OF

HO

of a seedy-looking man in a coat out at elbows, and saying, "Your majesty! I am your slave!"

A spectator sitting in the auditorium and looking on, would certainly think the world was upside down.

It is related of a well-known actor, distinguished in the profession for his particularity at rehearsals, that upon one occasion when rehearsing the play of Coriolanus, in the scene where those representing the citizens are expected to cheer loudly on some information which they are supposed to receive, the poor supes who were hired to represent the Romans did not at all satisfy the Coriolanus of the occasion. For fully half an hour did he make them yell at the top of their voices. At length, pausing for a while, he addressed them, "I want you men to seem in earnest about this. If you can't imagine yourselves Romans, why-why, confound it, consider you're all Democrats, and you've just heard the election returns, and if that don't make you yell loud enough, I don't know what will."

On another occasion it is told of an actor whose name stands among the highest in the dramatic annals of America, that observing a young actor, in an important scene apparently inattentive to the business of the situation, he stopped speaking, and addressing himself to the young man, he said: "My young friend, if you desire to progress in your profession, you should be more attentive. A rehearsal is your school, sir, and inattention to what's going on on the stage, while you are engaged in the scene, is wrong, sir."

A journalist who witnessed a rehearsal in a California theatre, gives the following amusing account of his sensations and observations:

You may get as perfect an idea of a play by seeing it rehearsed as you do of Shakspeare from hearing it read in Hindoostanee. The first act consists in an exhibition

of great irritability and impatience by the stage manager, at the non-appearance of certain members of the troupe. At what theatre? Oh, never mind what theatre. We will take liberties, and mix them thus:

Stage Manager. (Calling to some one at the front entrance,) "Send those people in!"

The people are finally hunted up, one by one, and go rushing down the passage and on to the stage like human whirlwinds.

Leading Lady. (Reading) "My chains a-a-a-a-a rivet me um-um-um (carpenters burst out in a tremendous fit of hammering) this man."

Star. "But I implore-buz-buz-buz-never-um-um” (great sawing of boards somewhere).

Rehearsal reading, mind you, consists in the occasional distinct utterance of a word, sandwiched in between large. quantities of a strange, monotonous sound, something between a drawl and a buz, the last two or three words of the part being brought out with an emphatic jerk. Here Th-n rushes from the rear:

"Now my revenge."

Star. (Giving directions,) "No, you Mr. H-s-n, stand there, and then when I approach you, Mr. B—r—y, step a little to the left; then the soldiers pitch into the villagers, and the villagers into the soldiers, and I shoot you and escape up into the mountain."

Stage Manager, (who thinks differently,) "Allow me to suggest, Mr. B-s, that"-(here the hammering and sawing burst out all over the stage, and drown everything.)

This matter is finally settled. The decision of the oldest member of the troupe, the patriarch of the company, having been appealed to, is adopted. Then Mr. Mch is missing. The manager bawls "Mc-h!" Everybody bawls "Mc-h!" "Gimlet! Gimlet!"

This is the playful rehearsal appellation for Hamlet. Gimlet is at length captured, and goes rushing like a locomotive down the passage.

Stage Manager. "Now, ladies and gentlemen. All on!" They tumble up the stage steps, and gather in groups. H-1-n fences with everybody. Miss H-w-n executes an imperfect pas seul.

Leading Lady. "I-a-a-a-a love-um-um-um-and-a-a-a another".

Miss H-l-y, Miss M-d-e, or any other woman. "This engage-a-a-a my son's um-um-um Bank Exchange." A-d-n raises his hands and eyes to heaven, saying, "Great father! he's drunk!"

Leading Lady. (Very energetically.) "Go not, dearest Hawes! The Gorhamites are a-a-a-um-um devour thee." Mrs. S-n-s. "How! What!!"

Mrs. Jh. "Are those peasantry up there?" (Boy comes up to the stage and addresses the manager through his nose), "Mr. G., I can't find him anywhere."

H—y J—n. "Forasmuch as I" (terrible hammering).

Nasal Boy. "Mr. G., I can't find him anywhere."
L-c-h. "Stop my paper!"

Manager. "Mr. L., that must be brought out very strong; thus, Stop my paper!"

L-c-h. (Bringing it out with an emphasis which raises the roof of the theatre,) "STOP MY PAPER!”

The leading lady here goes through the motion of fainting, and falls against the Star, who is partly unbalanced by her weight and momentum. The Star then rushes distractedly about, arranging the supernumeraries to his liking. Ed-s and By walk abstractedly to and fro. S-n-r dances to a lady near the wings. These impromptu dances seem to be a favorite pastime on the undressed stage.

Second Lady. "Positively a-a-a Tom Fitch um-um amusing a-aitch, a-aitch, a-aitch."

It puzzled me for a long time to find out what was meant by this repetition of a-aitch. It is simply the reading of laughter. A-aitch is where "the laugh comes in." The genuine peals of laughter are reserved for the regular performance. Actresses cannot afford to cachinnate during the tediousness and drudgery of rehearsal. Usually they feel like crying.

Stage Manager. "We must rehearse this last act over again."

Everybody, at this announcement, looks broadswords and daggers. There are some very pretty pouts from the ladies, and some deep but energetic profanity from the gentlemen.

Much more than this is said and done at rehearsal, but it is all equally tedious and monotonous. Daily do these unfortunate people go through such a performance, from ten A. M. to one or two P. M. And then they go home for a few hours, perhaps to study their parts and get up their wardrobes. I have no aspirations. Have you, Mr. Pea Green? If so, go-go on the stage, but let it be one that carries the mail and passengers.