all back into the ranks again. The
French stage has a story of a _figurant_ who ruined at once a new
tragedy and his own prospects by an unhappy _lapsus linguae_, the
result of undue haste and nervous excitement. He had but to cry aloud,
in the crisis of the drama: "_Le roi se meurt!_" He was perfect at
rehearsal; he earned the applause even of the author. A brilliant
future, as he deemed, was open to him. But at night he could only
utter, in broken tones: "_Le meurt se roi!_" and the tragic situation
was dissolved in laughter. So, in our own theatre, there is the
established legend of Delpini, the Italian clown, who, charged to
exclaim at a critical moment: "Pluck them asunder!" could produce no
more intelligible speech than "Massonder em plocket!" Much mirth in
the house and dismay on the stage ensued. But Delpini had gained his
object. He had become qualified as an actor to participate in the
benefits of the Theatrical Fund. As a mere pantomimist he was without
a title. But John Kemble had kindly furthered the claim of the foreign
clown by entrusting him for once with "a speaking part." The
tragedian, however, had been quite unprepared for the misadventure
that was to result.

It used to be said that at the Parisian Cirque, once famous for its
battle-pieces, refractory "supers" were always punished by being
required to represent "the enemy" of the evening: the Russians,
Prussians, English, or Arabs, as the case might be--who were to be
overcome by the victorious soldiers of France--repulsed at the point
of the bayonet, trampled upon and routed in a variety of ignominious
ways. The representatives of "the enemy" complained that they could
not endure to be hopelessly beaten night after night. Their
expostulation was unpatriotic; but it was natural. For "supers" have
their feelings, moral as well as physical. At one of our own theatres
a roulette-table was introduced in a scene portraying the _salon_ at
Homburg, or Baden-Baden. Certain of the "supers" petitioned that they
should not always appear as the losing gamesters. They desired
sometimes to figure among the winners. It need hardly be said that the
money that changed hands upon the occasion was only of that valueless
kind that has no sort of currency off the stage.

When "supers" appear as modern soldiers in action, it is found
advisable to load their guns for them. They fear the "kick" of their
weapons, and will, if possible, avoid firing them. Once in a militar