The last line alludes to the hump on Gloster's back, which the boy seems to think would be convenient for carrying burdens.

Now, it is of course evident that no actor comes to the morning rehearsal with a padded hump on his shoulders. Therefore, to the narrow intellect of a child it seems a stupid thing to say "This gentleman will have a hump on his shoulder at night; and you are to lift up your shoulders as if to imitate his deformity, and lay great stress on the line

'You should bear me on your shoulders.'"'

All of which I remember thinking very stupid and tire

some.

I never see a child on the stage without experiencing a throb of sympathetic pity; for it does not seem to me as if any child could really like it.

Among precocious dramatic children may be named the Bateman sisters, Ellen and Kate; two sweet little playmates of mine. These little girls-with father and mother both celebrated in the theatrical world-were thrust upon the stage as early as the children of most theatrical people are. Their father (who was an excellent manager and tutor) conceived the idea of instructing them in the most difficult tragic and comic parts, hitherto only attempted by grown people; such parts as Richard the Third and Richmond, Iago, King Lear, and many others.

Their success was very surprising. They appeared in all the principal cities of the country, attracting crowded houses; then went to England, played before the Queen, who expressed herself delighted with them, and finally returned to their home in St. Louis with a snug sum of money acquired by their cleverness.

GOING TO BED IN THE DAY-TIME.

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During the entire time they remained the same pretty, sweet, unaffected, truth-loving children they had always been; never puffed up by their success, nor vain of the adulation they received.

Although the theatrical life naturally absorbed much of the time of these children, it was curious to see how nicely the moments were parceled off by their careful mother, that as little detriment as possible to the health and education of the children should result.

For instance, every morning they pursued their educational studies, their mother acting as instructress. At noon they dined, and soon after they went to bed. It was funny to see them put on their night-dresses while the sun was still shining, and go to bed, dropping off to sleep almost immediately. At night they were fresh and wide awake for their performances.

One of these little girls-Ellen-married a wealthy gentleman, and never returned to the stage; the otherKate-now celebrated as Miss Bateman-returned to the stage on reaching womanhood, and renewed the successes of her youth.

Many amusing incidents are related about child actors. One of the latest relates to a performance of "Dora,”—a pretty play founded on Tennyson's poem of that name. When the lady who plays the part of Mary Morrison made her exit to bring on her little Willie of four years, she was shocked to find a lubberly boy of at least fourteen, and as he was the only Willie at hand, on he must go, though he was well nigh as big as his mother. The Farmer Allen of the play, being equal to the emergency, instead of inquiring, "How old are you, my little man?" endeavored to remedy the matter by saying, "How old are you, my strapping boy?" But he failed, for the boy, who was instructed to say "four to six," said it in such a coarse, sepulchral tone as to drive the good-natured

40

MRS. HALLER'S CHILDREN.

grandfather to exclaim, "Forty-six! You look it, my boy, you look it!"

Mrs. Mowatt relates an incident which occurred to her at Savannah, Ga., where she was playing. The play announced for the evening was "The Stranger." "I was informed at rehearsal that the two children who usually appeared as Mrs. Haller's forsaken little ones, were ill. No other children could be obtained. Yet children were indispensable adjuncts in the last scene. The play could not be changed at such hasty notice. What could be done? I was walking up and down behind the scenes, very much annoyed, and wondering how the difficulty could be overcome, when the person who temporarily officiated as my dressing maid accosted me. She was an

exceedingly pretty mulatto girl. She saw that I was distressed about the absent children, and, with a great deal of hesitation, offered to supply the deficiency. I brightened at the prospect of deliverance from our dilemma, telling her that I would be much obliged, inquired to whom the children belonged. They are mine, ma'am,' she answered, timidly. I have a couple of pretty little ones, very much at your service.' 'Yours?' I answered, aghast at the information. 'Yours? why, Mrs. Haller's children are supposed to be white. I am afraid yours won't very readily pass for mine;' and I could hardly help laughing at the supposition. The young woman took my distressed merriment good naturedly, and replied, 'Oh, my children are not so very black, seeing as how their father is altogether white!' 'Do you really think they would pass for white children?' 'Why the little girl has blue eyes, and they have both got hair nearly as light as yours; then you might powder them up a bit if you thought best.' I sent her for the children. They were really lovely little creatures, with clear cream-colored complexions, and hair that fell in showers of wavy ring