o know that a hole in the stage two feet square, will not hold
Barnum's obesities. He must also be short and supple-necked, to allow
the green fungus which excresces from the stage to cover him; and he
must be the fortunate owner of a right arm as untiring as a locomotive
crank or the sails of a windmill. It is a prevalent but mistaken idea,
that the prompter is an impolite man; we happen to know that it is a
matter of the deepest concern with him to be obliged to sit with his
back to the audience. But he is like the angels and St. Cecilia, "_Il
n'avait pas de quoi_" to do otherwise. Operas must be, Singers must
have, a lead horse--(N. B. How can delicate females and tenors be
expected to recollect "_les paroles_;")--and there he is, with a little
hole in the back of his calash for the leader of the orchestra to stir
him up when the excitement becomes very strong, and the time is
irrecoverably lost. As to the social habits of the suggeritore, the
naturalist is at a loss, for he immediately disappears after rehearsal,
and remains in close retirement till the performance, after which he is
again lost till the next day.

CHAPTER VII.

Before the Curtain.

"A neat, snug study on a winter's night;
A book, friend, single lady, or a glass
Of claret, sandwich, and an appetite,
Are things which make an English evening pass,
Though _certes_ by no means so grand a sight,
As is a theatre, lit up with gas."--BYRON.

The night is a cold one; the snow is falling in large, heavy flakes, and
those who are fond of the frigid, but exhilarating amusement of
sleighing, are in hopes that by the morrow they will be able to pass
like lightning from one part of the city to the other; in a sleigh
decked with warm, gaily trimmed furs; filled with a merry company, and
drawn by two high-headed, dashing trotters. The gas lights are just
discernible from corner to corner. The number of people in the streets
is steadily decreasing, and the sound of their foot-fall is muffled in
the snow. About the theatres and the opera house, however, crowds of the
idle and curious, gaping at those who are entering these buildings, make
it necessary for the police to pace to and fro, ordering back the more
presumptuous loiterers, who press forward and obstruct the approach to
the doors.

Query? Why does the crowd always stare at those who are going into a
theatre or opera? The latter are attired somewhat strangely to be su