhibits it boastfully to his friends.
He reads it again and again; recites it in every tone of voice he can
command--practises his elocutionary powers upon every possible
occasion. A Parisian _figurant_, advanced to the position of
_accessoire_, was so elated that he is said to have expressed surprise
that the people he met in the streets did not bow to him; that the
sentinels on guard did not present arms as he passed. His reverence
for the author in whose play he is to appear is boundless; he regards
him as a second Shakespeare, if not something more. His devotion to
the manager, who has given him the part, for a time approaches
deliriousness.

"_Our_ new play will be a great go!" a promoted "super" once observed
to certain of his fellows, "_I_ play a policeman! I go on in the last
scene, and handcuff Mr. Rant. I have to say, 'Murder's the charge!
Stand back!' Won't that _fetch_ the house?"

There are soldiers doomed to perish in their first battle. And there
have been "supers" who have failed to justify their advancement, and,
silenced for ever, have had to f